Harry was holding his knees and panting as he said, “Sorry… I’m late… Well… not really late… I… lost track… of,” Harry looked up. A pair of bright green eyes met brown, and the world stopped.
The intensity of the emotion that hit Harry was something that can not be adequately explained in words. He was struck by the force of it entering his body. It was almost as if a wave of heat had slammed into his body. It seemed as though his whole body was on fire; every nerve was ablaze with the power of it, but nothing was burning; there was no pain, only warmth. He could feel it from his core all the way to the tips of his fingers. His very blood was charged with the energy, making his body buzz with electricity; the sheer power of it making him feel invincible. At the same time, though, he felt completely calm; with the fire came tranquility.
Neither Harry nor Ginny knew how long they stood there with their eyes locked. It could have been a minute, an hour, or maybe even several; the only thing that they were aware of was each other. Harry could not see beyond Ginny, nor could she beyond him. The world was a blur, and to them, it didn’t matter; all they cared about was maintaining eye contact so that they could continue to feel the extraordinary sensation that was coursing through their veins.
It seemed, though, that it was indeed only a few seconds that they stood there, eyes fixed on each other, as Filch was still standing next two the couple, looking slightly confused. Clearly, considering that he was in fact the Mr. Filch who held nothing dear to him, except for an old cat, did not understand what was going on; he would never be able to grasp the greatness of what he had just witnessed. After a few seconds of watching the entranced teenagers he decided to try his luck and take advantage of Harry’s distraction.
“Yes, Mr. Potter, late. You know what that means don’t you? Another detention,” Filch said in his usual scratchy voice, with the tiniest amount of glee discernable underneath the surface; Filch was always glad to find fault in the students and greatly enjoyed when he was able to take advantage of the opportunity. “I don’t see why you can’t serve them one after the other, work the whole weekend. But, it seems, the school sees that along the lines of ‘cruel and unusual,’” he grumbled, obviously disagreeing with this particular policy, and added in an undertone, “two nights of hard labor would most certainly teach those little conniving brats a lesson.”
Harry heard all this as if from far away. Once he realized what had been said he, remorsefully, tore his eyes away from Ginny’s. He was surprised when the feeling didn’t go away, as he had thought it would, but was only slightly muted. He gave her a look that clearly said that he wanted to talk later and turned towards Filch to argue his case.
“Hold on a second. I was not late, you know it, I know it,” turning to Ginny, their eyes met again and he shuddered with the intensity of it as he continued, “Ginny knows it. There is no way you can give me another detention, I didn’t do anything wrong. If you would like, I could bring it up with Professor McGonagall, I might even mention to her how you feel about the policies that she and Professor Dumbledore deem necessary for the wellbeing of the students here,” Harry said, knowing that Filch wouldn’t dare argue his case; he knew that he was on thin ice with the administration lately, mostly due to his regard for a certain toad-ish teacher of last year.
Apparently Filch realized that Harry had a point, and after grumbling some muffled expletives said to Harry and Ginny in a rather gruff tone, “Alright, follow me. And you mark my words, by tomorrow morning you will both be wishing that you had never even heard of ‘Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.’”
He led the two students out of the entrance hall and down a hallway that Harry recognized as one leading to the kitchens. A second later, Harry figured out what their detention could be; he prayed that they would not have to clean the kitchen. Considering the sheer size of the kitchen, Harry figured that it would take all night to clean the whole thing.
Unfortunately, his prayers were not answered. Filch turned another corner and stopped at a painting of a bowl of fruit, one that Harry had seen before on numerous occasions. He groaned, knowing what was coming, and was not looking forward to the punishment that he and Ginny were bound to serve.
Filch reached forward and, as though he hated doing it, ‘tickled’ the pear, if you could call it that. It was really more of a harsh scratch. In any case, the handle appeared, as Harry knew it would, and Filch pulled the door open. They entered the kitchen and Harry was struck by the unfamiliar silence. It took him a little while to realize why it was so odd, and then it hit him what was wrong.
“That’s right, Mr. Potter. No house elves to help you with this task. They’ve been given the night off. Not without great protestation, I might add.”
Filch was right. Where there normally were hundreds of house elves bustling around constantly, now there weren’t any at all. The entire room had been transformed from a busy, happy place to a gaping, hollow cavern.
“You will clean this entire room. Floor to ceiling. I will be back at dawn.” It was clear to both Harry and Ginny that they did not want to find out what would happen if they didn’t finish the job.
Filch left the room, leaving Harry and Ginny standing awkwardly avoiding each other’s eyes. The few minutes that had passed left both of them unsure. Neither knew what to say. Everything was so new and confusing for them. Soon, to break the silence Harry suggested that they get started, obviously trying to avoid the elephant standing between them. He didn’t want to talk about the letter quite yet, or rather, he didn’t know how to.
Ginny just nodded, not meeting his eyes; she was just as uncomfortable as he was. They walked over to the sinks, both trying to pretend that they were alone, even though they were both very aware of the other person, who was only feet away from them.
The both grabbed buckets and walked to the sinks to fill them. Grabbing sponges for both of them, Harry said to Ginny, without looking her in the eye, “I guess I’ll start over here,” he motioned with his arm towards one side of the room.
“Yeah, ok,” Ginny said, and she walked away toward another part of the room about fifty yards from Harry.
The two worked in silence, both sneaking glances at the other while pretending to work. After nearly two hours, Harry heard something. He looked over at Ginny, noticing that she was much closer now, than when she had started. She was humming. Harry grinned, figuring that she didn’t even know she was doing it. This wasn’t the first time he had heard it though, she used to do it at the Burrow over the summer when she was doing housework. Harry always recognized the tune, but could never place it. Then it hit him. He chuckled. Ginny heard him and thought that he was making fun of her. She ran her hands over her hair to see if it was out of place, rubbed her face to make sure there weren’t any suds on it, there weren’t. She had no idea why he was laughing at her.
“What’s so funny?” Ginny asked finally, looking at him. For a second they were swept away again from the force of their eye contact, but they were beginning to get used to it.
“Nothing,” Harry said, innocently. Now, Ginny was sure that he had been laughing at her. Her face began to turn red, but only slightly, from anger; mostly she was embarrassed that he had been watching her. Harry noticed that she looked slightly angry, so decided that he’d better tell her why; he’d rather risk that than the possibility of her blowing up in his face.
“It just that you were humming,” he said. She looked at him again, her blush deepening. “No, I like it. You used to do that at the Burrow. It’s always the same song, though. It was familiar to me, but I never realized why until now. It’s a muggle song. That’s how I knew it. I’ve heard it about a hundred times coming from Dudley’s stereo over the years I’ve spent there. Now, I have one question for you, Gin,” he said smiling. Ginny waited, dreading what it might be. “How in the world,” he asked, nearly laughing out loud by now, “have you ever heard anything by the Spice Girls?”
“What?!? What are you talking about Harry? I’ve never even heard of them,” Ginny said.
“Well, then how do you know that song?”
“What song?” She asked, by now Harry knew that she was lying; she was getting redder and redder by the second.
“The one you were just humming, it’s a song by a muggle band. The Spice Girls, you know, Baby Spice, Ginger Spice, Sporty Spice, Posh Spice, and one more, what is it?... Oh yeah, Scary Spice… Actually, you remind me of that one, Scary. Yeah, you’re just like her, and a little crazy too,” Harry said with a wide grin. The awkwardness was beginning to fade and the pair was stepping back into the parts that they had always played: friends. Harry and Ginny were finally falling back into the easy playfulness that they had always had. Harry was just thinking about how glad he was that they were nearly back to normal when he was hit with something sopping wet; Ginny’s soapy sponge fell away from his, now soaked, shirt.
“Harry Potter, you did not just call me crazy!” Ginny shouted, clearly furious at the thought, but at the same time she couldn’t keep a smile from making its way to her mouth at the expression on Harry’s face.
“I might have,” he replied, a mischievous grin growing on his face. He was loading his sponge up with water and soap. Ginny’s eyes went wide.
“You wouldn’t,” she said.
“You did. And yes, I would,” Harry replied.
“But, I’m wearing my favorite pa…” She was cut off by Harry’s sponge hitting her directly in the face. All she could do was sputter in disbelief. Soon she grabbed up the sponge in retaliation. For the next half hour, at least, a fierce water fight ensued, only perforated by squeals and laughs as both got hit by soaked sponges. By the end of it, the kitchen had become a battle field with bubbles all over everything. Ginny and Harry, both exhausted, were lying behind upturned tables that had been used as shields during the battle. There was a momentary lull in the fighting and both of them were gathering their breath.
“Truce?” Harry shouted from behind his table, clearly winded from all the fighting.
Gasping for breath, Ginny replied, “truce.”
Harry stood and turned- just as a sponge came flying at him from behind Ginny’s table. It hit him right in the face, leaving his glasses at a very odd angle. He had a look of complete disbelief on his face. He was preparing to retaliate when he heard Ginny begin to giggle. She was standing now, openly laughing at him. He couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation either.
“Truce?” she asked.
“Yeah, ok.”
They both walked out from behind their tables and walked together to the only dry spot of floor left in the entire room. Both were completely exhausted. Harry sat with his back to the wall and Ginny sat down next to him. All of the awkwardness from before was completely gone. They were perfectly comfortable in each other’s company.
“So… I guess we’re not going to have this kitchen cleaned by morning, huh?” Ginny asked.
“I guess not.”
“Filch will be mad, might even assign us another detention,” Ginny said, seriously, but it was clear to Harry that she didn’t really care.
“I guess so. I wouldn’t mind it though. As long as we got one together, it wouldn’t be all that bad.”
Ginny looked up at him with a radiant smile which soon turned into a wide yawn. Harry laughed.
“Geez, I’m tired,” she said.
“Yeah, I could tell.”
“Oh shut up,” she told him, punching him in the arm. In an attempt to get more comfortable, Ginny slid her body away from his and laid her head in his lap. Harry was at first shocked, but then relaxed and began to run his fingers through her wet hair. They were completely comfortable, well, as comfortable as you can be on a stone floor. The couple talked for hours about all types of things; from the trivial: Quidditch, classes, and stories about Ron and Hermione. To the serious: their various hopes and dreams, what they were going to do after school, Sirius, even Voldemort. In all their talking, though, they didn’t once mention the letter or bottle or what they might mean. Eventually they were too tired to talk and fell asleep.
Harry awoke a few hours later feeling rather tired from so little sleep. He was surprised, but only for a second, to find Ginny’s head still in his lap. He was watching her for only a second when she began to stir as well. A few seconds later, though, she sat bolt up right, looking at Harry.
“What time is it?” She asked, slightly urgently.
“I don’t know, why?”
“Filch.”
“Oh crap,” Harry muttered as he looked at his watch. It wasn’t working. It must have gotten water in it last night, Harry thought. But then he looked around the room. It was dazzling, everything was sparkling clean.
“Gin, look,” he told her. She looked around the room.
Clearly shocked, she asked, “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Harry told her. Then, at the exact same moment they both realized what must have gone on while they were asleep.
“Dobby!” They both shouted.
With a ‘pop’ the little house elf materialized before the pair.
“You asked for Dobby, Mr. Potter, and Miss Weazy?”
“Yes, Dobby, we did,” Ginny told him. “You were banned from here last night. Now, why am I thinking that you had something to do with this room being so clean this morning?”
“Yes, miss is right. Dobby was told by Professor Dumbledore to stay away from the kitchens last night. But Professor Dumbledore is not technically Dobby’s master miss. So Dobby returned here last night and found you two asleep. The room was a mess, miss, so Dobby cleaned it. Dobby couldn’t resist miss. Dobby is sorry for making you mad, miss.”
“No, Dobby, we’re not mad. You can go. You’re not in trouble.”
Dobby then disappeared. Ginny and Harry began to laugh, barely believing their luck. Soon, Harry remembered that he had to ask Ginny something.
He turned towards her and said, “we both know why I’m here, Gin. But how’d you land yourself in this detention?”
She laughed again, “Well, let’s just say that, with the help of Fred and George, a certain Slytherin happened to burst into my Transfiguration class today. You may ask how I had anything to do with that, but he them proceeded to profess his undying love for Professor McGonagall, to his great displeasure, and began to… ummm... to disrobe himself, I suppose I should say.” She added in an undertone, “teaches that little ferret to make fun of the Weasley name!” Ginny then continued on with her story, “fortunately, McGonagall managed to stop him before too long. Somehow, though, she managed to figure out that it was me. And here I thought that I had that innocent look down pat, damn. Anyway, I have never seen her more angry. Her face was completely red, but I’m not sure that was all anger, now that I think of it. If I were her, I’d be pretty embarrassed too. Anyway, long story short, that’s how I ended up here. Although, I must say, I had a pretty good time tonight,” she said, smiling at Harry. He couldn’t do anything other than stare at her and think to himself that he never wanted to be on Ginny Weasley’s bad side.
Soon, Ginny began to giggle over the absurdity of the whole situation, the detention, the water fight, Dobby, but mostly due to lack of sleep. Her quiet giggle slowly grew until she was all out laughing, tipping herself over from the sheer volume of laughter wracking her body. Apparently it was contagious, because soon Harry, too, was doubled over. Before long, the pair was gasping for breath. One he had recovered, Harry glanced over at Ginny who was still silently giggling to herself. He was still looking at her when she glanced up.
“What?” Ginny asked, slightly embarrassed that Harry was watching her so intently.
He crawled over to where she was seated and sat down close to her, not quite touching.
“I love your laugh,” Harry told her, smiling, but clearly serious at the same time. “I love your hair,” he said, while indulging in touching it again to reminding himself how it felt, “I love your eyes, your nose,” he told her as he slowly leaned in and kissed it. “I love the way you always know what to say in any situation, or how you know when I’m not in the mood to talk so you just sit with me. I now know that you were the one that kept me going last summer. After Sirius died, I didn’t want to keep going, but something made me carry on. Now, I understand that it was you. You sat with me, even held me when I cried. I never thanked you for that, Ginny.”
“Harry, you don’t,” Harry stopped her before she could continue, and as he looked at her he saw that her eyes were glistening with unshed tears. It occurred to Harry that she had been going through the same things last summer. Of all the Weasleys it seemed that Ginny had formed a special bond with Sirius. In many ways they were both the outcasts and were able to relate to each other in ways that the others couldn’t. Harry then realized that all the times that she sat with him in silence she might not have been doing it for only him, but herself as well; maybe Harry had provided her with as much comfort as she did him. Without thinking he pulled her into a hug, reveling in the feel of having her so close.
“No, Gin, I do. Thank you, for everything. Thank you,” he said, reluctantly letting her go and fishing around in his pocket, “for this.” He had taken the letter out of his pocket, showing it to Ginny. She immediately blushed.
“I still can’t believe that I wrote that. It was stupid of me, and childish,” Ginny said with her head lowered so that she didn’t have to look Harry in the eye. He took her chin in his hand and lifted her face up so that they were at eye level.
“No, Ginny, don’t ever say that. It wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t childish. This letter brought me to you. Sure, I may have gotten there eventually, but who’s to say when. Hey, if I were as thick as Ron is, it might have been years longer than it already has been.” Ginny grinned.
“True,” she said with a quiet laugh.
“Thank you for writing it,” she lowered her eyes again, still slightly embarrassed over the whole thing. “I’m glad that you did. I don’t want to waste any more time, Ginny.”
She looked up at Harry, who now was less than a foot away from her.
“I love you, Ginny. Everything that is you; everything that makes you the person that you are… I love it all,” Harry said, barely above a whisper.
Later, as she remembered it, Ginny would recall that her breath was swept away by what she saw in his eyes as Harry leaned toward her; they were on fire. Everything that he was feeling, all the love, all the passion, all the devotion, was visible in those emerald depths. She closed her eyes in anticipation of what she knew was coming.
To both Ginny and Harry it seemed like it took years for their lips to meet. When they finally touched both of them were completely oblivious to the world around them; they didn’t care if they were sitting there for hours, years even. All they cared about was the way they felt when they were around each other.
Had anyone else been in that room when the two finally came together they would have been mesmerized by what they saw; a blinding white light was shining throughout the room and the couple seemed to be radiating heat and power. The pair became a blur as green strands of light left Harry’s body and began to swirl rapidly around them. Soon, gold joined green in the hazy blur, those strands emerging from Ginny. The two colors intermingled and mixed until there was no telling them apart. Their magic, their power, their souls, had become connected. In that moment, in that kiss, a great bond had been sealed.
A/N: Thanks so much for bearing with me for this chapter. I know it took a while, but I hope you found it worth the wait. Thanks again to my BETA Gryffindor-Girl.
This is the end of the line for Harry and Ginny, but I am eventually going to do the Lily/James version, and if I really have the endurance, a third generation with Harry and Ginny's daughter.
I really hoped that you enjoyed my story, and, as usual, reviews would be awesome!
Thanks again!!!