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SIYE Time:15:13 on 29th March 2024
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Finding Ginny
By wrappedinharry

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:All
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Rape
Rating: R
Reviews: 149
Summary: Ginny Weasley disappeared three and a half years ago. Her family have never given up hope of finding her. But when Harry Potter does find her, she refuses to return home with him. Why did she just disappear, and why does Harry feel a burning desire to bring her back to her family when she obviously wants to be left alone?
Hitcount: Story Total: 63596; Chapter Total: 3408
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Ginny tries to tell her story but doesn't get very far because her volatile brother won't shut up.




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Chapter 11: Finding Ginny

Hermione recovered first; she crashed the teapot down on the table and had her wand in her hand and the mess banished before anyone else even realised she had spilled tea over the tabletop.

Ginny wrapped her arms more tightly around her middle and with a groan of despair she sat down abruptly on the bottom step. With her elbows on her knees, she lowered her head and grabbed twin hanks of hair at the roots and tightened her grip fiercely. Harry couldn’t see the tears but he could see Ginny’s shoulders heaving with silent sobs.

Swallowing the lump of emotion in his throat, Harry wanted to go to her but he had his arms full of a sniffling Bonnie. It was Hermione who rushed to Ginny’s side; she squeezed herself onto the step next to her and gathered the distressed figure into her arms. She refused to let go; holding on tightly, she rocked the slight figure and whispered soothing words into her ear. Ginny finally melted, burying her face against Hermione’s shoulder and sobbing until Hermione’s jumper was soaked.

Even Ron seemed not to be immune to the misery pervading the basement kitchen. Harry had expected him to launch into a diatribe of disgust and judgement, so he was thankful when a pasty-faced Ron, his shoulders up around his ears, turned away from the sight of his distressed sister to stare out the window. Harry breathed a small sigh of relief, he would have hated to punch his best friend’s lights out.

Feeling worse than useless, Harry lowered himself onto a chair, rubbing Bonnie’s back while dividing his attention between the two women on the step and his volatile friend. Bonnie’s sniffles had finally petered out and she had moved her head slightly to free her mouth so that it could accommodate her thumb; Harry was too preoccupied to think about removing it. He watched Ron thrust his hands deep into his pockets and hitch his shoulders even higher when he apparently caught sight of the swing set.

Harry’s attention returned to the women when Hermione spoke. “Come on Ginny, I think we could do with a little girl time.” Not waiting for Ginny to demur, Hermione pulled the smaller girl up with little effort, although ascent proved difficult as Ginny was reluctant to lift her head from Hermione’s shoulder. Hermione shot Harry a ‘be patient’ look before she and her charge rounded the bend in the stairs.

When Harry returned his attention to Ron, he found him leaning against the bench looking after his wife and sister. When he felt Harry’s gaze on him, he crossed to the table and flung himself onto a chair. They stared at each other for what felt like hours to Harry. Finally Ron’s eyes fixed on Bonnie’s fair head where it was still nestled against Harry’s shoulder.

Ron gestured towards Bonnie with a movement of his head. “You look like a natural,” he said and though Harry didn’t think the words were a compliment, he answered truthfully.

“I feel like a natural.” He kissed the top of Bonnie’s head. “But she makes it easy. She’s a gorgeous kid.”

Ron’s eyes remained fixed on the blonde curls. If he thought they were gorgeous, no one would have been able to tell from his closed expression. Finally he snarled, “If she’s Malfoy’s, she could never be gor...”

“Don’t say anything you’ll regret, Ron,” interrupted Harry; his words were quietly spoken but his eyes were narrowed in warning.

Ron stared at Harry, his eyes roving over each individual feature as if he was trying to figure out where he knew Harry from. “Malfoy, Harry!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“No matter who her father is, her mother is your sister. She...” Harry palmed the back of Bonnie’s small head, “is your niece.”

Ron’s brow creased as if he could not quite believe what Harry had just said. His eyes moved again from Harry to Bonnie and back again. Then his face contorted and finally losing the battle to keep his barely held control together, he let out a bellow of rage, flinging himself off the chair and stalking around the kitchen like a madman.

At the sudden explosion of sound, Bonnie jerked violently in Harry’s arms; she screamed in fright and began to cry again. Harry stood and began to jiggle the little body, crooning into her ear and trying very hard not to allow his body language to communicate his own anger. At the same time he shot Ron a filthy look that Ron ignored, so caught up was he in his rant.

“I can’t believe any of this,” he roared. “My sister isn’t bloody dead after all and she’s got a kid who may or may not be fucking Malfoy’s!” He advanced on Harry and poked him in the shoulder with a rigid forefinger. “And you...you’ve kept us in the dark for bloody weeks, Harry. Weeks! Who the hell...”

Before Ron could utter another sound, Harry–despite his distraught burden–suddenly had his wand in his hand and pointed at Ron, whose voice was instantly silenced. Without pause, Harry charmed the nearest chair to shoot forward and crash into the back of Ron’s knees, sweeping his legs from under him so that he landed with a hard, painful thud onto the seat. An incensed Ron began a silent struggle to free himself from the invisible bonds that kept him tied to the chair. When he began to buck the chair across the floor, Harry silently charmed it to stick to the floor.

Ignoring this performance, Harry transfigured another chair into a large beanbag and feeling like a total bastard, prised a nearly hysterical Bonnie from where she clung like a limpet, and with difficulty, transferred the screaming, struggling child to the squishy beanbag; he held her in place with a firm hand on her torso so that she couldn’t squirm onto the floor. Her clothes quickly became dishevelled, her jumper and singlet riding up and baring her tummy.

With his heart breaking, Harry pointed his wand at the little girl and whispered, ‘Somnulus’. The screaming gradually wound down to whimpers and then sniffles. Bonnie’s wet eyes became heavy and her thumb found its way into her mouth again. Seconds later, she was asleep.

Harry gazed at the sleeping child for several seconds, then he straightened and rounded on Ron. Too late, Ron realised that he had crossed a line; he remembered the last time he had seen Harry this angry, and then, they had nearly fought with each other in a tent in the middle of nowhere. If not for Hermione’s intervention, Ron wasn’t sure how far that fight would have progressed. He did remember that he had wanted to tear Harry limb from limb and he knew Harry had felt the same way. Now it looked as if the Chosen One was going to get the opportunity to do him damage. Of course, in an even fight, there was no way Harry would be able to lay a finger on him.

But now...he leaned back in his prison, trying to increase the distance between himself and an imminent explosion.

“You bastard!” hissed Harry. Ron blinked and cringed away even further as Harry’s wand emitted a shower of red sparks that just missed his nose. “Do you ever stop to think before you give that bloody foul temper of yours free rein? Did you even think when you bellowed like a wounded bull elephant that you’d frighten that little girl?” Now it was Harry’s turn to start pacing. He seemed unaware that his wand was still emitting random fireworks, a couple of which hit the back of Ron’s hand. His bellow of pain went unheard.

When his steps took him past the beanbag, Harry stopped for several seconds and gazed at the sleeping child. She seemed to fuel his rage again and with a set face and eyes dark with displeasure, he turned back to face Ron.

Ron’s own fearful eyes stayed glued to Harry’s wand tip and following his gaze, Harry seemed to realise for the first time that the wand was putting on a similar show to one of the twins’ Conflagration Deluxe boxes. Sensibly, he put it on the table before turning away and running his fingers viciously through his hair, making it even untidier than normal.

“God, Ron, you are such a...such a dick!” He flung his arm out and pointed at his brother-in-all-but-name in dire accusation. The pointing finger joined its fellows in a clenched fist which looked as if it was having a hard time not connecting with a certain long nose.

“You, and your whole bloody family have been grieving for Ginny for over three years. But when a miracle happens and she reappears, do you celebrate her return? Do you hell?!” Harry began pacing again as he continued to rant.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot. For all of two minutes while you were in shock, you clung to her as if you would never let her go. But as soon as that peanut of a brain started chugging into action again, you decided that in this whole fucking mess, you’re the injured party.”

Up down, up down, Harry strode, his hands chopping through the air to illustrate his ire. Ron waved to try and signal for Harry to lift the spells that were keeping him silent and immobile, but Harry was blind to all but his anger.

“Ginny’s been through hell. She’s been without any family, and even though you were all in mourning, you still had each other. She gave birth without anyone at her side.” He stopped in front of Ron and bent down so their faces were on a level; he wasn’t so far lost in his anger that he was going to stand close enough for Ron to punch him.

“I’m not going to be the one to tell Ginny’s story because it isn’t mine to tell, even if I knew it, which I don’t. But I will tell you right now that I don’t give a flying fuck if Malfoy is Bonnie’s father. As far as I’m concerned, any Malfoy trait that might be lurking in that little girl is totally overshadowed by her mother’s genes.

“And before I have to listen to any more of your bellyaching, let me remind you that it wasn’t all that long ago that we fought a war to try and stamp out prejudice. You need to get over your Malfoy paranoia, Ron. And you need to listen to Ginny without exploding like one of the twins’ Whiz Bang Fireworks.

If Ron was listening, it didn’t show; he was now sitting with crossed arms and a mutinous face. Harry sighed; Ron’s body language told him he had not been entirely receptive to this little speech. He turned away, deciding to leave the moron to stew in his own juices, but Hermione entered the kitchen at that moment.

In typical Hermione fashion, she sized up the situation in a nanosecond. She sighed and ignoring her nearly apoplectic husband for the moment, she glared at Harry. “What happened?”

‘Ask your dickhead of a husband,” answered Harry, picking up his wand.

“A bit difficult, Harry, as you appear to have comprehensively silenced him.”

Harry ignored her and Ron; instead he stood and stared at Bonnie for a moment before waving his wand over her in a gentle back and forth motion. Hermione’s mouth fell open in shock as the little girl disappeared. Harry stood silently for a moment with his head slightly inclined, then, seemingly satisfied, he turned the beanbag back into a chair.

Determined to ignore his two friends, Harry then opened the oven and pulled out the partially cooked roast. With a series of wand movements he set the meat on a platter, hovered it across the room, opened the fridge door and shuffled the contents around on one of the shelves to make room.

When he shut the door and turned to face the room again, he could see by Hermione’s set face and thin lips that she had taken exception to this whole performance. Harry had caused the little girl to Disapparate, put the food away and rearranged the contents of the fridge, non-verbally; not a breath of sound had escaped his lips.

She hated herself, but she was so envious of Harry’s new, formidable magical prowess. She found it difficult to be outshone by her friend. After all, she had always been the best of the three of them at spells when they were at school. Harry raised his eyebrows to question her obvious displeasure.

“One of these days, Harry, that wand is going to backfire on you.”

Harry sighed and shook his head. “Even with all the evidence that you’ve seen with your own eyes, you’ve never been able to embrace wand lore, have you, Hermione?” Hermione’s lips set in an even thinner line and she crossed her arms, her own wand gripped tightly in her right fist.

Harry held up his wand and jiggled it between his thumb and forefinger. “The wand chooses the wizard, Hermione. I know Mr Ollivander must have told you that when you bought your original wand, because he told everyone that.”

“Yes, Harry,” retorted Hermione in a superior tone. “But that...” she pointed at Harry’s wand, “...is not the exact wand that chose you, now is it?”

Harry shook his head in exasperation and Hermione exploded. Ron was nearly apoplectic, forgotten by his wife and friend. “Something happened to your wand, Harry, when you mended it with the Elder Wand.”

“And you can’t even consider that I may have grown into my powers.”

“What rubbish,” said Hermione. “Your powers changed when the Elder Wand transferred some of its magic to your wand.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, I don’t see the problem, myself. It’s still eleven inches of holly with a phoenix feather core. And the Elder Wand owed its allegiance to me when I used it to mend this wand. Perhaps that’s why my wand absorbed some of its power.”

Hermione’s chin raised a notch, and Harry shook his head, clearly sick of the conversation. “I know I’m no Dumbledore, Hermione. I do know my limitations, even with this wand. And as I don’t plan to take over the Wizarding World as the next Dark Lord, or exploit my magic in any way, I’ll keep my wand thank you very much.”

Hermione snorted. “Oh, no, you don’t exploit your magic.” She pointed at Ron. “What about what you did to Ron?”

“Ask him what he did to deserve that.”

“I don’t care what he did. Release him.”

Harry turned away and made a show of picking up the kettle, shaking it to determine how full it was, before walking to the sink to fill it.

“See,” he said over his shoulder, “I’m not anti doing things the non-magical way.” He put the kettle on the cook top and turned on the gas.

“Well, if you’ve entirely finished faffing about in both your magical and non-magical fashion, Harry, release Ron.”

“If you want to listen to more of his shit, you release him,” said Harry as he removed clean mugs from the cupboard.

Hermione’s cheeks reddened and she crossed her arms. “You know very well that I can’t undo any spell you cast with that...that super wand of yours.”

Harry rolled his eyes but he finally flicked his wand towards Ron. Instantly, mobility was restored and Ron bounded up, an ugly scowl firmly in place as he glared at Harry. He looked as though he wanted to launch into another loud outburst, but with a glance at where the beanbag had been, he managed to moderate his tone even though Bonnie was no longer close.

“You bloody wanker!”he ground out. “Is that any way to treat a friend?”

Harry’s eyebrows rose and he took on a mock thoughtful expression. “I don’t know, Ron. Perhaps I should take lessons from you on how to treat friends. I wonder if it’s the same way you treat family.

"Both of you, SHUT UP!" Hermione's shrill voice and livid face did the trick. Harry glanced at her for a moment, his face closed; then he sighed and turned back to his tea preparations. He was really just occupying his hands with an activity while waiting for Ginny; he had lost count of the number of cups of tea that had been made and not drunk in the last hour.

Ron glared at his wife but she was having none of it. "Your sister has come home! That's the only thing that matters at this stage, Ron."

But it was obvious that a battle was still being played out in Ron's head. Husband and wife continued to glare at each other for several more tense seconds, but then Ron's gaze shifted and settled just beyond her shoulder. Hermione saw some of the fury drain out of him before he thrust his hands into his jeans pockets and backed up until his bum came up against the cabinets.

Hermione turned to find a pale but dry-eyed Ginny standing at the base of the stairs. She quickly hurried to Ginny’s side and placing a comforting arm around her narrow shoulders, she led her to a chair. But Ginny resisted sitting down and Hermione looked at her with deep concern.

Ginny stepped away from Hermione, though she clasped her hand and squeezed it to show that she was not rejecting her overtures to be perverse. Ron was looking at his sister with narrowed eyes, but she totally ignored him and looked at Harry.

“Where’s Bonnie?” she asked, though she displayed no overt concern. Her calmness showed the other two just how much Ginny trusted Harry when it came to her daughter.

“She’s in her bed, sound asleep. She won’t wake till I wake her.” Ginny’s eyebrows puckered a little, but she nodded and Hermione was surprised that she showed no concern over the fact that Harry must have used magic on her daughter.

Ginny noted the tea preparations, and she pulled a face before marching across the room and switching off the gas. “I couldn’t look another cup of tea in the face,’ she stated categorically. Then without a by-your-leave–and to Harry’s utter astonishment–she removed his wand from his loose-fingered grasp and pointed it at the cupboard above the refrigerator.

Everyone held their breath when Ginny said, “Accio, Firewhisky”, in a firm voice. The door opened and a bottle flew into her outstretched hand. A smile of pure delight broke across Harry’s face, but Ginny dared not look at him. She pointed the wand at another cupboard and incanted, “Accio glasses”. But instead of just four glasses, at least eight flew out and skimmed across the tabletop. Two overshot the mark, and moving in unison, Harry and Ron caught one each and placed them back with their fellows.

The only sign that Ginny was embarrassed by this tell-tale evidence of her rusty skills was a smudge of pink appearing across her cheeks. But she just handed Harry’s wand back to him, and seated herself. She pulled the cork from the bottle and poured four measures of the potent liquor and distributed them; the four superfluous glasses stood sentinel in the middle of the table. Ron and Hermione followed Ginny’s lead and seated themselves. Harry leaned back against the cabinets with his arms and ankles crossed; his glass remained untouched on the table.

Ron wasted no time in downing his measure of the potent beverage in one swallow. When he opened his eyes after the long slow burn along his gullet subsided, he was looking directly into Ginny's melted chocolate eyes. He stared, trying hard for belligerent, but when her expression didn't alter–it seemed to be somewhere between sadness and regret–he reached for the Firewhisky again and slopped another large measure into his glass.

Hermione's lips tightened. "A fortifying dram might ease the tension, Ron, but getting drunk hardly seems to be the way to–"

"No, Hermione," interrupted Ginny, "If several drams will make him feel better, let him drink." Ginny then picked up her own glass and though it had been her idea, she showed a lot less bravado than her brother as she threw the contents down her throat.

The coughing fit that followed was not unexpected. Hermione bit her lip and Harry straightened up and made an involuntary move to help, but whilst continuing to cough and splutter Ginny held up her hand to indicate that she did not need assistance.

When she finally hauled in a normal, fortifying breath and wiped her streaming eyes with her sleeves, she turned her bleary gaze on Ron again. He too had watched the paroxysm with no small degree of concern, but when he saw that Ginny was fine and that she wasn't backing down, he leaned forward and filled her glass again.

"Maybe we could both do with more than one." After a few seconds, Ginny nodded her agreement but her next sip was much more modest; Ron's too was a little less robust; he only half emptied his glass.

Harry finally crossed to the table and sat. He picked up his own glass of Firewhisky and studied its contents. Hermione followed suit and declaring a silent truce, they toasted each other and half emptied their glasses. The silence stretched, but the overt tension had lessened considerably.

Ginny kept both hands clasped around her glass and her eyes focused on the amber liquid within. The four of them sipped their individual beverages at different speeds, but Ron was the only one who refilled his glass for the third and fourth time, much to Hermione’s irritation.

Everyone remained silent while they waited for Ginny to speak. The only noises were the slosh of liquid into a glass and the muted thunk as glasses were returned to the tabletop.

After finally emptying her glass for the second time Ginny shut her eyes and took a deep breath. "This isn't going to be a short story and it’s not going to paint any of us in a good light."

The tips of Ron's ears went red and he raised a ginger eyebrow at this pronouncement, but Ginny raised her small chin pugnaciously and straightened herself determinedly in her chair. "If I’m to get through this, Ron, you have to keep your trap shut.”

Ron leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms; he looked belligerent. The posture and the look pronounced that he was going to take anything Ginny said that might put him in a bad light with the contempt it deserved.

Despite having been as far away from Ron as it was possible to be, Ginny retained vivid images of her brother’s volatile temper and his ability to stick his head in the sand when what he was hearing did not suit him. She had no illusions that this was going to be easy; in fact, she wasn’t sure she could go through with her plan to make a clean breast of things.

Don’t break down, don’t break down.

Harry saw Ginny swallow deeply before biting her bottom lip. His brow furrowed; perhaps this was going to be too difficult for her. Hermione obviously thought so too, because after shooting a dirty look at Ron–for she was under no illusions that it was his attitude that was holding Ginny back–she reached across and rubbed the younger girl’s back.

"We're all here for you Ginny," she said gently.

Ginny turned anguished eyes towards Hermione. "But that's just it, Hermione, part of the reason for what happened was because you weren't there for me that last year at school." Her eyes moved to Harry and then to Ron, and she dashed incipient tears away angrily. "None of you were."

Ron's face took on a mottled hue and he leaned forward aggressively. "If you're going to sit there and put the blame for your..."

"Shut up, Ron." The words were said quietly but the threat behind them was unmistakable. Harry's green eyes never left Ginny and he nodded to indicate that she continue. Ron made an indistinct choking noise but with Hermione's glare reinforcing Harry's quiet command, he subsided resentfully, picking up his glass and throwing the remaining contents down his throat before defiantly pouring another, overly large shot.

Ginny tried to ignore Ron as she began to speak; needing something to do with her hands, she reached back and gathered her slightly dishevelled locks together and twisted them a couple of times before letting the length fall down her back.

Her voice was shaky at first, but as she got into her stride–this story was definitely ready to be told–she became surer and her words flowed more easily.

Harry didn't realise how tense he was until his jaw started to ache because he had been biting his back teeth together so hard. He had been waiting months to find out what had happened to the woman he had come to love, but now the time was here, he wasn't sure he was ready for revelations that were going to depict him in a bad light. And he knew that was what he was going to hear.

Hermione looked as if she too was expecting the worst, but Ron's tight expression showed that though he was being forced to listen, he was damned if he would accept any culpability for whatever had happened all those years ago to make his sister take the drastic (and in his opinion, unforgivable) step she had done.

HPGW

"That year started great," said Ginny quietly. "Dumbledore brought Harry to us really early in the holidays and things were great at home. Maybe it was because Fred and George were away at work most of the time, but you guys let me hang around with you...well, when I wasn't doing the stuff Mum insisted I do, regardless of the fact that you, Ron, were totally able to do your own thing."

Ron’s lips compressed, but a sideways glance at Harry and Hermione reminded him to keep them buttoned.

Ginny took a small sip of her whisky. "Anyway, we all seemed to enjoy the summer. But then we went to Diagon Alley and things changed."

"Changed how?" asked Hermione in a timid voice.

Ginny shrugged. "Harry was totally preoccupied with something to do...to do with Draco Malfoy and you two..." she indicated Ron and Hermione with an inclination of her head, "kept on ganging up and disagreeing with him and more or less telling him he was deluded."

The three friends looked at each other. Harry's face was neutral but Hermione's face was flaming. Ron quickly looked down at his hands where they were fastened around his glass; he didn't want to remember that time and how wrong he and Hermione had been, how deluded they had thought Harry at the time, only to see all his theories come to pass."

"Anyway, most of the fun had gone out of the holidays and I found myself mostly isolated again; just like it always was whenever the three of you were together."

"I would have thought that you'd have been busy writing love letters to your current fling," bit out Ron nastily, his shamefacedness of several seconds before forgotten. "Dean Thomas, wasn't it?"

Ginny gritted her teeth but she managed to answer in a neutral tone. "Even your memory isn’t that feeble, Ron,” said Ginny with spirit. “You know very well it was Dean and yes, my correspondence did increase a bit for a short time, but it turned out writing to Dean was mostly a one-way exercise that began to pall pretty quickly. So much for our so-called relationship."

Ron snorted. "So-called! There was nothing so-called about you and Thomas snogging whenever you got the chance once we were back at school."

"Ron!” snapped Hermione.

"My opportunities were nowhere near as frequent as the actuality of your snogging sessions with one Lavender Brown, brother mine," taunted Ginny, but when Ron's colour rose alarmingly again, she banged her hand down on the table and any rejoinder was forestalled. "We'll be here till next Christmas if you don't let me get on with this story."

Ron sat back, crossed his arms and put one trainer-shod foot on the opposite knee. "Go ahead. Never let it be said that I’d interrupt the telling of a good fairytale."

Ginny made an obvious effort to calm herself; she had known this would be an Herculean task. It would be so easy just to get up, disappear up the stairs and crawl into bed. Oh, so easy. But she would still be in limbo and that was no longer an option. Oh yes, she knew she had Harry, and that was a gift, and more than she had ever expected, but she also needed her family.

After all these years, she needed her family.

She had made one huge mistake nearly four years ago and she wasn't about to compound that by letting Ron get to her so that she threw everything away again.

"Go on, Ginny," urged Hermione in a soothing voice. "Ignore this idiot!" She glared at Ron who scowled back. "You know he's always suffered from foot-in-mouth disease. And he can’t ever admit to being in the wrong."

"Merlin, Hermione!" Ron said through gritted teeth, unfolding himself in a furious movement to spring to his feet and start pacing the floor. The fury and pain that emanated from him were palpable. "I'm not the one who ran away and left the whole bloody family to grieve, thinking that somehow she’d been taken from the train and killed on the way home from school. How can there be any excuse for that?!"

"There isn't any excuse," Ginny shot back. "And I have to live with my actions for the rest of my life. Four years ago, I set myself on a course that ruined my life and left my family bereft and I have to explain. I know you’ll probably still hate me and never want anything to do with me, but please listen to me."

Ron walked across to the window and stared out into the small back garden. He focused on the play equipment, and after a fraught minute, he rubbed his whiskery jaw viciously and nodded without turning around.

Suddenly exhausted, Ginny put an elbow on the table and rested her forehead on her hand. Her voice was a monotone as she recommenced her story.

GWHP

"Things seemed OK for a while once we were back at school. Dean was fun...we had fun..." She watched Ron's shoulders hunch and hurried on. "It wasn't all snogging, Ron, believe me. I...I didn't really like it all that much to be totally honest but he was supposed to be my boyfriend.

"Then the Quidditch season started and it was obvious you didn't want me on the team." Ginny was addressing Ron's back; it was as though Harry and Hermione weren't even in the room anymore.

"But I won a spot as a Chaser and then Katy Bell was cursed and Dean got on the team by default and things just went from bad to worse. You were always in a foul mood, Hermione walked around like a lost sheep unless she was with Harry. And Harry, more often than not, had his head totally in the clouds.

"Lavender became attached to you at the lips and Dean wanted to compete with your performances, but by then, I knew my relationship with him was not what I wanted." Silence fell again and Harry took a sip of his Firewhisky. His movement attracted Ginny's attention and she gazed at him with an expression of utter misery.

She swallowed. "The reason Dean didn't do it for me was because I cared deeply for someone else and he didn't seem to know I existed." Hermione looked from Ginny to Harry and back again and put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh, Ginny," she whispered, her voice stricken. Ron’s gaze moved between his wife and sister, his brow contracted slightly.

"Are you saying you still cared for Harry after all that time; that the little girl crush had turned into real–err–“ Hermione floundered a bit–“romantic love?”

Ginny nodded a little self-consciously and she looked away from Harry in embarrassment. But Harry had shut his eyes. She had wanted him at a time when girls didn't even register on his radar, even his foolish interlude with Cho had receded to the dark recesses of his mind. He had since tried to block out most of his sixth year at school, so horrendous had most of it been. His focus hadn't been romance, but Draco Malfoy, Tom Riddle, Dumbledore and Horcruxes. Even Quidditch had taken a back seat despite the fact he had been captain of Gryffindor.

Now, he wanted her...loved her and she was only accepting him because she it was the easiest option if she wanted to return to her family and a normal, magical life.

Harry came back to the present when Ron began stalking back and forth again, his shoulders hunched up around his ears. Hermione's, "Ron, calm down," seemed to go unheard.

Suddenly Ron stopped directly opposite his sister. His colour was still high, but when he spoke, he didn't yell, though it was obvious he was making a huge effort to keep the volume at a normal level.

He levelled a shaking finger at Ginny. "Then how," he asked in a low voice, “if you supposedly cared for a totally oblivious Harry and were actually in a relationship with Dean Thomas,–how in the hell did you end up giving birth to Malfoy's kid?"

"Her name is Bonnie," bit out Ginny furiously and she smacked Ron’s hand away from her face.

"And," added Harry, his voice deadly, and his green eyes glacial as he glared at Ron, "She's Ginny's child, and as soon as we're married, she'll be mine as well because I'm going to adopt her."

TBC...

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