Consequences of the Heart
7: Dreams and Letters

By Mr. Intel

Previous 1: Alternating Scenery 2: Assignments and Requirements 3: Weeding the Past 4: Emotional Ties 5: On the Cusp of Something Grand 6: Black is the Colour of My True Love's Hair 7: Dreams and Letters Epilogue - Parental Prognostications Next

A large staircase appeared before Harry. It looked to be about ten yards from one side to the other. There was a brass handrail in the middle of the staircase that extended its entire length, but there were no railings on the sides. It simply dropped off on the edges.

Harry walked over to the end of the stairs and peered tentatively down the side. There was a huge drop-off, Harry estimated about fifty yards, and a raging river churned around jagged rocks at the bottom. Harry wasn’t normally afraid of heights, but something about this chasm sent a chill of fear up his spine.

Looking back up the stairs, he felt compelled to see what was at the top, so he grabbed the railing. He felt a feeling of peace and confidence fill him, and he began climbing. The stairs stopped every now and then to reveal a small platform, and the ascent became easier for a moment. The railing was always there. The farther he travelled, the more urgent it seemed to reach whatever destination lay before him.

Almost without warning, a large, black cloud moved in and enveloped him. It was thick and moist, cutting off all light. A piercing cold crept into him, and he began to shudder. He folded his arms tightly against himself to keep in as much heat as possible, letting go of the railing to do so. As soon as his hand left the railing, the confidence and urgency he felt earlier left him and were replaced with despair and uncertainty.

The mist was so thick that he couldn’t see anything around him. He groped desperately for the railing but quickly lost all sense of direction. In his misery, he called out for help, but the mist halted his cries almost before they left his mouth. Thinking he had heard something to his left, he stepped in that direction, but his foot missed and he fell. A jolt of panic gripped him and as he cleared the mist, he saw the jagged rocks below him. Harry screamed and tried to brace himself for the impact, but it never came.

Cold.

Biting, penetrating cold.

Harry had never been so cold in his life. The Dementors made him cold, but that was nothing by comparison.

His teeth were chattering and his body shook as Harry tried to gather his blankets close to his body.

He heard someone gasp and murmur something incomprehensible. Warmth enveloped his torso, and then spread to his legs and arms. The murmuring continued as the warmth moved over different parts of his body until his teeth unclenched and his muscles relaxed.

With a contented sigh, Harry fell back to sleep.

*

Light pricked painfully in Harry’s eyes and as he blinked them open, he realized that it was morning already. The blurry edges of his world told him his glasses weren’t on his face. Dim light spilled from his curtained window making it hurt his head to open his eyelids more than a fraction. Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness, the outline of a dream danced just outside of his grasp.

As Harry sat up, a wave of dizziness overcame him and he fell back onto his pillow.

"Harry! You’re awake!" said an unknown person from the shadows. The voice was familiar, but his brain was just as fuzzy as his eyesight and he couldn’t quite grasp who was speaking. Then things started to click into place. The party. The song. Ginny.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked out. His throat was abnormally dry, as if he’d slept with his mouth open all night.

"Shh," she said. "I’m going to Floo Mum. Don’t try to move." Then with an indistinct rustling noise, she was gone.

Harry thought hard. Last night had been Ginny’s birthday party. He had been sent to fetch her for dinner and heard her singing. Then his head hurt and as he lay in his bed, even the memory became painful. He tried to recall how he had returned to number four, but the details kept slipping from his mind like sand through his fingers.

Harry closed his eyes.

*

Voices. They seemed so far away, but he clung to them and felt himself being pulled upward.

"...just tired, Ginny. Dumbledore will be here in a little while anyway. Why don’t you go back to the Burrow and try to get some sleep yourself?"

"But, Mum," came Ginny’s voice and with it, a new torrent of feelings that weren’t his. "He was freezing last night and the warming charm barely kept him from going into hypothermia." The feelings in his head should have been painful, but they weren’t. But why should Ginny’s voice hurt at all? he wondered.

Then he caught a vision of Molly, looking concernedly at someone to his left. But he knew it was Ginny’s eyes he was seeing through.

Ginny sucked in a breath and Harry’s eyes fluttered open. "He’s awake now," Ginny said.

"You need to go, Ginny. Dumbledore said it might be dangerous to be here when he’s not sleeping." Harry thought he saw a blurry version of Ginny twisting her hands together and felt her indecision.

"All right," she finally said. "But I need to know what’s going on. I won’t be shut out of his life again."

"Fine, fine," Mrs. Weasley said. "Now, off you go."

Harry tried to sit up again and found his head still opposed to the idea, but he managed to prop himself halfway onto the headboard before Mrs. Weasley clucked her tongue and helped straighten him out.

There was a flash of something in the back of his mind and then it was gone. Harry hadn’t noticed it before, but as the sensation lifted, he realized that there had been a distinct buzzing noise in his head.

"You need to conserve your strength, Harry," Molly said as she felt his forehead with her cool palm. Then she muttered to herself, "Still warm."

"Mrs. Weasley?" he asked tentatively, still with a gravelly voice. "Water?"

"Of course, dear." She took a glass from a tray next to Harry’s head and helped him take a sip. It was lukewarm and slightly stale, but Harry couldn’t remember having ever enjoyed such a simple pleasure.

His throat soaked up the water so effectively that he barely had to swallow. "Did something happen? Why is Ginny so worried about me?"

Harry felt his glasses thrust into his hand and he hooked them around his ears.

"You’ve been asleep for five days, Harry," said Molly, concern evident in her voice.

"Five — What?"

"Dumbledore will be better able to explain things, but I think it has something to do with how you feel about Ginny." There was an odd twinkle in her eyes as she said this.

Harry blinked. "How I...feel?"

She patted him on the hand and stood. "He’ll be here in a bit. Just try to relax until then and I’ll send him up."

A few minutes later, Harry’s head was still reeling, though it wasn’t because his memories were foggy any more. Instead, dozens of questions kept shooting through his mind that didn’t have answers; and as he waited, this lack of knowledge left him feeling frustrated.

The door squeaked open and a purple-robed wizard entered. "Hello, Harry," said Professor Dumbledore. "Well rested?"

"What’s going on?" Harry blurted. "Why have I been sleeping for five days? What’s this got to do with Ginny?"

Dumbledore raised a hand to stop the flood of questions. Peering at Harry over his half-moon spectacles, he said, "Do you remember our discussion on the bond you share with Miss Weasley?"

Harry nodded.

"And can you recall what I said about how the more...unpleasant side-effects of the bond could be overcome?"

"Something about my..." Harry said as understanding dawned on him, "my feelings?"

"In order to regulate the effects of the bond, you both had to come to terms with how you felt for one another; to accept them."

A familiar queasiness settled in Harry’s stomach. "You don’t mean that I — that I'm in love with Ginny?"

Dumbledore chuckled and sat back in the chair next to Harry’s bed. "No, Harry. What I‘m saying is that however you feel about Miss Weasley, and however she feels about you, those feelings must be understood and accepted before you can be in close proximity. Your recent coma tells me that you were faced with your feelings and you rejected them, at least temporarily."

Harry’s mind was moving so fast, he couldn’t think of a single thing to say.

"And if I’m not mistaken," the elderly wizard continued, "it was aggravated by the fact that Ginny has accepted her feelings for you, making the bond stable in one direction, but not in the other." Dumbledore cleared his throat and smoothed out his robes. "It would behoove you to come to terms with Miss Weasley and your feelings for her, whatever they may be. Otherwise, it will become increasingly difficult for you to be in the same room together...to play Quidditch, or anything else that requires a close proximity...."

"But what about the dampening charm?" Harry asked desperately. "Can’t you — I don’t know — make it so we can be around each other again?"

"No, Harry," Dumbledore said simply, rising to his feet. "I’m afraid that the bond is too unstable for me to interfere any longer. Any tampering could make the connection volatile, risking worse than a temporary coma for both of you."

Harry swallowed. "What do I have to do?"

Dumbledore leaned over and rested a hand on Harry’s shoulder. "Face your feelings, Harry. Embrace them and discover another side of the most powerful force in the universe."

*

It was Saturday morning and Harry had been asleep for five days. Knowing this didn’t comfort him any and neither did knowing that he had to ‘face his feelings’ for Ginny.

Harry puttered around the house, his strength coming back to him surprisingly fast. His uncle was on the settee, reading the paper as usual. Aunt Petunia was gossiping on the phone and Dudley was outside, presumably beating up ten-year-olds.

Wandering outside, Harry sat on the garden bench and propped his head in his hands. The sky was a clear, bright blue. It was mild for mid-August, a rainstorm having come through while Harry slept. He watched absently as birds twittered around the branches of an apple tree and he longed to be relieved of his impending decision.

A tiny owl swooped low through the apple tree, upsetting the finches and landed excitedly on the bench beside Harry. He tried to catch the small bird, but had to make several tries before Ron’s owl was calm enough.

"Right, Pig," said Harry as the bird squirmed in his hand. "Hold still so I can get this letter."

Finally extracting the parchment, he let Pig free and unfolded it to reveal Ron’s untidy handwriting.


Harry,

Mum said you’d finally woken up. She’s been going nutters over here all week, but that’s nothing compared to what Ginny’s been like. I don’t know what happened on her birthday, but you’ve got to do something about her. If you don’t, she’ll be in St. Mungo’s for sure and she just might take us with her. I don’t fancy having nonstop bat-bogeys just because you two can’t stand each other or can’t stand to be apart from each other. Take your pick. Me? I think Ginny’s hormonal, but you wouldn’t catch me saying that to her face.

Remember that talk we had a while ago? About the list? School’s about to start, so you better get cracking. If we haven’t got a good three or four names by then, your name is Mud, got it?

Ron


The list. Harry had forgotten about it, but now that he remembered, it seemed both utterly ridiculous and the perfect solution to his problem. He only needed to work out the details....

*

Harry finished the letter, folded it, stuffed it into an envelope along with the rest of the message, addressed it, and stared up at Hedwig. "Well, girl," he said as she alighted on the edge of the desk, a great weight settling in his stomach. "I reckon it’s time to get this over with."

After giving her specific instructions, Harry watched his owl swoop silently through the window and off into the cool morning air.

*

Ron looked up from his Marvin the Mad Muggle comic to see Hedwig dive low around the kitchen and into the living room, alighting on the back of his chair. A letter fell from her beak and she immediately flew upstairs, wings beating madly as she manoeuvred through the tight spaces of the house.

Opening the letter, Ron scanned it for a few minutes before his jaw dropped and the letter fell to the table in front of him, covering Marvin’s oddly drawn head. A smile formed on his lips and he made to grab it up again, just to make sure he had read it right, but the fireplace in the kitchen roared to life and someone began to shout for him in the kitchen.

"Coming!" he called back, walking swiftly to the grate to see who it was.

*

"Ginny!" yelled Ron from downstairs. "I’m off to Mr. Smith’s to help him fix his stove!"

Shaking her head, Ginny stroked Hedwig’s feathers lightly, and said under her breath, "Why does he insist on shouting?"

She got up and placed Hedwig on the perch she had purchased with her left-over pocket money. Since Harry had been at the Burrow so much over the summer, she felt it best for the beautiful Snowy owl to have a place to rest while Harry worked.

Giving Hedwig a final scratch behind her head, she calmly walked downstairs and said, "You don’t need to shout, Ron. I can hear you just fine."

"Right," he retorted as he put on his cloak and grabbed a handful of powder. "I’m off." He threw the granules into the flames, turning the dancing fire emerald green and stepped into the grate.

Thinking she’d like to read something relaxing to take her mind off of Harry, Ginny walked into the living room and sat in the large overstuffed recliner, eyes tracing the various magazines on the coffee table. Witch Weekly, Better Gnomes and Gardens, Marvin the Mad Muggle...   "What’s this?" asked Ginny out loud as she fingered a small red ribbon that sat on a piece of parchment.

Looking around to make sure Ron was indeed gone, she picked up the parchment and snuggled into her chair, ready for a good read.


Dear Ron,

Your letter couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. Since Ginny’s party, I’ve been thinking a lot about my girlfriend situation, and more specifically, the list. In an effort to narrow down the field, I’ve enclosed some of the attributes of a decent Potter girlfriend. Let me know what you think after you’ve read the whole thing. I don’t want to waste my time with anyone that doesn’t have all the desirable qualities.

Whatever girl I’m going to be serious with has to be a lot like my mother. I’m looking at a picture of my mum and dad when they were eighteen and I can see exactly why my dad fell for her. She was gorgeous, with her long red hair... I think I like red hair, so let’s make sure the list of girls includes at least a few redheads. Also, she should be smart. I was reading through some of my mother’s accomplishments at Hogwarts and it says she was the best Charms student in the school. Anyone who’s that good at Charms, especially medical Charms, has got to be worth another look, right?

I’ve also been thinking a lot about my family. I know it’s stupid for us to think about things like this, but I can’t help but being attracted to a girl that wants to have a lot of kids. So when we write up that list, let’s include girls who come from a big family.

My dream girl has to like me for who I am. Ever since the Ministry has backed Dumbledore on the whole You-Know-Who thing, I’ve been getting piles of letters from all kinds of girls. My girlfriend will have to like me for who I am and maybe even have some kind of connection or bond with me already. She’s also got to be able to know what to do with me when I’m being moody. You know how hard-headed I can be...so let’s try to figure out if there’s anyone who can put me in my place when I’m being a git.

The only other thing that comes to mind when we’re putting this list together is that the girl I want to be with has to know that anything is possible if you’ve got enough nerve. That she can never give up on me, even if I’ve ignored her for years or fancied other girls when the thing I’ve always wanted is to be with her.

Harry

P.S. Ginny...since I know you’re likely to be reading this...if you’re free, would you like to go with me to the first Hogsmeade weekend?


Her cheeks burned with a mixture of guilt and pleasure, and a small tear tugged on the corner of her eye. Ginny quickly re-read the letter, checking through the qualifications to make sure she matched. A sound from the kitchen caused her to jump as she was about halfway through the third pass, and she dropped the parchment back onto the table and on top of the ribbon, before standing up to face Ron.

Ginny concentrated on keeping her face neutral when her brother sauntered into the room, putting his cloak haphazardly onto the peg by the bookshelf. He walked over to where she was standing and immediately put up his guard.

"What’s up with you?" he asked suspiciously. "Have you..."

"Ron, if you put any name other than mine on the top of that list, I'm going to make sure that you never, ever have children," she said in clipped tones. Then for good measure added, "You know I can do it, too."

"You have been reading it!" he said incredulously. "How did Harry know?"

"Ron," said Ginny sharply, bringing him out of his reverie, "the list?"

"Oh, right.... Let's see," said Ron, nodding his head, "Susan Bones -- she's got kinda red hair, doesn't she? Not a really big family, but I hear she really likes kids, so that's a plus." He hadn’t even smirked while saying it and that thought alone irked Ginny even more than the fact that he was already talking about other girls, despite her threat. "And she's really good at Charms, got an O on her O.W.L. in Charms, I'm sure."

Ginny made a choking noise but that was all she could manage, suddenly wishing she hadn’t left her wand upstairs.

"Padma," continued Ron, oblivious to Ginny’s mounting anger. "Now, she loves kids, really does, I heard her say so — she's great at Charms, too. I wonder how she'd feel about dying her hair — it would really look smashing with her complexion. She’s even enquired about Harry’s dating status."

Suddenly inspired, Ginny said, "Then put Granger's name on the list, Ron."

His smile faltered immediately. "What?"

"She's great at Charms — there's no one better," said Ginny, now fighting a smirk of her own. Ron was so easy to rile.

"But she hates kids — she's an only child," he said, back-pedalling to the bookcase.

Ginny advanced, pressing her advantage. "She’s told me many times that she hated growing up as an only child and was going to ensure that she had a large enough family to make up for that. Go ahead," she said, pointing back to Harry’s letter, "put her name down too."

"But Ginnnnnnnnnnnnny," whinged Ron with obvious agitation.

"Ron, don't make me hurt you."

"But the hair, the hair's all wrong," Ron protested. "Harry would never go for a girl without red hair."

But Ginny wasn’t going to let him off that easy. "Sleekeasy makes a complete line of colouring products, Ron, get with the program." She paused, letting him chew on the idea of Hermione with straight red hair before pressing on. "Why don't you want your best mate to have the best girl?"

"Ginny, I'm not going to put Hermione's name down on this list!"

The change from whine to adamant refusal was entertaining to watch. Still, Ginny persisted. "Why not, Ron?"

Ron shifted nervously on his feet before saying, "I don't want them to be unhappy."

"I think that Harry could be quite happy with Hermione," she said, crossing her fingers behind her back. "She's really quite an accomplished witch, the brightest in her year. And that last growth spurt really left her with some major cleavage."

Ron’s face reddened ever so slightly, but enough that Ginny could tell she was getting close to cornering him. "She doesn't have major cleavage — she's no bigger than a b-cup," Ron replied.

"And you know this how, Ron?" she asked with an eyebrow raised so high it disappeared into her hairline. When Ron had spluttered for a second, Ginny said, "Oh, yes, dig your way out of that one, Mr. Weasley."

*

A nervous worm was wriggling inside Harry’s stomach as he waited for Hedwig to return with Ginny’s reply (or Ron’s for that matter). His cousin had come home an hour before and was playing a computer game in his room. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were at the cinema and Harry was on the sofa, alternating between staring at the open kitchen window and picking at a loose thread on one of the pillows.

Harry was surprised when the Floo connection in the Dursleys’ living room flared to life and a red-haired witch stepped out, a red ribbon wrapped around her waist and a matching bow perched on top of her head.

Harry’s mouth fell to the floor.

"Hello, Harry," she said in the most sultry voice he had ever heard.

So enraptured by Ginny’s presence, he barely noticed the roaring in his ears. "Hel — Hello," he said weakly.

Ginny walked slowly and deliberately towards him. At last, she arrived and sat on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and placing a teasing kiss on his cheek.

Harry gave an involuntary shudder as she leaned down to his ear and whispered, "I'm ready. The answer to your question is yes."

The buzzing noise in his head was quite loud, but he somehow managed to hear her. "Y — Yes?" he stuttered.

"Yes, I’ll go with you to Hogsmeade."

Harry’s mouth snapped shut and a grin crept onto his face. "Really?"

Her eyes fell to his lips and then rose tentatively to meet his gaze. "Did you honestly think I would say no?"

Not knowing what to say, Harry shook his head. A torrent of her emotions flooded their link and it was all he could do to focus on her and not the way she wiggled in his lap. He hadn't the foggiest notion of what he should do, but he knew that finally, he was ready to do it.

Ginny’s arms detached from behind him and Harry groaned inwardly at the loss of contact. Then to his immense relief, she pushed his shoulders until he was flat against the back of the sofa and hesitantly lowered her face to his.

Once again, a war was being waged in Harry’s head as they kissed. A war between intense happiness and unrelenting pain as the dampening charm succumbed to the load. This time, however, the outcome was very different.

The dampening charm broke with an audible crack. Thereafter, the buzzing turned into a light humming, and gradually, as their lips continued to dance over each other, it became a soft, ethereal melody. It was Ginny’s song.

"Oi! Freak!" came a rude voice from the stairs. "I’m telling Dad you’re snogging that freaky tart on Mum's sofa!"

They never broke their kiss, but as one, pushed with their minds at the source of the voice, their hands entirely too busy to reach for a wand. Dudley squealed and Harry heard a dull thud as the boy presumably hit the floor on the upper level. In fact, Ginny seemed intent on making sure Harry forgot all about it.

Some time later, Ginny pulled back and Harry found himself drawn up to her before she pushed him back to the sofa. "Harry," she said breathlessly. "What just happened?"

"Well," he said with a wry smirk. "I think they call it kissing."

A whack with the back of her hand only made him wince, but his grin never faltered. "I mean the buzzing in my head, you git. It’s gone."

Harry focused on his thoughts and noticed that not only was it gone, but that Ginny’s thoughts and emotions were absent, despite her insistence upon remaining in his lap.

"You’re right. I wonder...."

But instead of finishing his sentence, he jumped at the sound of a loud crack.

"There you are," said Mrs. Weasley clutching her chest. "I’ve been looking for you for an hour. You’re brother said something about Harry sending him a letter, then you turn up missing...."

Ginny rotated herself slowly on Harry’s lap and stood to face her mother. "I’m fine, Mum. Harry just needed to talk and I Flooed over for a minute. I hadn’t realised we’d been talking for this long."

Molly eyed her sceptically. "Talking.... I suppose this was holding your notes?" she asked, pointing to the ribbon and then to the bow that was dangling precariously on the top of her now-messy hair. A fit of giggles welled up inside Harry’s chest, but he forced them down.

Unfazed, Ginny smoothed her hair and removed the bow. "You would have had to have been there, Mum. You wouldn’t understand."

Mrs. Weasley narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "I think you’d find I know exactly what it’s like to sneak over to my boyfriend’s house for a snog, Ginny."

With a bright red face, Ginny untied the ribbon with a flourish. When Harry’s laughter broke free and he fell over on the sofa, Ginny stomped her foot indignantly. "It’s not funny, Harry. You just wait until I get you alone again."

Even Molly had a smile on her face at that. "I’m going to pop back home," she said to a still red-faced Ginny. "I’ll give you five minutes to Floo to the Burrow, and then I’ll expect a better explanation. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Mum," said Ginny contritely.

"Oh, and Harry, dear?" Molly asked in a sugary sweet voice.

Harry straightened on the sofa. "Erm...yes?"

"We need to talk about some of the monetary arrangements you’ve made this summer."

The colour drained from Harry’s face, but he managed to say, "Yes, Mrs. Weasley."

Another crack sounded and they were alone again.

Ginny raised an eyebrow at Harry. "What was Mum talking about?"

"Nothing important," Harry said, trying to deflect her line of questioning. "What was that you said you were going to do to me when we’re alone?"

Ginny sank back onto his lap; this time, straddling him with her legs. "This," she said and firmly planted her lips on his.

Just as things were starting to get interesting she jumped off of him, and with a saucy wink, walked back into the grate. "The Burrow!" she yelled and was gone.

*

The next two weeks were some of the most interesting and difficult of the summer. After Ginny had left, an owl arrived from Dumbledore informing him that he would no longer be required to do chores at the Burrow. There was no explanation for this sudden change and combined with the fact that all his homework was done, Harry no longer had an excuse to see Ginny. "Just when I want to see her," he had lamented.

Harry and Ginny traded owls, which helped, but he found it more and more frustrating to not be able to see her. Not to be able to touch her and make sure that it all hadn’t been some kind of twisted fantasy.

When the Dursleys came home and saw their precious Duddikins knocked out on the upper landing, they immediately blamed Harry. When Dudley finally regained consciousness however, he remained surprisingly tight-lipped about his condition, and avoided Harry for the rest of the summer.

*

Platform nine-and-three-quarters was packed when Harry arrived, fifteen minutes before the train’s scheduled departure. He slipped through the light crowd and, not seeing anyone he recognized, onto the train.

Selecting a compartment towards the back of the Express, Harry stowed his trunk in the overhead compartment along with Hedwig’s cage before settling into his seat.

Numerous students filed by his door, peeking in to look at him and his scar while Harry did his best to ignore them. Just as the warning whistle sounded, the compartment door slid open and three students piled in.

"Harry!" said Hermione in a rush, and he was pulled onto his feet and into a crushing hug. When she drew back, she said, "We didn’t see you on the platform and waited as long as we could."

"I’m fine," said Harry with a glance at Ginny. His stomach flipped and despite having just gotten an owl from her last night, he couldn’t wait to talk to her, preferably alone.

"Hey, mate," Ron said as they swapped grins. Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione, who was busy checking Harry over, presumably to make sure he wasn’t damaged in some way.

Ron pulled Hermione away from Harry and sat them down in the opposite seat, leaving Ginny and Harry standing.

"Hey," Harry said, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

"Hi," she said tentatively and walked up to him, snaking an arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. "I missed you."

"I missed you, too," he said into her hair as he tightened his embrace.

After a moment of shared silence, Ginny pressed something cold and hard into his hand. "Here. They’ve lost their magic, but I had Mum fix them for us."

It was the monitoring bracelets that they had worn over the holidays. Harry held it in his open hand and stared at the simple lines and worn edges. Ginny dangled her wrist in front of him to show that she had hers on already. Harry put his on as well.

They gave each other a small squeeze and sat down across from Ron and Hermione, who were now arguing over the new Head Boy.

"Roger Davies is an exceptional student, Ron." As she said this, the train gave a shuddering lurch and slowly built up speed as it left the station.

"But he’s also an insufferable git," Ron explained, breaking the top off of a chocolate frog.

Hermione crossed her arms and flung her hair back across her shoulder. "Just because he’s in Ravenclaw does not make him a git."

"He’s a git because he’s been out with five different girls a term since he was a second year."

Hermione faltered. "I haven’t heard that about him. He seemed really nice in the owls he sent me...."

Ginny nudged Harry in the side and Harry raised an eyebrow.

"He’s been sending you letters?" asked Ron. "Since when?"

"It was only a few and it was only this summer," Hermione said with a huff. "What does it matter to you?"

When Ron didn’t answer, Harry chuckled to himself, Ginny leaned into him and he pulled her close with an arm.

When will they ever get a clue? Ginny asked.

Harry snorted. "I think they’ll just go from arguing to snogging in one smooth motion."

"What was that?" asked Ron turning to look at him.

"What do you mean, ‘snogging’?" Hermione said.

Harry tensed. "Ginny started it," he said weakly.

Pulling away from Harry, Ginny said, "I didn’t say anything."

"Yes you..." Looking from one questioning face to another, Harry thought quickly and said, "Are you worried that Roger is trying to make Hermione his next conquest, Ron?"

Hermione and Ron turned their attention back to each other and Ginny whispered in Harry’s ear, "You heard me say something?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a slight shiver from her breath. "I heard you ask when they were going to get a clue. Uh, you didn’t say that?"

She shook her head. "No, but I was thinking it."

After considering this for a while, Harry shrugged his shoulders. "There’s nothing coming across our link now, so I guess it was a fluke. Maybe we should ask Dumbledore?"

"Yeah, maybe," she answered as Ron and Hermione continued to bicker.

Soon, the gentle rocking of the train made Harry’s eyes heavy and he let his head fall against Ginny’s shoulder, surrendering to the soporific air that seemed to permeate the compartment.

*

Ginny was happy. Ron and Hermione had left for their Prefect’s meeting and Harry was sleeping peacefully with his head in her lap, his legs stretched out on the seat they shared. She stared out the window and watched as the Scottish countryside sped past, absently twirling a lock of his hair with her finger.

A lot had happened over the summer, and Ginny decided that while hexing Harry hadn’t been the best decision she had ever made, she could certainly live with the consequences.

The compartment door slid open and a blonde head appeared, familiar sneer plastered on his face, flanked by two hulking shadows.

"Isn’t this cosy," Malfoy said with contempt. "Is this what your father had to stoop to doing to make ends meet? Renting out his daughter to the Boy-With-Too-Much-Money?"

"Go away, Malfoy," said Ginny, hardly giving him a second glance. Ginny had dealt with all kinds of attitudes before and knew that the best thing to do with an over-inflated sense of importance was to belittle it. "Your jokes are old and your maturity lacking. Didn’t daddy teach you how to play nice?"

Malfoy scowled. "I wouldn’t be so cocky if I were you, Weaselette. The Dark Lord knows about you and Potter, here." He leaned in towards her and Ginny narrowed her eyes. "He’s not forgotten about your first year," he said with a whisper and then left with a swish of his robes.

"I haven't either," Ginny replied as her blood turned to ice. An image of a sixteen-year-old Tom Riddle appeared unbidden in her mind. His taunting face and fair promises resonated within her as the train continued to shake and roll on the tracks. She shuddered and banished the thought, pressing her hand on Harry’s forehead. Peace filled her again and she let out a ragged breath.

*

Harry awoke with a start as the Express lurched into Hogsmeade station. He felt rested and happy, an odd occurrence for him. Lifting himself off of the bench, he realized that he had been using Ginny’s lap as a pillow. Ron and Hermione had either never returned, or had left again while he’d slept.

Throwing his robes on over his jeans and tee shirt, he nudged Ginny’s shoulder. "Time to wake up, Gin."

She stirred a little, but only managed to curl up in the corner of the seat before her breathing slowed once more.

Harry sat next to her and pulled her away from the window, taking her into his arms.

Her eyes blinked open and focused on Harry. "Are we there, yet?" she asked sleepily.

"Yes," he said with a smile. "Time to go to the castle and get fed."

Ginny yawned through a chuckle. "Boys and food."

They grabbed their trunks and Harry tapped them with his wand, lightening them considerably. "We’re at school now," he explained. "No sense in lugging these around when we can use magic."

With his left arm around Ginny’s shoulders, they walked out of the train and found Ron holding the door to a carriage. "Thought you’d never show," Ron said, pointing to the front of the carriage, which was rolling back and forth on its wheels. "Thestrals must be chomping at the bit to get going."

They piled in and found Neville and Luna already inside. "Hellooo, Harrrry," said Luna in a prolonged intonation, not taking her eyes from the latest edition of the Quibbler.

"Hi, Luna. Neville," Harry said as the carriage started to move. "You lot have good summers?"

"I was about to ask you the same thing," Neville said with a pointed look at Harry and Ginny’s joined hands. "Last I saw you, wild Hippogriffs couldn’t keep you in the same room."

Harry and Ginny shared a small smile. "He’s seen the error of his ways and has paid his penalty," Ginny supplied.

With a muffled guffaw, Harry said, "Don’t listen to her, Neville. Ginny’s just upset because she couldn’t resist my charms long enough to hex me again — Ow!"

"I don’t need to hex you, dear," Ginny said with a satisfied smile. "I have lots more leverage over you now."

Harry rubbed his foot and tried to come up with a witty retort. When nothing came to mind he simply shrugged and leaned into her soft hair.

*

As the students walked into the castle, a pair of light-blue eyes watched impassively from the tower above. Dumbledore sighed contentedly and turned to regard the flame-red phoenix perched beside him. "They’ve completed the bonding."

The bird let out a low trilling note in response.

"Yes, they have been. However, I wonder if it would have been too late when they realized what it was they had together."

Fawkes kept his steady gaze on the Headmaster, not bothering to answer.

Dumbledore grinned, and then clasped his hands behind him. "I’d best make an appearance at the feast. Do try to stay out of trouble while I’m away."

The bird ruffled his feathers as if the very idea was absurd and unexpectedly launched into the air, cuffing the headmaster around the head.

"Very well," Dumbledore said with a smirk. "Have it your way."

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