Facing Danger
Chapter 17: I'll Be Seeing You (Year 5)
By Anne B. Walsh
Author Notes:
Minor OotP movie spoiler in end note. Read at your own risk.
Chapter 17: I’ll Be Seeing You
George Weasley looked up in mild surprise as Ron dropped into the armchair next to his. "Where’d you come from?" he asked. Then he took another look at Ron’s face. "What’s wrong?"
"Ginny," Ron croaked.
That got George’s attention instantly, and Fred’s too. "Is she hurt?" George’s twin demanded urgently. "Sick? In trouble?"
"No! No, no, no, no, no..." Ron waved his arms jerkily, warding off those ideas.
"Good." Fred settled back into his own armchair. "So something about Ginny has your robes in a knot..."
George took another look at Ron’s pallor, put it together with some of the looks he’d noticed flying about during DA meetings (though always strictly when the other party wasn’t watching), and made a guess. "Harry?"
Ron shot upright. "Y-you know? How—"
"No magic this time, little brother," said Fred in the tone of superiority he’d perfected. "Just native wit and the proper combination of information."
George took on his own carefully crafted voice, that of placation and sympathy. "It had to happen sometime, Ron. And Harry’s hardly likely to hurt her."
"He’d better not," said Fred, tapping the list in his hand significantly. "Or the more explosive products of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes will have a new tester."
"He’s practically family already," George took over again. "You two have been impossible to pry apart since the day you met. You tell me. Would Harry ever do anything on purpose, or even accidentally, that might hurt Ginny?"
Ron blinked a few times, then slowly shook his head.
"And she’s just right for him, too," said Fred, blowing on the list to dry the notations he’d written on it. "Or should I say, they’re just right for each other. Ginny needs someone who’ll think the world of her, but not try to put her on a pedestal or lock her up for her own good—"
"And Harry," George picked up, "needs someone who can keep up with him, even challenge him. A partner, every way that goes."
Ron’s color was returning to normal. "I know," he said a bit hoarsely. "I know all that. But it’s just—I mean—you weren’t the ones who walked in on them snogging!"
The twins glanced at each other. It was a mistake. Fred cracked first, or at least George thought he did; he might have done it himself, and in the end, it didn’t matter. The result was the same. A pair of roaring redheads, a third slumped in a chair with his face in his hands, and most of Gryffindor Tower craning their necks to see what had the Weasley twins so amused.
"It’s not you," George assured his brother when he could breathe again. "It’s just like the old joke..."
Fred pulled a long face. "Oi, George, I broke my arm in two places."
"Well, Fred, if I were you—"
"I wouldn’t go to those two places anymore!" they finished in unison, and surrendered to laughter once more.
It was an improvement, George thought as he sneaked a look at Ron’s face. Red, rather than white. Yes, it would do. For the moment, anyway.
They were simply going to have to teach Ron how to give a stern older-brother look.
xXxXx
Draco paused with his hand on the doorknob of the door to the Quidditch pitch. The sounds coming from inside the room were the normal ones he’d expect—shouts, laughter, squeals—but only two voices were making them. One male, one female.
And since there’s only one of the girls who really likes to fly...
He opened the door and stepped inside.
High above one set of goal hoops, Harry perched on his Firebolt, both hands above his head. "Try this one!" he shouted, and a shining ring of fire appeared in the air over the pitch, closer to the other end than to his own. "Take them as they come!"
"Here I go!" Ginny called back, and she zoomed out of the shadows and guided her Cleansweep expertly through the hoop. Another appeared, low and to one side, and she dived and swooped through the center of that as well, then pulled back sharply to climb and make the next one, higher even than the first and almost in the stands—
An obstacle course. Or flying practice. We should do this when Harry’s back on the team.
Draco pulled his eyes off Ginny long enough to look at Harry. He wanted to be sure this wasn’t too much of a strain on his brother.
He snorted. Strain. Right. If that’s a strained look, I’ll get strained any day...
Hey, wait a second. I know he loves using the Gryffindor magic, now that he can, but that’s not all that’s going on here.
Draco followed Harry’s line of sight and came up with Ginny, which shouldn’t have been a surprise. She was his friend, his teammate, his Pridemate, and a fine flyer, and she’d just shredded through his obstacle course. But there was something more in Harry’s look today, something Draco hadn’t seen before—
Well, not on Harry. I see it on the Captain every now and again. Padfoot or Moony, or Mr. Weasley. And I’d bet I look like it too sometimes.
The new element in Harry’s expression was the incredulous pride of a man who has somehow, by the gift of some mad god, been deemed worthy by the finest woman in the world.
He’s in love. And so is she, or he wouldn’t be grinning like that.
Just for confirmation, Draco glanced back at Ginny. The youngest Weasley wore the same look on her face as Harry, the look Draco was still privately astonished to find in Luna’s eyes when they were alone together.
Marvelous. Harry’s managed to acquire a roommate and a girlfriend in the same day.
And he’s still technically expelled.
One of these days, I’m going to find whatever part of him attracts this kind of insanity, and I’m going to remove it. I don’t care what part it is, or how important he thinks it is. I am going to get rid of it if it kills me.
The vision-image of the love in Luna’s eyes turned into bleak and bitter pain suddenly slashed at him.
Bad choice of words, perhaps.
He stepped back out of the room, got his back to the wall, and let himself sink to the floor, eyes closed, overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. It’s wonderful Harry and Ginny are together, I’m so happy for them, but I’m going to be dead in less than two years—I’ll probably never even get married, and they’ll have their whole lives together—
Unless Harry gets killed in the war too. Or Ginny does. She’s not going to sit at home and stay safe, no matter what Harry wants. She’s a fighter, and she won’t settle for anything less than a piece of the same action we get.
Though maybe she’ll change her mind after... after me. Maybe that’s what I’ll do, is save her life. And that would be saving Harry’s life, too, if I’m right about them. They don’t look like they’d want to go on without each other now that they’ve finally got it figured out...
A little sound, either sob or snicker, escaped him. I knew this was coming eventually. She’s been on the prowl for him—God, almost since we met. Going on nine years ago now. Even my boneheaded little alpha brother couldn’t keep his head in the sand forever.
Hands on his arms startled him. "A—I mean, who’s there?"
"It’s just me," said Luna. "If you want me."
"Always," Draco said, and only after he said it did he realize he’d started to say something else.
Carefully, he excised the something else from his thoughts and buried it under several layers of inconsequentials. Then, for good measure, he stomped on the mental grave.
And stay there.
The princess of the moon and the stars had come to his arms of her own free will. Nothing else mattered.
xXxXx
"I’m so happy for you both," Hermione said, hugging Ginny tightly. "And I’m glad you worked it out on your own," she added over Ginny’s shoulder to Harry. "Danger and I were going to start dropping hints if you didn’t get it by Christmas."
Harry raised an eyebrow at her.
"I’m sure she’s not kidding, l-love," said Ginny, half-turning to see Harry’s expression. Though she’d stumbled over the word, there could be no doubting the feeling behind it, not with the brilliant smile currently lighting every corner of the room. "Mums know these things."
"They do." Hermione let Ginny go. "But there’s something we have to take care of now."
"What?" Ginny looked perplexed.
Hermione glanced back over her shoulder. Graham had returned from his time with Maya earlier that evening, and was now in the green bedroom, supposedly asleep. The door was open slightly, though, and she was getting an occasional scent from within that didn’t smell like sleep.
Might as well give him a good show, then.
She drew her dagger from its place at her side and flicked it cleanly into the padded floor between Ginny’s feet. "Challenge," she said, lifting her head high. "Three rounds, hands, wands, and forms. Best two out of three."
The Pride started up, dismayed, all speaking at once.
"Hermione, what are you—"
"You don’t have to—"
"This really isn’t—"
Ginny slid her hand down Harry’s side, pulled his dagger free of its sheath, and flung it down to land side by side with Hermione’s. "Done," she said, meeting Hermione’s eyes.
"Done," Hermione answered. "You choose first."
"Excuse me?" Harry stepped between them, looking from his girlfriend to his sister with an expression somewhere between bemused and angry. "Hermione, why are you doing this?"
Hermione opened her mouth to explain, but Ginny beat her to it. "Because I won’t be alpha female just because we’re together," the younger girl said, drawing the Pride’s eyes to her. "You have your place because you’re the best one for it. I should prove myself just like you did."
Harry moved closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Ginny, you’ve already proved yourself to me—"
"Then let me prove myself to myself," Ginny interrupted. "Let me know, once and for all, that I really deserve what I’m going to have. That I’m not just coasting on what you’ve done." She looked up into Harry’s eyes. "I need this," she said softly. "We both do. If you stop it, we’ll all just wonder for the rest of our lives what would have happened, and if Hermione might not still be a better alpha female for us, even though I’m your mate."
Harry’s head came up, as though he were Wolf catching a new scent on the wind. "You’re sure?" he asked after a moment.
"Positive."
Harry turned to Hermione. "Neenie?"
"This has to happen, Harry." Hermione reached for her brother’s hand, hoping some of her bone-deep certainty could be transmitted through their touch. "You never fought for your place, but that was because there was never any question who our alpha male was. Now we need to be sure we have the right alpha female. For the good of the Pride. We’re going to be fighting in a war, and the only way we’ll make it through is if we have the best leaders we can. Both of them."
Harry squeezed her hand once and let it go. "You are both insane," he said in a casual tone, backing up a step. "So insane that I think I’d get hurt if I tried to stop you from doing this. So I’m not even going to try."
"Good," Ginny said, her lips peeling back from her teeth. "Because I’d hate having to hurt you not twenty-four hours after we finally got around to admitting we like each other."
"And I’d hate having to hurt you back while you were hurting me."
"So now that we all know we don’t want to hurt each other," said Ron, reaching out a long arm to snag the two daggers, "why don’t you girls get on with it?"
Harry accepted his dagger back and sheathed it. "Challenged party picks the first round," he said, half-bowing to Ginny.
"Wands," Ginny said promptly.
"All right." Harry waved the rest of the Pride back a few steps, then pulled his own wand as Ginny and Hermione walked up to each other and bowed. "Turn away," he instructed. "Seven paces. Go."
Hermione measured out her steps, making them small and deliberate, hearing Ginny’s strong paces behind her, but they reached their destinations and spun around at precisely the same moment.
"Bracchimotor Mortis!" Hermione cried, as Ginny shouted "Stupefy!"
Hermione managed to twist out of the way of Ginny’s spell. Ginny wasn’t quite fast enough, and the orange light brushed her right shoulder. Immediately, her right arm went stiff. She cursed under her breath and transferred her wand to her left hand.
Have to get her now—if I can pull off some quiet spells, she might not see them coming—
"Incarcerous," Hermione whispered. "Stupefy. Impedimenta."
The three spells sped almost invisibly towards Ginny, who was working to get her arm unlocked—
But her wand came up in time, and her shouted "Protego!" created a visible shield against which Hermione’s spells splashed—
No, they didn’t splash, they bounced, and they bled off enough energy that now they are invisible—
Hermione dropped to the floor, but felt an impact on her left side as she did, and swore as movement suddenly became very difficult. Lucky for me it was just the Impediment Jinx. If it’d been the Stunner or the Binding Spell, this duel would be over now.
The important thing was getting her wand to a place where she could protect herself, surviving the next volley and the one after that. Even a full-strength Impediment Jinx wore off in fairly short order, and she’d been hit with a low-level version, reflected at that. If she could block Ginny’s next two spells, she’d have a moment’s breathing space to free herself and get back into the game—
Ginny snatched her wand back into her right hand. "Mucus Aligerum!" she shouted.
Hermione’s hissed "Protego" brought up the invisible magical shield—
And Ginny’s hex blasted straight through it and hit her in the face.
Hermione sneezed. And sneezed again. And then screamed and sneezed at the same time, because something large and slippery and disgusting had just hit her in the face, and she could hear flapping wings all around her, and there seemed to be more of them coming every second, whatever they were, and she couldn’t stand it, get them away, get them AWAY—
"Halt!" Harry’s voice shouted. "Finite!"
Hermione felt the Impediment Jinx release her, and the things vanished. She drew a long, shaky breath, then opened her eyes and accepted Harry’s hand up. "I think that means you win," she said to Ginny. "What was that?"
"Bat-Bogey Hex," Ron volunteered before Ginny, blushing furiously, could say anything. "One of her specialties, though she’s only ever done it at home before this."
"It was the only thing I could think of that I knew well enough to punch through a shield," Ginny said without looking at Hermione.
Hermione touched her face gingerly, relieved to find it clean. "And that means you won," she said. "It doesn’t matter how you win, not in a real fight. And it’s not as if you cheated—you just used a spell I wasn’t expecting. I should have been more ready for anything, more able to adjust. So you won this round."
"And that means you pick the next bout." Ginny put her wand away and started stretching. "Hand-to-hand or form combat?"
Hermione slid her own wand into its special pocket in her robes and thought about it. If I really wanted a chance at winning, I’d ask for hand-to-hand next. I’ve been doing that much longer than Ginny has, and I’m older and bigger than she is. I’d have the advantage there. In forms, I’m smaller than she is, and I haven’t had that much more practice. Her weight would give her the advantage there, especially since she’s heard the story of how I tricked Harry over the summer.
But this isn’t about winning, not really. Not for me. Her eyes moved across the spectators, Draco and Luna sitting side by side, Meghan in the bend of Neville’s arm, Ron sprawled on the floor watching intently. It’s about proving to everyone, including Ginny, that she has what it takes. That she really can be the alpha female we’ll need if we’re going to fight in a war. They know me as alpha. They know what I can do, what I’m capable of. They don’t know her that way.
So I’m not about to throw the individual contests—it wouldn’t be fair to either of us if I did—but maybe I’ll pick differently than I would have if this were about winning.
"Forms," she said.
Ginny paused in her stretching, then gave Hermione a long look. Hermione met her Pridemate’s eyes evenly. Yes, I’m ceding you the advantage. Now I hope you remember your lessons—don’t ever insist on a fair fight as long as it’s unfair in your favor!
"Forms," Ginny agreed, and bent over to touch her toes.
A few moments later, Neenie the calico cat once again faced a larger, stronger animal in a fight. This time, though, she couldn’t attach herself to a leg, because these legs had weapons of their own on the ends. She could try her rush and leap approach, but Lynx was both canny and flexible, and she’d probably miss and be at the mercy of the larger cat—
Lynx pounced. Neenie shot between the big predator’s feet and, feeling daring, reached up a paw as she passed to bat Lynx’s stumpy tail. Point for me.
Lynx yowled and spun in her own tracks, swiping an oversized paw after Neenie. It caught her on the right flank, knocking her off balance. In a real fight, she knew, there would have been claws involved, and she’d be down and bleeding right this very moment. As it was—
As it is, I can still fight. And maybe make it a decent defeat, if not a victory.
She converted her stumble into a long, looping turn that brought her back towards Lynx outside the bigger cat’s claw-range, then leapt for Lynx’s back, landing (to her considerable surprise) squarely astride the shoulder blades. In a flash, Neenie bared her teeth and clamped them onto Lynx’s spine—
Lynx twisted, hissing, and Neenie flew off to one side. She tried to get her paws under her, but the trajectory was wrong, and she landed on her head with enough force, even on the padded floor, to see stars. An instant later, Lynx was crouched above her, a growl rippling in her throat. Surrender, the big cat demanded, or you are food.
Neenie went instantly limp and closed her eyes. You win, she said in animal-language. I will not fight.
"Halt," said Harry calmly, and Neenie heard/felt Lynx back away. She opened one eye, then the other, to see a human Ginny blinking at her.
"Something for you?" Hermione asked when she’d sat up and retransformed.
"Did I just beat you?"
"That’s what it looked like to me."
"And you beat Harry the last time you fought."
Hermione bit her lip to keep from laughing. "I wouldn’t think this necessarily means you could do that," she cautioned. "But you’d give him a run for his Galleons. Ginny, you’re good. You have a lot of strength, and you’ve been training it for years in school and with us. Why are you so surprised you can win?"
"I don’t know..."
"Then don’t be," Ron said, breaking a long silence. "You won, Ginny. You’re alpha female now."
"Yes, you are," Hermione reaffirmed, shifting her position until she was sitting on her heels. "Come and take your prize."
She tilted her head back and half-closed her eyes.
Ginny made the tiniest squeak, then got to her feet and came forward, gingerly at first, but gaining confidence with every step. Two fingers rested on Hermione’s throat and moved away, and Hermione bowed her head, smiling as Ginny’s hands parted her hair and found the back of her neck.
As long as there is a Pride, I will fight beside you and with you and for you, she vowed silently. I will listen to you and do as you say, because you have proved yourself worthy of that trust. And I will help you when you are afraid or worried that you can’t do this job. I know what that feels like. But in the end, you are the only one who can.
Alpha female. Leader of the Pride.
My leader.
Ginny’s hand came away. Hermione lifted her head and stood up, and Ron dropped to his knees in her place.
"This is a little silly," Ginny said under her breath.
"I promise I won’t bite," said Ron, grinning at her. "Gin, you did great. You deserve this." His head went back, and Ginny laid her fingers on his Adam’s apple, then her whole hand on the back of his neck when he’d bowed his head before her.
Luna was the next to offer her allegiance, and Draco after her. Neville knelt in his place next, and Meghan came last of all, shoulders hunched as if she were afraid she’d be refused. Ginny placed her whole hand around Meghan’s throat, instead of the two-fingered touch she’d given everyone else. "Your pride will keep for after missions," she said in a soft, penetrating voice. "Your Pride will not."
"Yes, Ginny," Meghan whispered.
Hermione looked sharply at Ginny, impressed. The emphasis laid on the two words had shown clearly which meaning Ginny intended to use each time. Not everyone can do that. I don’t even do it right half the time.
Meghan lowered her head, and Ginny not only laid a hand on the back of the younger girl’s neck, but caressed it. "It’s over," she said. "All is well."
And she knows when to stop scolding. I never know that. I always want to keep on being mad at people, even after they’ve apologized and it ought to be over.
Hermione glanced at Harry, and saw much of the same conclusions in his eyes. Good choice, she signed to him as Ginny helped Meghan up.
Choice? Harry signed back. What choice?
Hermione thought of certain conversations long-past and snickered. You have a point.
Harry sagged. Obviously, he’d been hoping Hermione wouldn’t understand what he was talking about.
"Our new alpha female, everyone," said Ron, catching hold of Ginny’s arms and hoisting her off the ground. "Ginny Weasley!"
The Pride cheered, and Luna began to sing, everyone else joining in by the end of the first line.
"For she’s a jolly good alpha,
"For she’s a jolly good alpha,
"For she’s a jolly good alpha...
"Which nobody can deny!"
Ginny blushed and laughed as Ron carried her around the Den on his shoulders, the rest of the Pride trooping behind them singing.
And so, a new time begins for the Pride, Hermione mused even as she sang as heartily as the others. May it be blessed.
xXxXx
In the green bedroom, Graham sat at the desk, his quill in his hand. The words "Dear Father and Mother" were dry on the top of the scroll before him. He’d written them that morning, then sat motionless and unable to continue for nearly an hour.
Now he knew what he would write.
I have missed you both a great deal, and I would like to come home for a while, if it is safe. But I think I should come back to Hogwarts as soon as I can after that. Not only because I have missed almost two full months’ worth of schooling, but for another reason.
You have always told me, both of you, that the real purity in the wizarding world should not be blood, but traditions. That we should cherish the things that make us different than Muggles, but always be willing to try new things and put away old ones that no longer work. I believe I know of people here at Hogwarts who agree with these ideas, and I would like to learn more about them and the traditions they have. If I am lucky, they may even accept me as a member of their group, or another group like it.
With them, I will be safe. I know this, not only because I know the people involved, but because I know what they did. They risked their own lives to try to help someone who was a friend to only one of them, and they succeeded. If they had not, I would not be writing you this letter.
I hope to see you both very soon.
Your devoted son,
Graham
P.S. I think Maya may be having a disagreement with her parents. Is there any way that she could come and stay with us for the holidays?
xXxXx
The next morning, a series of excited squeals from the Gryffindor table drew the attention of the entire Hall. Meghan Black was jumping up and down, hugging Natalie McDonald, and shrieking not quite at the top of her lungs, but certainly close. "I’m a sister! I’m a sister! I’m going to have a little brother!"
Minerva sighed, set down her spoon, and started to get up—the girl had every right to be excited, but not the right to disturb everyone’s meal—but Ginny Weasley spotted the motion, hissed at Meghan and Natalie, and they stopped what they were doing instantly and took their seats, looking chastened but still excited.
"So a brother for Meghan, then," Minerva said to Albus as the normal conversations in the Hall resumed.
"Indeed." Albus took a sip of tea. "Sirius is overjoyed, as are Remus and Danger. Aletha admits it will be nice to experience a pregnancy with magical as opposed to Muggle medical care, but she also understands the social pressures she may come under with this child."
"Social pressures? With a perfectly legitimate, male, half-blood heir to the House of Black? Oh, heavens, I can hardly imagine why there would be social pressures in that case." Minerva snorted. "Even if Sirius did make it quite clear he would rather eat dragon scales than return to pureblood society."
"Pureblood society may come to him," Albus said quietly. "His family fortunes are in good repair; his conduct, apart from his marital choices and a few episodes of what they may choose to see as youthful high spirits, is impeccable; and his bloodline is unimpeachable. They may have no choice but to come to him."
"But for what? Why would they? Unless..." Minerva frowned. "Albus, you’re not telling me there’s talk of—"
"Nothing serious, Minerva. No pun intended, of course." Albus smiled slightly. "But a man of Sirius’ age and vigor, with a male heir to establish his line and proven ties to most of the pureblood lines in Britain, is a very strong contender indeed. And the item in question has a mind of its own, should it be activated."
"But if his heir is only half-blood—"
"It will be more than many others have. More than most, to be honest. There are fewer pureblood men of Sirius’ age than there should be, since so many fought in the last war. And of those, fewer still have married or produced heirs."
Minerva sighed deeply. "And Sirius will be back in the thick of a life he’s tried so desperately to leave behind."
"But in a position to make some of the changes he has chafed at being unable to effect." Albus’ smile widened. "I believe I may well push for this after all. It will take time, since I can most certainly not make the requests openly, but that time might convince Voldemort that I have forgotten about this possibility, or that I never knew. And the purebloods can trace family trees as well as I, and will not want to activate the item unless there is no other choice."
"If you need information about the other current prospects, you will want to speak with Corona Gamp," Minerva reminded her friend, intercepting the toast rack as Filius Summoned it. "She has been in pureblood society far more recently than any of us, and she may well have been researching the lines for different reasons."
"Investigating possible matches, or those to be avoided." Albus nodded. "How are she and Brian, by the way? I have missed them the last three times I have been at Headquarters."
Minerva’s lips twitched. "Molly Weasley is somewhat scandalized by the amount of time they spend together, but even she admits she has no right to interfere. I would guess, by the way they treat one another, that both of them had given up hope of ever being found acceptable as a romantic prospect, much less desirable. And Corona was openly ecstatic to hear Aletha’s news."
"Wonderful." Albus refilled his and Minerva’s teacups with a wave of his wand. "I had meant to ask, since Sirius and Aletha know the sex of the baby, have they considered names?"
Minerva laughed. "Danger produced an old piece of parchment and claimed Remus just happened to find it in one of her books, being used as a bookmark, a few days ago."
Albus chuckled with her. "And what might it have been?"
"A list of possible baby names, from Aletha’s pregnancy with Meghan. It seems that they didn’t know the baby’s sex then, and were covering both possibilities. Sirius looked rather surprised at the front-runner for a boy, but eventually he admitted that it could legitimately have been a name either from the pureblood tradition or from a Muggle family, and I believe it may well stick." Minerva dropped one lump of sugar into her tea. "They plan to name him Marcus."
xXxXx
"The potion’s looking good," Harry said to Ginny, spooning up some so she could see its consistency, then dropping it back into the cauldron with a thick splat. "Another two days, and it ought to be ready to use."
Ginny sniffed the steam rising from the cauldron. "Funny how it doesn’t stink at all while you’re making it," she said. "We’ll have to clean up especially well in here after we’ve finished with it."
"We’d better. This is my kitchen." Harry waved a hand around at the room. "Draco can brew in here if he wants to, but I’m not letting him stink it up."
"You know, maybe we should just have asked the Den if it could make us a workroom," Ginny mused. "It made the music room when Luna wanted one, didn’t it?"
"I don’t know if it made the music room so much as it just opened it up..." Harry stopped, thinking of pirate ships. "Maybe you’re right. We could ask Alex, but he hasn’t been around much since Graham left, and I still haven’t seen that woman Graham said he met in Alex’s painting."
"So why don’t we just try it?" Ginny stood up. "We need a workroom, please," she said to the ceiling, which had become the default place to address any requests to the Den. "Some place to brew our potion, so it doesn’t get into the food."
The wall to the right of the door rippled, and a door materialized from the stone. "Just like the Room of Requirement," Ginny said, going over to try the door. "Oh, this is perfect—it’s even a little cool, just like Snape keeps the dungeons, so we don’t get too hot with the fires going."
"Is that why he does it?" Harry put his hands under the cauldron, willed them to generate the same amount of heat the fire was doing, and lifted. "Get the hob, will you, Gin? I always thought Snape kept the dungeons cold just so we wouldn’t fall asleep in class."
"Well, probably that too." Ginny scooted around him, grabbed the tripod from which the cauldron had been hanging, and followed Harry into the new section of the Den. "That’s still a little spooky," she said, coming around to peer into the cauldron, full of merrily boiling potion. "You holding that in your hands, and not even feeling it."
"Yes, well, so would it be to a Muggle if they saw you wave a stick and make things fly around or change into other things." Harry tried to balance the cauldron with one hand, to have the other one free to hang its chain back on the hook, but the cauldron wasn’t having any. The potion sloshed warningly—in another few seconds it would be spilling—
"Wingardium Leviosa," said Ginny, and the weight of the cauldron vanished from his hands. "What did you ever do without me?"
"Dropped a lot of heavy things on my feet," Harry said, hooking the chain over the notch on the tripod hob designed for it. "There, that should hold." He snapped his fingers over his shoulder, and the blue fire in the jar in the kitchen went out. Another snap, and the same fire was burning under the cauldron, though now it was uncontained, merely licking up the cauldron’s sides.
"Isn’t that dangerous?" Ginny asked, walking around the cauldron and eyeing the flames warily.
"No, I’ve told it not to burn anything, and only to make the potion and the cauldron hot. You’d still get burned if you touched the cauldron, I can’t change that, but you won’t get hurt by the flames. Here." On impulse, Harry reached into the fire and extracted a handful. "Try it."
Ginny reached out and laid her hand in the flames, and her expression went from wary to wondering. "It tickles," she said. "Like it would if you’d used a Flame-Freezing Charm. I know Hermione did, when she set this up two weeks ago, but you made a new fire here, and all you had to do was—" She snapped her own fingers.
"It’s pretty cool, isn’t it?" Harry smiled at her, enjoying the look in her eyes as she ran her fingers through the fire. "Here, hold on a second—take your hand out—" He concentrated on the fire, willing a very specific set of things for it. "Now try."
Ginny lowered her hand into the blue flames once more, and frowned. "This is different. It doesn’t hurt, but it feels like something I should know what to do with, something I’ve touched before..."
Idly, her other hand came up, and she squeezed the flames between her palms.
The flames responded, narrowing themselves between her hands, bulging out at her fingertips and wrists.
Ginny gasped and looked up. "What did you tell it?" she demanded.
Harry grinned at her. "To do for you anything it would for me. Go on, give it a try." He pulled his own hand away, not without a tinge of regret; Ginny’s skin was soft and warm and held a delicate smell of roses that he knew must come from her soap, but seemed somehow to be an inherent part of her.
"Anything?" Ginny squeezed the flames again, and they fountained out between her fingers. "Of course, now I know what this feels like. Clay, my clay when it’s wet, only this isn’t wet, and it doesn’t need to support weight..."
"Chairs, please," Harry said under his breath to the ceiling, and sidled around behind Ginny so that he could gently press down on her shoulders, seating her in the chair that had appeared between them, as she concentrated on the blue flame in her hands. That done, he pulled over the matching chair that had appeared for him, and settled down to watch.
In quick succession, a hippogriff, a dragon, and a mermaid were crafted from Ginny’s handful of flame, and just as quickly crushed back to anonymity as soon as they were finished. Ginny’s face was radiant, as though she’d found something she’d only dreamed of, and Harry suspected clay didn’t respond nearly as well to her wishes.
Surreptitiously, he called up another set of fireballs, one in each hand. One was red, the other yellow, and he set them floating in midair beside Ginny’s chair so that she could reach them if she wanted.
She did want, it seemed, and with the addition of color, her creations grew more and more impressive. A yellow centaur galloped about the room and fired an arrow at Harry’s head, making him duck and Ginny giggle; a red fire-rose blossomed between them, its stem the green she’d made by mixing a pinch of blue and yellow together; and finally, as she waved her hand in a great arch, a flaming rainbow spread itself across the room, the bands of color blending gently one into the next.
"Harry, thank you," Ginny said softly, staring up at the rainbow’s arc. "I’ve been so busy with classes and DA and Quidditch that I haven’t had much time to sculpt, and it’s never been like that, not ever. I love clay, I think I always will, but there are things you can’t do with it... but maybe that’s part of the challenge. To make things look that beautiful, even though they’re planted in what’s possible." She laughed a little, passing her hand through the violet band of the rainbow. "But I suppose it’s nice to play with the impossible sometimes."
"I like anything you make, possible or impossible," Harry said, watching the firelight play on Ginny’s face, "because everything you make is beautiful." He smiled. "But that’s probably because you’re so beautiful."
"Flatterer," Ginny said automatically.
"It’s not flattery if it’s true. And tonight’s Halloween. I won’t get to go to the feast, so would you celebrate a little with me right here?"
"Of course." Ginny stood up. "What did you have in mind?"
Harry’s smile expanded. "I was hoping you’d ask."
He clapped his hands twice, and the rainbow began to spin. Ginny’s soft "ah" of wonder turned into a wordless squeak as the blue flames suddenly rushed upon her, and the rest of the colors deluged Harry—
And then they were clothed in fire, Ginny in a long robe of blue and a coronet of gold set with green and red stars, Harry in black with red at his collar and cuffs.
Ginny looked down her nose at him. "Show-off," she accused.
"Every chance I get." Harry offered her his arm. "My lady."
She took it. "Are you ever going to get tired of saying that?"
"Probably not."
Together, they walked through the kitchen and into the main room. "Dance floor, please," Harry said to the ceiling. "And music. Something slow."
The floor shimmered itself into hardwood, the lights dimmed around them, and a soft piece featuring woodwinds and strings began to play. Ginny twined her fingers in Harry’s, and he set his hand against her waist, and they danced, around and around the room.
The rest of the Pride would arrive after the feast, full of stories and jokes and eager to hear how the prank planning was coming along. After that would be the den-night, marking fourteen years from the fateful Halloween Voldemort had marked Harry, fourteen years since Harry’s parents had died.
What would they think of me now? Harry wondered, guiding Ginny deftly around the room. I’ve been expelled, but unfairly, and I’m keeping up with my work... sort of. His
mind sheared away from the pile of homework stacked up in his bedroom, which he’d have to get to within the next few days.
I’m running an illegal student club, but it’s one we need, and we’re doing so well. Even the more timid or less talented members of the DA, such as the young Slytherin named Elayne or the excitable Tessa Mallory, were beginning to blossom with careful guidance and lots of reassurance.
I have a girlfriend. Possibly the most beautiful girlfriend ever. And she’s even a redhead, Dad—Padfoot’s been teasing me ever since he found out, about ‘carrying on the family tradition’...
He met Ginny’s eyes and felt her smile warm him from within, almost as if he’d swallowed a handful of the fire they both wore.
And I’m doing the right thing, Mum. I’m fighting for the people who can’t fight for themselves.
I think you’d be proud of me. I think you’d think I’m doing well.
He allowed himself one sigh.
I just wish I knew.
Author Notes:
Nobody die of shock, please. This will probably never happen again. It just so happens that this week I have (a) lots of free time and (b) seen the OotP movie, and the combination inspired me pretty thoroughly. I especially enjoyed the bit where Sirius punches Malfoy, and have decided I simply must have a moment in FD in homage to it. So keep your eyes open for it, though the person referred to in the line directly preceding the punch might not be the same person it was in the movie...
As you see, we’re starting to move along through time again. Let me know if I’m dropping any plot threads anywhere, ask your questions (though I may not answer), tell me things I’m doing well or badly, and just in general please review!