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SIYE Time:11:50 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: 63594; Chapter Total: 3620
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Ginny finally manages, despite more provocation, to tell the rest of her story




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Chapter 12

Ron goggled at Harry, but Hermione didn't look as gobsmacked by this announcement as she should have; she was studying her entwined fingers where they rested on the tabletop. Ron turned his shocked countenance on his wife. "You knew?" he said in an accusatory tone.

"I only found out up in the bedroom," she said, somewhat guiltily, unable to look her husband directly in the eye; her fingers still held her attention. "After Ginny began to settle down, she told me that Harry had asked her to marry him."

"And you didn't think that was important enough to tell me?" He said through gritted teeth.

"There's hardly been time, Ron," retorted Hermione angrily.

"And what makes you think you should have the right to know anything regarding my future, Ron?" snapped Ginny. "This is nobody's business but Harry's and mine."

"Like hell!" growled Ron.

Ginny stood up and leaned her hands on the table, her furious and determined face close to her brother's. "Get this straight, Ron. I am marrying Harry whether you like it or not. Now, I would hate for you to decide that you’re going to cut your nose off to spite your ugly face and wipe your best friend out of your life like you have me..." Her voice broke, and swallowing audibly, she drew herself up and crossed her arms tightly over her chest. Ron glared at her set face but he was obviously uncomfortable with her words because he squirmed uncomfortably in his seat.

Harry had wisely remained silent during this confrontation, but he was internally rejoicing that Ginny was talking openly about marrying him.

When Ginny finally got her voice under control again, she continued. "And as it's obvious that you're not going to listen to anything I have to say without prejudice, I'm not going to waste my breath telling you anything more. So I'll leave as my presence seems to be a catalyst for raising your blood pressure to dangerous levels. And though I'm sure your wife is thoroughly disgusted with you–at least I hope she is–I’m pretty sure she wouldn't be happy if you had a stroke."

And with that, Ginny turned on her heel and left the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, "Perhaps I'll see you around some time, Ron..." She had rounded the corner in the stairwell when her voice floated back to them. "But not if I see you first."

Ron sat in stunned silence, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the stairwell. Hermione and Harry both glared at him, Harry with dark anger and Hermione with hard-eyed disapproval.

Hermione stood and rounded the table, fury emanating from her in waves. "I'm off, Harry. But I'll see you soon..." she turned and glared at Ron before returning her attention to Harry. "But be assured I won’t have this buffoon in tow.

"He might want to write you out of his life, but I'm not going to lose my best friend, nor my sister in law, all over again." She kissed Harry on the top of his head and headed for the stairs. Two steps up she stopped and turned back, a dark figure in the deep shadow of the narrow stairwell.

"And I want to be there when the two of you get married."

"Hermione!" squawked Ron in disbelief.

"I do not have anything to say to you, Ronald Bilius Weasley. Not now, not tonight. Perhaps not for several days in fact."

Ron spluttered, "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"I'm going to say goodbye to Ginny, and then I'll be going to my parents for however long it takes me to decide that I wish to converse with you again." And with that parting promise, she was gone. Once again Ron was staring blankly at empty space, his mouth hanging open.

After a few seconds of silence, he rounded on Harry. "This is all your bloody fault," he snarled.

Harry slowly got to his feet. "No, mate," he said, shaking his head. "This could have gone smoothly. You could have welcomed Ginny back with open arms and you could have listened to her story. Instead, you got on your high horse, and that horse shat all over everything."

Ron sneered. "I suppose you welcomed her back with a little more than open arms–"

Before Harry's brain could catch up with his instincts and before Ron realised he was in danger, he was flat on his back on the floor and Harry was standing over him rubbing the knuckles of his right hand."

"Get out!" said Harry in a deadly voice. "Go home and don’t come back until you’ve taken a long, hard look at yourself, Ron."

A totally floored (in more than one sense of the word) Ron shakily raised himself on one elbow trying to staunch the flow of blood with his sleeve while grappling in his jeans to try and pull a handkerchief from his pocket. Harry watched this performance dispassionately and when Ron eventually succeeded, his old wind-cheater was a mess. Even his jeans had blood on them, not to mention his hands and face were covered in it. Suddenly, in the face of the damage he had inflicted, Harry felt his fury ebb away leaving him deflated and depressed; for Ginny's sake, he had so wanted today to be a new beginning.

He had to get away in case the fury came back; and if he had to keep looking at Ron, or replayed in his mind what Ron had inferred, then it just might. But before he left, he said in flat tones, "And if you mention Ginny's return to the family before she's ready, a bloody nose will be the least of your problems."

Harry moved towards the stairs, but before he reached them, Ron spoke in a muffled, nasal voice. "Tell me how I can listen to any of what she has to say without losing it, Harry. Tell me."

Harry turned back. He should leave. Why didn't he just walk out and let the idiot stew in his own juices? Would anything he said enable volatile Ron to be able to listen calmly and objectively to what Ginny had to say? Harry sighed and leaned back against the wall. "It’s easy, Ron. Just ask yourself two very important questions." His voice was flat, devoid of emotion; almost as if he knew he was wasting his breath trying to give Ron any advice at all.

Ron staggered to his feet and fumbled for a chair; Harry was shocked (and grateful) that he had not jumped up with his fists flying. But Ron had other concerns: his nose was still pouring blood. Once seated, he put his head back but that just made him start to choke as the blood flowed down the back of his throat.

Harry couldn't stand it any longer; he reached into his pocket for his wand, and striding to where Ron languished, he forced his hand away from his face and pointed the wand at the red and swollen blob of flesh that used to be a perfectly good nose, and which Harry assumed was now broken. He murmured, "Episkey" and ignoring Ron's obvious discomfort and the horrible grating sound as the bone and cartilage realigned, he set about thoroughly cleansing the blood from his face, hands and clothing with a non-verbal Tergeo.

Ron grimaced at the sharp lance of pain and then tentatively felt his nose. Finding it perfectly sound, he raised his eyes to look at Harry. But instead of anger or resentment, Harry thought he saw shame and acceptance of his culpability and its consequent punishment. When Harry's eyes remained hard and brilliant as emeralds, Ron lowered his head and began to pick a spot of blood that Harry's spell had missed, out from under a nail. "Thanks," he mumbled.

"What for?" asked Harry dispassionately, "the punch, or the first aid?"

Ron looked up again, and finally said in a voice that was as defeated as it was lacking in volume. "Both, I guess."

Harry sighed and shook his head, seemingly at a loss as to what to do with the idiot seated before him. "You Ron, are your own worst enemy," he said in exasperated tones.

He dropped into a chair and reached for the nearly empty bottle of Firewhisky; wrapping his wand-hand around the bottle, dark amber liquid gurgled upwards, refilling the bottle again. Ron watched with the air of someone who had seen many similar feats of magic, and when Harry poured two glasses and passed one to Ron, he fiddled with the glass for a moment before picking it up and taking a long swallow.

Both young men sat in silence, Harry staring at Ron and Ron staring into his glass. “What did you mean?" asked Ron out of the blue.

Harry’s eyebrows knitted together. “What do you mean, what did I mean?

“What are the two pertinent questions I need to ask myself?” Ron mumbled. Harry sat back and placed one ankle over the other knee. When the silence continued, Ron finally looked up. “Tell me!" he begged. “I have to fix this.”

“Why? Because Hermione is totally pissed with you–to the point of not wanting to be in the same house as you, or because you’re really sorry about how you treated Ginny?”

Ron looked as if he had just been asked to recite the twelve uses of dragon’s blood.

“Bzzz! Too late.”

Ron’s eyes widened. “What do you mean, too late?”

“I mean you shouldn’t have had to think about the bloody answer, Ron!”

“Merlin, Harry. You’re being a bit harsh. This has all been a friggin’ shock. It isn’t easy for me.”

Harry leaned forward and jabbed a finger in Ron's direction. ‘And you think it’s easy for Ginny? She was willing to bare her soul to you...to us. But it was mostly for you...”

Ron was shaking his head before Harry had finished speaking. “No, Harry. There is a difference?”

Harry raised his eyebrows sceptically.

“Yeah,” said Ron, grabbing the bottle again and filling his glass with more liquid courage. Without asking, he slopped more into Harry’s glass as well. “Ginny knew what was going to happen today; she knew I was coming and she knew what she was going to say. But her appearance was a monumental shock for me."

“Sounds like justification for the way you treated her to me, Ron.” Ron shook his head again, but Harry didn’t let him talk. “Yeah, she knew you were coming, but she couldn’t have known–or perhaps she did know, but she would have been hoping–that you weren’t going to treat her like a total...like a bloody prostitute!”

Ron’s stared, shocked. Put like that... He shut his eyes and his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Then he began to shake his head as though he could not believe he had done any such thing, hoping the gesture would somehow alleviate some of the guilt Harry was heaping on him.

But Harry nodded with grim condemnation. “It's no use denying it; you know it's true. You hadn’t even heard what she had to say and you were already condemning her, automatically making her the guilty party in any scenario she may have presented.

Ron’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down and he shook his head again. But the gesture was full of doubt. “I never,” he croaked, knowing full well he had done just that.

“Yes, Ron, you bloody did!"

Ron emptied the contents of his glass down his gullet and immediately poured another. He sloshed an equal measure into Harry’s glass and onto the table; Ron didn’t even notice that Harry kept touching his wand before wrapping his hand around his glass so that the liquid within disappeared. He would then raised the glass to his lips and pretend to drink.

“It’s Malfoy! The thought of bloody Malfoy touching her...it...it just makes me want to cast the Cruciatus Curse on the bastard.” Harry had no rebuttal for that statement and the two of them sat drinking (or pretending to drink for the next fifteen minutes, their thoughts their own.

Finally Ron spoke again, his voice beginning to slur. “You never told me what the two questions are.”

Harry pretended to have to think carefully. Ron watched his friend with one eye closed–he could focus better that way–as Harry made it look as if the gears were slowly engaging. He held up one finger, but he pretended he needed to rest his elbow on the table to support his arm. Number one: are you glad she’s alive?”

Ron goggled. “What kind of a bloody stupid question is that?”

“Then why did you attack her like you did?” Ron’s answer was to knock back another slug, but his eyes, now barely focused, were beginning to look a little moist. He ran a long finger under his nose and sniffed noisily.

“A...and number two?” asked Ron after pondering Harry's accusation for a minute. He held up one finger in case Harry was too far gone to know what question he wanted answered; his words were now barely intelligible, and he really did have to rest his elbow on the table to support his forearm.

Harry stared hard at Ron, but it was all Ron could now do to keep his head up and his eyes open. “Number two, Ron? Number two is... do you love your sister?”

Ron jerked his head up, his eyes opening wide. But when he opened his mouth to answer, the words wouldn’t form properly. He tried for several seconds until he finally burst out.“Of courshe I bloody love her.” Tears filled his eyes and he sniffed and swiped at his nose again. “I bl-bloody m-mourned her, Harry. She’sh my l-little shi-sishter."

He stared at Harry, tears streaming down his face. "I-I jus' c-can't be-believe she'sh here," he wailed. "My little sishter ishn't dead." And with that, Ron plonked his leaden arms on the table–knocking his half empty glass to the floor in the process–and lowered his head onto his arms and sobbed.

Harry watched with a lump in his throat; this was real distress; this was a brother who had finally realised that his sister had been returned to him. Oh, yeah, sure he was pissed out of his gourd, but Harry knew these emotions were real. Not just the maudlin sentiments of a man well into his cups. Besides, as a general rule, when Ron got drunk he began laughing hysterically over nothing.

Harry left Ron where he was and set about cleaning up the bomb site that was his kitchen: he directed dirty glasses into the dishwasher, the clean glasses back into the cupboard, and he Scourgified the tabletop and the floor, where there was not just spilt Firewhisky, but also blood that he had missed. Darcy and Delilah watched the activity sleepily from their perch. It had been far from easy to sleep today.

While Harry worked, Ron's sobs had slowly wound down, and when the kitchen was back to its usual pristine state, Ron was asleep and snoring quietly. Harry stood and observed him for a minute before making up his mind. There were four flights of stairs up to Ron and Hermione's old room, and even levitating him that far would be an effort. So Harry did what he had done with Bonnie and Disapparated Ron with his wand, then twisting on the spot he followed him so that he could settle him into the big bed comfortably; Ron would definitely be there for the night.

When he had finished, Harry sent his Patronus to Hermione explaining the bare bones of what had happened (though omitting how he had punched Ron in the nose) and telling her where Ron was spending the night.

As Harry was conjuring a bucket and putting it in a strategic position beside the bed, the anticipated otter appeared in front of him and said in Hermione's voice, "thanks for looking after the idiot," and then she followed up with, "let him suffer in the morning." Harry grinned. She really knew how to hurt a guy.

HPGW

Aft er Ron was settled, Harry went to Ginny's room and told her that her brother was still in the house but would be well out of it for the rest of the day. She hadn't looked too happy, but was determined to go on as normal and after Harry had woken Bonnie from her sleep and the little girl seemed to be much as she ever was, they had returned to the kitchen and prepared supper together. Bonnie kept herself occupied by doing some crafty work at her little table tucked in a corner of the large kitchen. As long as her mother and Harry were in sight, she appeared happy, but Ginny caught her casting surreptitious glances at the stairs once in a while.

By unspoken agreement, Harry and Ginny didn't speak of the disastrous events of the day, but Harry could see Ginny was miserable that things had turned out the way they had. At one stage, she had opened the fridge and been confronted with the leg of pork, taking up pride of place on a shelf. Her face went blank and she retrieved what she wanted and firmly shut the door. While she poured Bonnie a glass of milk, she asked Harry if he would get rid of the meat as the smell of it made her nauseated.

Harry nodded, but he waited till after supper, when Ginny and Bonnie had disappeared up the stairs, before removing the pork and banishing it. He somehow got the feeling that pork would never again be on the menu in the Potter household.

Harry had hoped that Ginny would want to talk about their upcoming marriage, but when he knocked on her door, she explained that the events of the day had exhausted her and she had decided on an early night with Bonnie, though she was afraid that Bonnie might not want to sleep for hours yet. Harry explained that by all appearances she had been asleep, but her body rhythm would have been functioning as normal while she was under the spell and that she would be ready for bed at her normal time.

After giving Bonnie a goodnight kiss and cuddle, Harry left the room disappointed, but as he was closing the door, Ginny pulled it open again. She had already thanked Harry for his support that day but now, to his delighted surprise, she cupped his face, and standing on tiptoe, had kissed him quite thoroughly on the mouth.

Harry's face was adorned with a big grin that he could not shift and after checking that Ron hadn't chocked on his own vomit, Harry had gone to bed happier than he had been for a long time, despite the less-than-spectacular outcome to the day.

It was enough to be going on with.

Unbeknownst to him, and despite how the plans for the day had gone down the toilet, Ginny too, went to sleep smiling.

HPGW

W hen Harry appeared in the kitchen the next morning, Ginny was drinking a cup of tea and reading a book, and Bonnie was dipping a toast soldier into a soft boiled egg, being very careful not to get any yolk on her fingers. They both looked up at his appearance; Bonnie beamed at him, and while Ginny's smile was much more circumspect, it was, nonetheless, a happy smile.

Harry descended on Bonnie and blurted a kiss on the side of her neck which sent the little girl into a fit of the giggles, causing a dollop of egg yolk to drop onto the tabletop. Before she could become upset by her clumsiness which she was wont to do when she was eating, Harry swiped a finger though the runny yellow spill and popped it in his mouth. He closed his eyes in ecstasy and rubbed his stomach, making appreciative yum yum noises. Bonnie giggled again, and she dipped her soldier back into the nearly denuded eggshell and held the offering up to Harry.

Harry swooped on it and took a big bite, leaving just remnants of crumbs between Bonnie's fingertips, and causing her to squeal with delight, especially when Harry said in a serious voice that he thought he might have swallowed a bit of finger.

It took a while for the giggles to subside, but Ginny was finally able to ask Harry if he would like some breakfast and when Bonnie chimed in and yelled, "soldiers and dippy egg", Harry succumbed to persuasion.

Ginny smirked. “Are you sure you wouldn't appreciate something a little more grown up?"

Harry contrived to look offended. "I love soldiers and dippy egg," he said with a conviction that made Ginny laugh and Bonnie giggle with delight again.

Harry boiled the kettle and make a fresh pot of tea while Ginny concentrated on lowering two eggs into a pot of boiling water. She was very aware of Harry standing near her. "How do you feel today?" he asked quietly. "Did you sleep well?"

Ginny nodded and busied herself with the toaster. "I'm fine, and I slept the night away. Madam over there," she gestured with her head at Bonnie who was finishing off her toast, "was awake at six, so a sleep-in was out of the question."

"So what have you been up to if you're just finishing breakfast now?" asked Harry as he retrieved Ginny's cup and made her a fresh cup of tea along with his own.

"She crawled into bed with me and I read to her for the next hour and a half–well , I actually read to her for only twenty minutes and then she went and got her own book because the one I'm reading began to pall for her after that."

"And what were you reading that bored her. She'll usually listen, no matter what is read to her." It was true; Bonnie was perfectly content just to listen to Ginny or Harry's voice; the content of the book was secondary.

Ginny gestured with her spoon towards the book lying face down on the table and Harry wandered across and picked it up while sipping his tea. His eyebrows rose in surprise but then a big grin spread across his face. "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 5", he recited. "Gin, this is brilliant."

Ginny reddened in the face of Harry's enthusiasm. "Well, after yesterday's less than stellar performance, I thought I'd better start boning up on my spell work."

Harry carried the plates of toast and eggs to the table and when they had both seated themselves and Harry was liberally spreading butter, he said, "I think what you achieved yesterday was amazing. You hadn't handled a wand for nearly four years, except for that Summoning Charm you performed above the garage. And the wand wasn't even yours."

"Ginny blushed again. "Well I can only hope that going through the old text book and getting my own wand back will put me back on an uphill trajectory."

Harry's brow furrowed. "Don't you mean getting a new wand?"

Ginny shook her head and glanced across to where Bonnie was sticking stickers into an enormous scrap book Harry had bought for her so that she could create elaborate works of art in their multitudes. "No, Harry, I mean my wand.

"But you told me you got rid of your wand," said Harry, his toast soldier with its egg yolk coating dripping steadily onto his plate.

"I did say that, yes, but I didn't say I had destroyed it." Harry stared at her. " I hid it and I know exactly where it is."

"But if that's the case, why haven't you told me before now? I could have gone and retrieved it for you at any time."

Ginny looked into her cup of tea as if she might find the answer in there. "I wasn't ready, Harry. Holding your wand back in the flat and performing that Summoning Charm...well, it just didn't feel right. It felt so foreign, almost as if I had never held a wand before. And you have to admit my effort was pretty lousy."

"But there was nothing to summon except that little finger-puppet," Harry pointed out logically.

"How do you know? Perhaps there was something else there that resisted the charm."

Harry shook his head and as Bonnie rushed over just then, he automatically lifted her onto his knee, where she proceeded, as both adults had predicted, to dip soldiers into Harry's egg and feed them to him, withholding an occasional portion for herself. Talking was out of the question for a few minutes, but eventually, Bonnie became caught up in making a mess while trying to spread some jam onto a soldier.

Harry took up the conversation where they had left off. "If there had been anything else to summon in that room, it would have come to you."

Ginny looked doubtful but Harry continued. "You're magical Ginny, quite powerful if my memory serves me correctly, and your magic, combined with my wand would have summoned anything that wasn't nailed down if you had wanted it to come to you."

Bonnie was now trying to force-feed Harry a soldier coated in egg and blackberry jam. He looked quite nauseated, and glowering at a grinning Ginny who found the whole performance hilarious, he took as tiny a bite of the gastronomic obscenity as he could. Trying not to retch, he made a performance of enjoying the offering as if it had been the nectar of the God's. Finally, it appeared as if Bonnie thought he had consumed sufficient to fill him and he could drink some tea. With great care, he picked up his cup and manoeuvred it so that he could drink without Bonnie being in danger of knocking it.

"So,” he finally said when Bonnie finally went back to her crafts, what's changed now?"

Ginny shrugged. "I'm not a hundred percent sure. But yesterday, the spell came more easily and much more readily to my lips and even though the execution left a lot to be desired, I felt more in control...it was more natural. I feel like I might be ready to do more than just live in a magical house."

Harry looked triumphant, and Ginny continued. "Perhaps that's what it is. Being back in the magical world, being surrounded by magic again, instead of having been isolated from it for so long." She shrugged and put her cup into its saucer. Holding it by the rim, she turned it back and forth in little half circles.

"I never realised just how much I missed it." She looked at Harry, and he stared back intently. "I have you to thank for bringing me home; for bringing me back to my heritage and enabling me to bring my daughter up in the world she belongs in.

"I resisted you at every turn. I was horrible to you, and all you were trying to do–are still doing–was help me."

Harry and Ginny gazed at each other for several intense seconds; Harry wanted, in turns, to kiss her on her delectable lips, and to bring up the subject of their wedding–especially after that impassioned speech–but before he could open his mouth, Ron, wearing his trainers unlaced, slid down the last couple of steps, managing somehow not to fall on his butt. He groaned as he put one unsteady hand out to support himself against the wall and the other up to his head. Ginny's expression closed and before anyone could speak, Bonnie screamed and launched herself across the room and buried her head in her mother's lap, the grip from her little hands so convulsive, she pinched the tender flesh of Ginny's flanks through her thick jumper.

Her face contorted with pain, Ginny managed to shoot Ron a filthy glare as she tried to detach the little fingers from where they held on like pincers, and hoist Bonnie into her arms. But the little girl screamed again and refused to release her hold or lift her head.

Ron's pallor intensified as his bleary eyes fixed on the tiny, trembling figure clinging to her mother, too afraid to lift her head and look at the scary man who, just yesterday, had terrified her with his loud voice and aggressive behaviour. While Ginny tried to comfort Bonnie by leaning over her, rubbing her back and whispering endearments and reassurances, Ron looked at Harry and raised his hands in apology and helpless appeal.

Harry just shook his head as if he despaired for Ron. "Way to go, Uncle Ron," he said in, mock-impressed tones. "Definitely an Uncle-of-the-Year Award contender." He stood and rounded the table where he crouched down and placed a gentle hand on the tiny heaving back, adding his reassurances to Ginny's.

Ron looked on guiltily; it seemed as if the kid wasn't going to respond to any encouragement. He was thinking that perhaps he had better leave when Harry, after a whispered comment in the little girl's ear, that it appeared even her mother did not hear, Bonnie finally, reluctantly, relinquished her hold on Ginny and transferred her arms to Harry's neck. Despite the stranglehold that made breathing a little difficult, he hoisted her securely into his arms as he stood, all the while managing to keep her face hidden from Ron.

Harry stepped away from Ginny and when she looked as if she intended to rise to join him, he shook his head. Ginny's forehead furrowed in a thunderous frown, but Harry ignored her anger. "Bonnie and I are going to take a walk in the square," he stated.

"I'll come too," hissed Ginny through gritted teeth.

Harry put a hand on Ginny's shoulder and shook his head again. "No, I think this is the perfect opportunity for you and Ron to talk." Ginny's eyes narrowed to murderous slits and, if possible, Ron looked even sicker. Ginny seriously wanted to get away from her brother, and at the moment, all he wanted was a Hangover Cure Potion.

"I don't think that's a very good idea, Harry." Ginny enunciated each word as though talking to someone very simple. You're likely to come home to utter carnage!" She added; the threat in her voice very real.

Harry turned to Ron. "I won't come home to utter carnage, will I, Ron?" Ron closed his bloodshot eyes and shook his head. The movement was halted before it had barely begun and Ron groaned, his pallor increasing, making his freckles stand out like currants in a Spotted Dick. He was now leaning fully against the corner of the wall where it turned into the stairwell; he had not progressed any further into the kitchen because he was worried he might up-chuck if he moved.

"You mistake me, Harry," enunciated Ginny venomously, as she leapt to her feet. "It'll be your best friend's blood you'll be clearing up, not mine. I might not have a wand to hand, but there are plenty of knives in this kitchen."

She was not going to be ordered about by Harry, regardless of the speech she had spouted just before Ron made his inglorious appearance, about how appallingly she had behaved towards him. She practically ran past Harry, leaving Bonnie to his tender ministrations because she was not going to get into a battle with him in front of her prat of a brother.

Her efforts to get past Ron however, were brought undone when he grabbed her arm before she could ascend the stairs. She looked at his hand and then turned her furious visage upon him. Ron released her so quickly, anyone watching would assume he had been burned. But when, without a word, she turned away to continue on her way, Ron croaked: "Please...Ginny. We have to talk."

Ginny ran halfway up the staircase before she slowed and finally stopped. Her hands clenched at her sides and she stood with her head bowed, her whole posture displaying fury at herself for not being able to resist her brother's entreaty...for not being able to just continue on her way.

"And that's gone bloody brilliantly to plan, so far, hasn't it, Ron?" she said bitterly.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Ron asserted, desperately. "I was totally in the wrong."

Ginny turned: Ron was standing at the base of the stairs, staring up at her. Because he was looking up, his face was in shadow, but she could see that he still looked terrible. She descended one step.

"Yes, you were in the wrong. Yesterday, you were in the wrong." She kept coming until Ron had to retreat to allow her to step back into the kitchen. "Three and a half years ago, I made the biggest mistake of my life, but yesterday, I saw you again, and I thought...no, I hoped...hoped that you might have reverted to the big brother I was always so close to. I needed to get the past off my chest...I finally felt able to do just that. But you were only interested in trying and convicting me without granting me a proper hearing."

Ron swallowed convulsively and Ginny could see his Adam's Apple bob up and down. "I'm ready to listen now. I promise you," he croaked. "It's just...it's Malfoy. I..."

Ginny exploded; she pushed him in the chest with the force of her combined frustration and anger, sending him staggering back. "Then this dissertation is already at an end, Ron!" Her body angled towards him and her clenched fists rested on her hips.

Ron winced and put a hand up to make sure the top of his head was still there. He staggered back another couple of steps and dropped into a chair. "Sorry...sorry!" he groaned, resting his pounding head on the table. A second later, he heard the soft clunk of something being put on the table and a second later, the foul, unmistakeable odour of a Hangover Cure Potion wafted across his olfactory nerve.

He turned his head slightly and opened one bleary eye; Harry had somehow managed to get the bottle from the top cupboard where all the everyday potions were kept, open it and direct it to Ron. Of course he probably hadn't moved, just commanded the elements with his magic...whatever, and regardless of the smell and the foul taste he knew he would be imbibing, Ron silently thanked his friend and downed the potion.

Keeping his head on the table while the potion worked its wonders, Ron distinctly heard Ginny say, "you should have left him to suffer."

"A Firewhisky induced hangover can hardly be conducive to him listening to a frank and open disclosure of what happened to you to cause you to leave, can it?"

Ron knew that Ginny had crossed her arms and was staring at Harry belligerently; he could feel the air crackle around her. "Why should I give him a frank and open anything, except perhaps the palm of my hand across his supercilious face," returned Ginny spitefully.

Ron winced internally. He knew he deserved her censure...and Hermione's, and Harry's; he had been a total twat yesterday. He may have been drunk, but he always remembered what happened when he had tied one on.

If only I could work out a way to avoid feeling like pond scum the next day

.

Now Ron could hear Harry's footsteps heading for the stairs. "Don't cut off your nose to spite your face, Ginny," Harry said, quietly admonishing. "Ron knows you're back. Now he needs to know why you disappeared. And I know you need to get it off your chest. Ron is the first step back into the arms of your family."

More footsteps receding upwards..."You're still leaving?" asked Ginny a little desperately. "You don't know the story either."

"You can tell me anytime." Footsteps descended the stairs again, and then there was the slight rustle of clothing, a tiny exhalation of breath and then...

Ron lifted his head slightly–blessedly , his crown did not try to launch itself into space–and opened eyes that were no longer sensitive to light, and enabled him to view the private moment between his sister and best friend: Harry was holding the back of Ginny's head and was snogging her very enthusiastically (despite the burden of the kid straddling his hip), and Ginny wasn't putting up a fight.

Ron lowered his head again; there were things it was better he didn't see. After several excruciating seconds, he cleared his throat and creaked upright again hoping to cause enough of a distraction to separate the pair. But Harry ignored him and took his time ending the kiss. When he did end it, he rested his forehead against Ginny's and said softly, "I don't care what happened, or who Bonnie's father is; you're here with me now and that's enough for me to be going on with."

Ron had pushed himself to his feet and was noisily involved in coffee preparations. Harry looked at Ron and delivered one last admonition: "remember what we talked about last night, Ron. Don't stuff this up."

GWHP

Ron couldn't believe it, but Harry really did leave; now he was alone with a hostile sister and somehow, he had to make things right with her. At least she hadn't left the kitchen, so perhaps he had a chance. He cleared his throat. "Umm, do you want some coffee?"

Ginny crossed her arms and leaned against the cabinets. "You've really got a lousy memory, haven't you, Ron?"

Ron gazed at his sister, noting for the first time just how thin she was. When he continued to look blank, Ginny added, "I hate coffee, Ron, unless it's a weak cappuccino."

Ron looked down at the jar of instant coffee into which he had begun to insert the spoon. He changed tack and reached for the teapot, but Ginny told him that a teabag would do. When the drinks were made and Ron handed Ginny hers and seated himself at the table, he couldn't think where to start: Ginny wasn't inclined to help him out, and she preferred to remain standing, obviously keeping as much of a distance as she could. They both sipped their drinks in an uncomfortable silence.

Finally, Ron took his courage in hand and asked, "Do you love him?"

Ginny's head snapped up and she stared at her brother. "That," she snapped, "is none of your business."

"You said yesterday that you used to love him. And now you're going to marry him."

"He has given me back my life. And he doesn't give a toss about why I did what I did. Harry doesn't judge me, Ron. He asked me to marry him, because he thinks that if we’re a couple, the family will accept me back more readily." She put her mug down with a loud thump. "What do you think, Ron?"

Ron opened his mouth, but words failed him.

"So, you don't think that my marrying Harry and him legitimising my daughter's existence will appease the Weasleys?"

Ginny shook her head. "I don't know why I'm bothering, really. But it's important to Harry that the Weasleys become a cohesive unit again. He just won't get it through his head though, that Mum and I were never what could be called, 'cohesive'." Ginny wiggled the first and second fingers of both hands in midair to emphasise the adjective.

Ron sighed. "Ginny, I swear I never realised just how tense things were between you and Mum." Ginny narrowed her eyes in disbelief.

"I promise you, I didn't," he reiterated. "Oh, yeah, she asked me to keep an eye on you during that last year at Hogwarts, but there wasn't quite as much communication going on between us as you seem to think." This time Ginny snorted her disbelief.

"Honestly," he said a little desperately. "Two... three letters tops, for the whole year. You must remember what a crap letter writer I was...still am, come to that." He looked into the murky depths of his coffee before raising despairing eyes to her face. "That whole bloody year was a disaster. The only time I can remember you actually talking kindly to me was when I was poisoned, and that whole episode was pretty vague."

"I might have been furious with you most of the time, Ron, but I didn't want you to die."

"But why wouldn't you talk to me if you were so bloody unhappy," he asked desperately. Ginny laughed derisively. "Talk! Talk, Ron. I couldn’t talk to you; if I did try, you just blew me off! And if you had tried to talk to me at some stage during the year instead of bellowing, or ordering, or–as was most often the case–ignoring me completely, things might have been very different."

Suddenly there were tears in Ginny's eyes. She bit her lip and crossed to the window to stare blindly out into the tiny yard.

Ron ran a hand through his too-long hair, making it stick up in all directions...he could have given Harry a run for his money. "It was a totally shit year," he said. "Quidditch, Lavender, Harry's obsession with the ferret and his bloody Half-Blood Prince, Potions text that practically sent Hermione round the twist..."

"You snogging Lavender at every turn wouldn't have had anything to do with sending Hermione around the twist, I suppose?" said Ginny cattily.

"In retrospect: touché!" muttered Ron. Then he continued with his litany of the horrors of his 6th year at school, the worst of which, until her disappearance, had been his own brush with death and then Dumbledore's actual death.

The reminder of the horror end to her fifth year at school took the wind out of Ginny's sails: there was nothing snarky she could say, nor indeed, wanted to say. Dumbledore's death had made her own situation pale into insignificance, but at the same time, it had made everything that much harder to bear. The old wizard was the glue that seemed to bind the good and decent people of the Wizarding World together...not the corrupt Ministry, nor even the Minister for Magic at the time. Her leaving had just been an extension of the nightmare that magical Britain found itself in after there was no longer an Albus Dumbledore to guide them through the mire.

She later found out dribs and drabs of the Harry Potter legend from Faith: that the young man she loved had been the one whose shoulders had to bear the collective hopes and dreams of the anti-Voldemort faction...the one all were determined to call 'Saviour'. A truly daunting responsibility for a seventeen year old.

And now this same young man–only slightly older–was the saviour of her and her daughter.

"Ginny?"

Ginny snapped out of her introspection; it seemed Ron had been trying to gain her attention for a while. When he had it, he pushed the chair opposite him out with his foot. "Come and sit down and tell me your story," he said.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Are you sure you can stand to listen, Ron? The name 'Malfoy' will feature in the narrative."

"I promise to do my utmost not to repeat yesterday's performance; I want to hear what happened, and, like Harry, I think you need to get it off your chest."

They held each other's gazes for a minute and then Ginny, finally sensing that this Ron had now had time to come to terms with her return from the dead and was ready to listen, crossed the room and slipped into the chair opposite him.

HPGW

Ginny didn't quite know where to start, now that she had the floor, but finally she leaned back in her chair with the air of someone who was finished dissembling. She reluctantly began to talk, her voice unsteady but gradually becoming firmer as she got into story-telling mode.

"My–shall we say–liaison with Malfoy came about as a result of my loneliness and sense of abandonment, combined with Malfoy's cunning and desire to do anything to piss you off. Especially you Ron."

"Malfoy breathing pissed me off," muttered Ron darkly, but when he saw Ginny's lips thin, he shut his mouth firmly.

"Exactly," said Ginny. "So, he had the inside edge right from the start because your hatred of him made you blindingly angry and gave him the clear-headed advantage."

"But how did you ever take up with him in the first place?" burst out Ron with quiet desperation, unable to keep his mouth shut, needing to understand how his little Gryffindor sister, a part of the biggest blood-traitor family in Wizarding Britain at the time, had taken up with a Slytherin whose father was a Death Eater, and, unbeknownst to anyone else at the time–except for Harry with his freaky sixth sense–was a Death Eater himself.

But Ginny didn't go off the deep end and tell him to shut it; she just sighed and looked even more miserable. "It's pathetic, I know it is; I knew it back then, but the more the three of you immersed yourselves in your little enclave of secrecy and especially as Harry became even more distant, I began to feel really angry... as if I didn’t exist to you three. And that hurt, Ron.

"And after having been included in your super-cool gang..." again, the fingers made air quotation marks, "during the holidays, the three of you totally ignored me after our trip to Diagon Alley. I don’t really entirely blame Hermione, who might have taken notice of me because you were out of the picture for a few months, was so blinded by jealousy over you and worry over Harry, the rest of the world hardly existed for her...well except for her books and schoolwork of course. That hurt more than Harry's total indifference because up till my fifth year, Hermione and I were really good friends.

"The girls in my year were so immature; all they could talk about were boys and music, hair and makeup...so not my scene. Luna was the only tolerable one, but you have to admit that a little Luna goes a very long way...

"Amen to that," agreed Ron.

"...and anyway, she was essentially a loner; I presume she’s still the same."

Ron nodded. He didn't like hearing how self obsessed he had been back then (he never liked being reminded of the 'Lavender months', when he had been slave to his hormones and what little sense he may have possessed had taken up residence in his dick). Ginny's obvious unhappiness hadn't even registered with him; he had thought her content in her relationship with Dean. Clearly not...she had been pining after Harry.

Ron was listening even though his thoughts whirled; Ginny was still talking, but was now unable to meet his eye; she was drawing patterns with her finger in the toast crumbs on a discarded plate.

"I don't know why Malfoy decided to target me, but he did, and he guessed that I was feeling peeved with the three of you...well, I don't suppose too much guesswork was necessary; I had broken up with Dean and I never exchanged a word with the three of you, nor any of you with me. I must have looked totally miserable all the time; the girls in my dorm even commented on it.

"One day when I was leaving the Great Hall, Malfoy was leaving at the same time; he stood back to let me go through the door first, forcing those oaf bodyguards of his aside as well, and...well, he smiled at me.

"There was no, 'out of my way, Weaslette', which was the sort of thing he usually said to me." Ron looked as if he might vomit, but he managed to control himself, as well as desist from making a scathing comment.

If Ginny was aware of his internal battle, she chose not to comment. "After that, we seemed to bump into each other much more frequently than I could ever remember doing before and his supercilious airs and graces seemed to have vanished; he usually smiled or nodded at me. How thick was I..."

Ron's face had become a blank mask and his arms were loosely crossed over his chest; he was trying to look unaffected by his sister's hateful words, but he was only managing to look constipated.

"At first, it freaked me out, but then one day, Harry walked straight past me without any kind of acknowledgement at all, and Draco was there. And even though Harry gave him a scathing look for what seemed no reason at all, Draco just smiled at me sympathetically, as if he knew how upset I was, and I found myself smiling back."

It seemed as if Ginny's fountain of words was in danger of drying up; she grabbed her empty cup and began to turn it between her fingers. She had come too far to stop now, but when she did continue, it was in a much quieter voice.

"He told me that Potter was a bloody idiot if he couldn't see what was right under his nose. Then he walked off to his next class. After that, I suppose because I was feeling so aggrieved, I occasionally responded when he spoke to me, and eventually, when I found myself in his company, I stopped scurrying off."

This was more than Ron seemed to be able to tolerate for the moment. He shoved his chair back and crossed to the window where he stood looking out, his back rigid. But Ginny was on a roll now; she had to keep going or else her courage would dry up, along with the words. So she ignored her brother's obvious distress and continued.

"For a while, it was only chance meetings–or so I thought–in the corridors, and he was always so pleasant, and I know you won't want to hear this Ron, but he was charming and funny and clever..."

Ron's shoulders hunched up somewhere around his ears. "And a skilled conman," he ground out, still staring into space through the window.

Ginny sighed and nodded her bright head. "Yes, and I was a consummate, wilful fool. I blinded myself to those qualities which we knew about and convinced myself that my old attitude to him was entirely based around the unreasonable prejudice the three of you harboured against him, and not on my own observations."

This was too much: Ron spun round and glared at his sister. She would have cringed away from the blazing fury in his eyes, but at the moment, she was too numb, caught up as she was in the past. "But what about the things you did see for yourself, Ginny," he ground out. "The time in Flourish and Blotts when he tried to demean us all...you even stood up to him when he was gunning for Harry, for Merlin's sake! And Lucius Malfoy insulted Dad and started a fight. Like father, like son, I say. And then he planted that damn diary on you. But I suppose, that was Lucius working alone, because no doubt he couldn’t have trusted his braggard of a son not to open his mouth and boast.

” But the crimes against Draco are infinite... there was the time when he humiliated you when you made a Valentine's card for Harry...and...and...the countless times he called Hermione, a ‘mudblood’, and when he tried to make Harry fall off his broom by disguising himself, along with Crabbe and Goyle, as a Dementor... the general cheating at Quidditch...”

Ron dug his fingers into his scalp and pulled his hair as if he was demented; Ginny supposed he was. "Hell, there were so many instances of him being what he really is, I can't even begin to verbalise them; and I'm sure you saw a good proportion of them."

Ginny nodded her head wearily. "Yes, I saw quite a bit and I heard the rest from you three. But I'm not trying to make excuses for him, Ron, I'm just trying to tell you how deluded I was and what happened to make me decide to run."

Ron shook his head and took a deep breath that seemed to come from his trainers; with remarkable control, he walked stiffly back to the table and sat, leaning inelegantly back in his chair. "I've seen the proof of what happened, Ginny," he stated calmly, but now Ginny sprang to her feet and leaned towards him, her hands braced on the table.

"There you go, jumping to conclusions. Just shut up and let me finish!" Ron was so taken aback by the return of Ginny's temper, he did exactly as she asked, though he had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself launching into a further tirade against Malfoy.

Ginny began to pace: the calmness of the last ten minutes was gone and agitation had taken over. "The meetings in the corridors were becoming more frequent and lasting longer as we chatted and laughed together. Even you seeing us often, and becoming apoplectic each time, just added spice to the meetings...remember, I wasn't best pleased with you. And Draco..."

"Stop calling him that!" bellowed Ron, making Ginny jump. "Like he's a friend or something. It's clear you don't have feelings for him anymore, so don't humanise him by calling him, Draco!"

"You're right," said Ginny calmly, and Ron was taken aback by her easy capitulation. She continued as though he hadn't interrupted.

"Malfoy was clever. Even though he could see how furious I was with you, Harry and Hermione, he didn't start insulting you to my face. He knew that it was OK for me to deride you at every turn, but he just listened and changed the subject when I had vented because he knew I wouldn't take anyone else insulting you.

"Anyway, one day I just happened to mention that I was having trouble with an Arithmancy problem, and as he took the subject, he offered to help me. I refused to ask Hermione and so I accepted his offer and we met in the library. After that first time, we met there often."

Ron's face was slowly turning puce, but amazingly, he held his tongue.

"As Hermione frequented the library so much, we had to hide in pretty out of the way corners; we met in sections that I was pretty sure she wouldn't be interested in. The Muggle Studies area was perfect, because after her stint with Muggle Studies in your third year, she pretty much avoided that section of the library."

"She'd probably read every book on the self by then, anyway," opined Ron, and Ginny shared a grin with him... albeit, pretty feeble on both their parts.

Ginny sighed and rubbed the back of her neck. She really wished Harry would come back; she needed his calming presence to be able to tell the rest of it. In lieu of Harry, she could do something, so she went to the fridge and began to pull out the makings for sandwiches; she reasoned that Harry would be hungry when he got back and Ron was always hungry.

Ron watched with a dispassionate eye as she set everything out with military precision, and listened as she resumed her story. "Anyway, he came that first evening and helped me with my Arithmancy. We did our homework together for a while after that first night, but then, inevitably, Hermione did find us, and, of course, reported straight to you."

She turned with a knife in hand to look at him - her face was pale, her freckles standing out across the bridge of her nose. "You remember we had the worst fight? At least you had the good sense to confront me in private, out in the grounds."

"You slapped me across the face.

"You deserved it!" Ginny flung back. "The things you accused me off..."

"Well, in retrospect I wasn't too far off the mark, was I?" bit out Ron. To his horror, tears pooled in Ginny's eyes and began to spill down her cheeks. She turned back to her sandwiches, but she was too distraught to continue. He saw that her shoulders were shaking, though her crying was silent.

Ron was beginning to get a really bad feeling; he needed reinforcements. He wasn't good with teary women. He stood and drew his wand, thought of Hermione in her wedding dress, and silently incanted, "Expecto Patronum."

His Jack Russell Patronus instantly shot from the end of his wand and sat on its haunches, wagging its forked tail and waiting for instructions: within a second, it had disappeared through the ceiling with Ginny being none the wiser that Ron had conjured it.

Under Hermione's patient tutelage, Ron had mostly mastered Non-Verbal spells. He was quite surprised with his success this time though, because if there was one thing that could put him off his game, it was stress; and his stress levels were through the roof. Perhaps he was just getting better with age.

Ginny was still crying and Ron, feeling supremely uncomfortable, rounded the table and approached the shaking form of his sister; he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her awkwardly against his side. That was it for Ginny: she gulped, trying to hold back the sobs, but they couldn't be suppressed. She turned fully into her brother's arms and in a replay of yesterday, she wept against his chest.

"Shhh," he soothed, resting his lips against the top of her head. "Shhh. Gin, you don't have to tell me anymore. I can guess the rest."

Ginny pulled back slightly, her eyes swollen, and her face wet. She began to delve into her sleeve, looking for a hanky or tissue, but came up empty handed. Ron fished in his own pocket; the hanky he produced wasn't, he was relieved to see, too disgusting to hand over, in fact, it was relatively clean.

"What do you think you know, Ron?" she asked, sniffling into the hanky.

Ron led her over to a chair and guided her onto it. He sat down next to her and put his arm around her narrow shoulders. "Gin, I might not be the brightest firework in a Conflagration Deluxe box, but even I know what has to happen to produce a baby.

"Really, Ron," Ginny's voice was muffled through the hanky. She blew her nose and wadded the piece of cotton in her hand. "So, why don't you tell me your version of events."

"Ginny..."

"Tell me!" she yelled, wiggling out from under his arm. But before Ron could open his mouth again, both their attention was diverted when Harry stepped into the kitchen, sans Bonnie. Ginny was instantly on her feet. "Where's Bonnie?" she asked a little hysterically. "And what are you doing back here?"

Harry's eyes flicked to Ron, but he said simply, "it started to rain." Ginny and Ron automatically looked to the window, and sure enough, the rain was pouring down. Both Ginny and Ron thought the weather very strange today: when they had taken it in turns to stand at the window, the sky was bright blue and cloudless.

"So, where's Bonnie?"

"I'm afraid I put her to sleep again. I wasn't sure if you were finished and we'll have to figure out a strategy to get her to accept Uncle Ron." Ron's face reddened.

Ginny moved away from the table and went back to her sandwich-making, her movements jerky and far from coordinated . "Uncle Ron was just going to relate to me what he thinks happened to make me leave the Wizarding World," snapped Ginny. "But he best hurry because he'll have to leave soon as I don't want my daughter to be in another artificial sleep for as long as she was yesterday."

Ron ran his hand through his hair, while Harry went over to help Ginny with her frenetic task. She had nearly made enough to feed a legion.

"Why is Ron telling the story?" asked Harry reasonably.

"Because," bit out Ginny, "he thinks he has it all worked out. He thinks...he thinks I had sex with Malfoy, found out I was pregnant, was afraid to confront my family with such shocking news, and so left everything and everyone I know behind, while I ran away to have a Muggle adventure! Isn’t that right, Ron?"

"Merlin, Ginny," cried Ron in exasperation. "What else am I to think? We fought and you basically told me to get stuffed. Short of locking you up or doing him in–which is something I had considered more than once during our time at Hogwarts–I couldn't stop you from seeing Malfoy." He groaned as the memory of that horrible time in his life really hit home. "How in the name of all that is magical and morally right, could you fall for Draco bloody Malfoy?" he wailed.

"Because I had no one else Ron!" Ginny screeched back. She slammed the knife down and Harry moved it out of harm’s way. Ginny stomped across to stand over Ron, her arms akimbo. "I kept seeing Draco, yes, but part of the attraction was your very decided hostility towards the whole situation.

"I kept seeing him, and I enjoyed his company. After you or Hermione popped up one time too many in the library, we had to sneak around even more. We met in the grounds where there are plenty of places to hide.

“We met most evenings, despite the cold and he was all that a vulnerable teenage witch could hope for in the romance department.

"That's obvious," snarled Ron.

"Nothing's obvious, Ron! That's the whole point of my telling you all of this. If it was obvious, I wouldn't have to tell anything, would I?"

"Sit Ginny! Stop talking in bloody riddles, for Merlin’s sake!"

Harry had kept his counsel and listened to the siblings while piling sandwiches on a platter and placing them in the middle of the table. Now Ron's temper was beginning to fray again. "Ron!" He said in warning tones. "That's enough!"

"So, you want plain speaking, Ron?" asked Ginny in a deceptively mild voice, not acknowledging Harry's intervention on her behalf.

"Merlin, just get on with it. What did he do? Did you tell him about the baby and he gave you your marching orders...

"Has your opinion of me always been so rock-bottom, Ron?"

"Not until you started up with the ferret," returned Ron harshly.

"That's enough, Ron!" ordered Harry darkly. He spoke to Ron, but he was looking at Ginny. Ginny, for her part was pacing back and forth, her face as pale as death, her eyes sparkling with pent up emotion and her hands clenched tightly at her sides. Harry knew something terrible was going to revealed and he knew there was nothing he could do to prevent it being said. He was sure that he was going to hear the reason why he had never pushed Ginny to tell her story; he had always intuited that there was more to tell than the evidence of Bonnie's existence proved.

Ron had no such intuition as he continued to push. "Shit, Harry why won't she just come out and s..."

"He raped me, Ron!"

GWHP

The only noise that pervaded the space were Ginny's soft, agitated footsteps. No words could be produced by Ron because the hinges of his jaw seemed to be stuck in the wide-open position; it also appeared–if his pallor was any indication–that all the blood had rushed from his head, which seemed to have the effect of paralysing his senses as thoroughly as his jaw.

Harry too, was rendered mute, but not through shock; he had been expecting just such a revelation...no, his silence was due to his concern for Ginny. His thoughts of what the younger Ginny had endured at the hands of a young man who had now been proven, even at the tender age of seventeen, to be evil, gripped his mind so thoroughly, he was afraid to give voice to his fury in case he succumbed to the desire to seek out Malfoy–no matter how far he had to go–and exact revenge on Ginny's behalf.

While Harry concentrated on taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself, Ron, instead of trying for the same containment, regained the use of his lungs and limbs: he roared like a wounded hippogriff and leaping to his feet, he began to pace like a madman.

"The bastard!" he bellowed, his face puce.

After jumping with fright at the turbulence created by the sudden and vehement expletive, the air seemed to leak out of Ginny and she sank, boneless, into the chair Ron had just vacated. Harry sat down next to her and cautiously put his arm around her shoulders and drew her against him. While Ron railed up and down the kitchen, Ginny allowed herself to accept Harry's comfort; it was a balm when compared to the wrathful entity that her brother had become.

Though she had never verbalised her horror history to Harry since meeting him again, and despite her original antipathy, she had never had any doubt that he would not shun her. Indeed, if he had presumed, as had Ron (and she was sure, Hermione), that she had been a willing sexual partner with Malfoy, surely he could think no worse of her for knowing the real facts.

After several painful moments of weeping and sniffling and making use of Harry's chest, Ginny stiffened and lifted her head, looking at him with fearful doubt. In the background, Ron continued to pointlessly rant and rave against Malfoy; energy expended, thought Harry with a corner of his mind, on pointless frenzy when comforting his sister would be more to the point.

Harry, his eyes and heart filled with nothing but Ginny, raised his eyebrows at her hesitant expression. He stroked her cheek with a gentle finger. "Don't even think that any blame can be attributed to you for what happened," he said softly.

Ginny gulped back another sob and swiped at her eyes with Ron's damp hanky. "But I was seeing him!" she wailed.

Harry pulled her close again, smoothing her glorious hair with a gentle hand. "Being with a person and enjoying that person's company for whatever period of time, does not give that person the right to demand sex!" said Harry emphatically.

Ginny shook her head a little wildly. "But he never demanded it... sex... He never did. He never even kissed me, not really...not snogging. He'd kiss my hand, or my cheek; he never kissed me on the lips." She huffed out a self-derogatory laugh. "How thick was I? If he had really been interested in me, he would have snogged me."

She raised red, swollen eyes to Harry for confirmation. "I mean, Dean and Michael always wanted to snog...Dean wanted more than snogging." Ginny didn't see Ron's face ranging through the whole gamut of colours he was capable of producing. "I mean, I'm not totally repulsive. Am I?"

Harry shook his head. "You're anything but repulsive, Gin. You're beautiful now and you were beautiful back then."

Ron had stopped his mad pacing to listen to this exchange between his sister and best friend. It made him uncomfortable because it was obvious that Harry really did care for Ginny. So when he spoke, his voice was gruff. "Then if he didn't demand sex, what the bloody hell did he do?"

Harry glared at him, his eyes behind his glasses flashing green sparks. Ron took note of his friends anger and finally bothering to look at his sister curled into Harry's side, he really registered her distress. He sagged as the rage leaked out of him. Expelling a deep breath he moved to the table and carefully pulled out a chair and sat at Ginny's other side.

In a most un-Ron like gesture, he took Ginny's free hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly. "I'm sorry, sis," he said. "I am trying to keep it together.”

Ginny squeezed back weakly. "Not as sorry as I am," she whispered. She sat up and Harry loosened his hold and began to rub a gentle circle on her back. "If I hadn't been so damned headstrong, so determined to do anything that would upset you, and hence, Mum..."

"I never told her," pronounced, Ron. "Not even after you disappeared." Ginny looked at him in amazement. "I didn't see the point in upsetting her and Dad any more than they already were. And as Malfoy had already run off with the Death Eaters well before you were gone, we had no reason to think he could have had anything to do with your vanishing act, at least not directly. You were around right up until we left after Dumbledore's funeral. And even though we had hardly spoken for a couple of weeks, you were talking to Hermione at that stage and she said you were a bit down but otherwise all right. And she saw you getting into one of the carriages to go to the station."

Ginny was gazing into space, though she was very aware of Harry's tender ministrations. "I wondered why Mum never wrote, why I didn't get a Howler."

Ron was horrified. "Mum wouldn't have sent a howler about something so personal." Ginny looked at him pityingly.

"Of course she would have, you dolt! She sent a Howler to you pronouncing to the world that Dad was in all sorts of trouble at work because of the flying car." Ron's face had reddened as that particular memory was forced to the forefront of his consciousness.

"Surely that was something that should have been private family business. It was like she lost all reason and control when she got really angry!" mused Ginny. She bestowed a faraway look on her brother. "You're a bit the same way, actually." Ron reddened even more.

"She's much more controlled these days," informed Harry gently. "I think she spends quite a lot of her time looking at her past actions. She's a shadow of her former self."

Ginny looked at Harry disbelievingly. "If you're trying to make me feel guilty, Harry, you needn't bother." Harry looked appalled.

"That wasn't what I was doing, Ginny," he said emphatically.

"But he's right," put in Ron. "She has changed, Ginny. "The grand kids are her sole consolation these days."

Ginny's lips thinned. "Really? I wonder if she will accept an illegitimate granddaughter with some Malfoy characteristics."

"I'm sure she will," said Harry without hesitation. Despite her misery, Ginny let out a disbelieving snort.

"Ginny, you were raped!" pointed out Ron, successfully putting the subject back on track. And despite fresh tears welling in his sister's eyes, he continued determinedly. "Mum can't put any blame on you for that. Especially if she doesn't know you and Malfoy were an i..."

Ginny's glare, even through swimming eyes stopped him mid-word. "Err...I mean, that you socialised on occasion."

"Don't be frightened to call a spade a spade Ron. I thought Malfoy and I were an item. But he had a whole other agenda going." She gave an involuntary sob. "He was just stringing me along. Probably for the purpose of getting back at me...at all of us I suppose, for getting his father put in prison. And I ignored the fact that he had always called us Blood Traitors. Those sorts of sentiments never change–he hated Gryffindors in general, and he especially hated Weasleys, Potters and Grangers. Mudbloods...anyone, in fact, who wasn't a pure blood Slytherin.

"And because I was wild with you two and Hermione, it was easy for him to con me. I let myself be conned. All along, he was thinking coolly and clearly and he had a final scene in mind right from the start.

"I, on the other hand, really came to like him. He could charm for England, and one stupid, angry, lovelorn, hormonal teenage witch fell for his charms."

Ginny blew her nose while Harry and Ron sat silently and watched her in her misery. Harry felt increasingly guilty about his total disregard and neglect of the younger Ginny during that fateful year, knowing there was nothing he could do to change any of it now.

But he was also baffled: he could not understand how any female, let alone one as clever and insightful as Ginny had always been, could be so thoroughly taken in by a sleezebag such as Malfoy had always been. Harry had witnessed the Slytherin on more than one occasion chatting up other girls at school, and his technique was cringe-worthy as far as he was concerned...he had been so phoney with his compliments and gallantry; it was beyond comprehension how any girl could be taken in by him.

But what did I know? I had one date in the whole of my time at Hogwarts and that was an unmitigated disaster. If Malfoy's methods got him what he wanted, then who's the pathetic loser, him or me? I could have had Ginny in my life for the last four odd years had I but known...had I been aware she was even alive and pining for me.IDIOT!

Bu t even though he had had his work cut out for him that year with his extra-curricular lessons with Dumbledore, as well as his own Malfoy fixation, he knew missing all the signs concerning Ginny was not really something he could beat himself up over...hell, even having registered that she was alive and at the castle had been a miracle considering how obsessed he had been with Tom Riddle and Draco Malfoy.

But there was something he was forgetting. Harry's brow furrowed as he went over the revelations that had come to light since yesterday. And after a few moments, he realised what it was. He looked at Ginny who seemed to be reliving some of her past pain if the faraway look in her eyes and the occasional sniffle were anything to go by. Ron too was in another time and place, but at least he was acting true to form and was eating a sandwich; albeit with less than his usual gusto.

"Gin?" said Harry tentatively. "What did you mean yesterday when you said that you thought Bonnie was Malfoy's?"

Ron stopped chewing and Ginny paled so much, Harry thought she might faint; she actually swayed a little in her chair and she had to put her head down on her folded arms. Ron put his sandwich down and stared at his sister's vulnerable back; she didn't seem to be able to articulate any words.

"Yeah, Ginny...what did you mean by that?"

Both Harry and Ron held their breath waiting for what they both knew was going to be another horrifying revelation; Ginny's words, in retrospect, could really only mean one thing.

Without lifting her head–as if she was capable of doing even that–Ginny mumbled into her folded arms. "His plan wasn't just for his own revenge and gratification...he shared his prize with his two bookends: Crabbe and Goyle."

TBC...

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