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Aurors and Schoolgirls
By Northumbrian

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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Drama, Romance
Warnings: Mild Language
Rating: PG
Reviews: 151
Summary:
The Wizarding War is over.

For some Auror training has begun; their lives are centred round London, and the Ministry of Magic. For others, there is the inevitable return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry; their lives are centred around schooling in Scotland. Do these parted pairings, these divided duos, have different destinations and divergent destinies? When, where, and how can these separated souls meet? Holidays, Hogsmeade and Quidditch.

Hitcount: Story Total: 89052; Chapter Total: 6290





Author's Notes:

Thanks to AmelĂ­e and Andrea for their comments, corrections and input. Please review. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.

This chapter has now (09/04/11) undergone a major rewrite to address some of the (perfectly valid) criticisms expressed.
-N-




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14. Christmas: Elucidation

Harry said goodbye to Cho and her grandfather and hurried along Diagon Alley. Ignoring the stares, shouts and pointing fingers, he tucked the parcel Cho had given him into the bag containing his suit and Apparated to the orchard above The Burrow.

The chill December wind was gusting wildly and his overcoat flapped and slapped against his legs as he walked down the hill to his girlfriend’s home. He was early, but he needed to be, he needed to confess to Ginny and he was unsure how she would react. Fortunately, Molly would be there too. Reaching the kitchen door, Harry opened it and stepped into the warm and welcoming room with a nervous, ‘Hello.’

‘Hi, Harry, you’re early,’ said Ginny happily. Springing from her seat at the kitchen table she strode up to him, beaming. She hugged him, stood on tiptoe, and kissed him warmly. Molly Weasley smiled indulgently at them.

Despite the warmth of Ginny’s welcome, Harry was worried, and she noticed. ‘What’s wrong, Harry?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ said Harry. ‘Well, er, I’ve brought something for you, and I need to talk to you about … something else.’

Harry placed his suit bag on the kitchen table, unzipped it, and pulled out the box he’d just collected. It was about nine inches square, an inch deep, and wrapped in bright red paper. He showed it to Ginny, watching her reaction: she stared at him accusingly. Molly said nothing, but was watching carefully.

‘Before you say anything,’ Harry told his girlfriend, ‘let me explain, please.’

Ginny, like Ron, did not like to receive expensive gifts and, as the contents of the box were very expensive, Harry knew that he needed to choose his words carefully.

Ginny folded her arms and gave him her best “Molly” glare. She could silence her brothers with that look, but it didn’t work, not on him. She had tried it several times over the summer, and he’d discovered that he could ignore it, though not always safely. He smiled. That annoyed her, but Harry didn’t worry about that. In the summer he had also found out that teasing Ginny was playing with fire: exciting, dangerous, and occasionally very hot.

‘You made me promise not to spend any more than 25 Galleons on any present for you,’ he began.

Molly looked quizzically at her daughter, who acknowledged the truth of Harry’s words with the merest tilt of her head.

‘So I haven’t,’ Harry continued, desperately trying to remember the argument he’d prepared. He needed to be careful; he could not allow himself to be distracted. Fortunately, Ginny was curious about the contents of the box.

‘This did not cost me anything.’ He lifted the parcel. ‘And anyway I’m not giving it to you as a present. It’s mine, but I thought that you might like to borrow it.’

He handed Ginny the parcel, watching her face carefully. She obviously wanted to find out what was inside the plain brown wrappings. She examined the parcel curiously. It was a box, that was obvious, but she could not determine anything else from simply holding it. Frowning, she unfastened the cheap string and carefully unfolded the paper. The box inside was the same bright red as the wrapping paper. There was a name embossed in ornate gold writing on the lid.

‘Wen Chang’s Jewellers,’ Ginny read the name aloud. ‘Chang?’ she enquired. Her eyebrows attempted to meet each other above her nose in their effort to show disapproval.

‘Cho’s grandfather,’ Harry told her. ‘He’s been running a jewellers shop in Diagon Alley for years.’

‘Arthur bought my engagement ring there,’ interjected Molly, completely failing to hide the hope in her voice.

Trying to disguise the act from her mother, Ginny looked into Harry’s eyes. Without words, she demanded an answer. The box was a little over an inch deep, but it was much too large for a ring. Nevertheless, Harry, startled by Molly’s observation, shook his head. Ginny looked relieved and Harry was unsure whether he should be pleased or disappointed by her reaction.

Ginny turned her back on her mother, and winked at him. She then carefully opened the box, peered inside, gasped, and let the lid fall closed.

‘What?’ she began.

‘Cho told me about it at the Hog’s Head, at the DA party,’ Harry tried to explain. ‘I didn’t understand what she was saying at first. She assumed that I’d know who her grandfather was, what he did for a living. Her grandfather asked her to speak to me, because he knew that she–knew–me.’

‘Snogged you,’ corrected Ginny sharply.

‘That was years ago, Ginny,’ Harry reminded her forcefully. ‘You’ve kissed a couple of boys since then, and I don’t get annoyed when you talk about them. I didn’t even say anything about it when you wrote and told me that your ex-boyfriend had invited both you and Hermione to Hogsmeade. Even though that letter arrived minutes before Ron and I went on the raids.’

He watched Ginny’s face fall as she realised what he was saying. In all his letters, he’d never mentioned the worry that letter had caused. He hadn’t wanted to appear jealous so he’d hidden the hurt from her, until now.

‘You did what, Ginny?’ asked Molly sharply. Ginny made an apologetic face at her mother and then rounded on Harry, her eyes scorching displeasure.

‘We need to talk, Harry. Right now! In private!’ she said forcefully. ‘Follow me.’

Ginny picked up the box and dashed upstairs to her bedroom door. Harry stood still and silent in the kitchen, uncertain what to do. He glanced at Molly Weasley for guidance.

‘You do NOT need my mother’s approval to come into my bedroom, Harry!’ shouted Ginny from the top of the stairs.

With the barest flick of her eyes, Molly indicated to Harry that he should go. He raced up the stairs and entered Ginny’s bright and cheerful bedroom. Ginny was standing in front of the window, and she was fuming.

‘Close the door, Harry,’ Ginny ordered. He did as he was told. When he turned, Ginny indicated with a glare that he should not approach her.

‘What?’ he began.

‘Listen carefully, Harry. First, I’m sorry about mentioning Dean. I was trying to make Ron jealous, not you. I don’t think of Dean like that any more. I don’t think of Dean at all, really. In fact, I never even considered the possibility that you might think I still fancied him. Second, I told you at Hogsmeade that I was not interested in him, so there was no reason for you to be jealous. Okay?’

Harry nodded. ‘After yesterday, I know that, but…’ he began.

‘That’s not why I want to talk to you alone,’ she interrupted him. ‘Sometimes, Harry, you’re a complete idiot. I’m only going to say this once. Never, ever, do that again.’

‘Do what?’ asked Harry, confused.

‘Drop me in it in front of my mother. If you think I’m being stupid don’t tell everyone, tell me! If Ron did something stupid, you would cover for him. You wouldn’t let Mum know, so why the hell did you…’

Suddenly understanding Ginny’s anger, Harry interrupted.

‘I’m sorry, Ginny, that was stupid of me. But you were–unreasonable–about Cho at the DA reunion and I thought that you would be annoyed about me seeing her today.’ Harry realised that he needed to tell her everything, now, and ride out any storm. Still, he hesitated before continuing. ‘I’ve seen Cho a few times while you’ve been at school and I didn’t want a scene today. I thought that if your mum was…’

‘I don’t want a scene either, Harry. That’s why we’re here, and not in the kitchen. You’ve seen Cho “a few times?” How many is a few? When? And why didn’t you tell me?’ demanded Ginny.

‘Three times, twice at her grandfather’s shop, and once at Grimmauld Place.’ Harry tried to explain. ‘Cho’s mum is an interior designer, she organised the redecoration of the house for me. I was going to tell you yesterday, but…’

Ginny frowned and waved him into silence.

‘Yesterday, at King’s Cross and afterwards, you meant what you said, didn’t you?’ she asked.

‘Yes, of course, I did!’ Harry protested, ‘I don’t want to argue about Cho, or Dean or anything. I do love you, I’m just–am I making a mess of things again?’

‘I love you to, Harry, this is stupid, why are we argue…’ she stopped mid sentence. ‘This is all because of what happened at the DA reunion, isn’t it? I was a little bit jealous of Cho then, Harry. But after all of our letters, and after yesterday, you can’t possibly think that I’m still jealous her, can you?’

Harry said nothing. He should have told her the previous day, he realised. He was useless at this sort of thing. He wished that there was someone, anyone, he could turn to for advice. He couldn’t ask Ginny’s father, or her brothers. It was times like this that he needed Sirius, or Remus, or even Tonks.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t say anything yesterday because I didn’t want to upset you, Ginny,’ he apologised.

‘Tell me about Cho, please,’ said Ginny quietly.

‘She told me about that at the DA reunion.’ Harry pointed to the box which Ginny still held. He lifted his head and honestly met her fierce gaze. ‘I knew about Cho’s mum’s business, she’d been recommended to me by Kingsley. I was going to tell you at the party, but you were acting–oddly and I wasn’t sure what was happening between us.’

‘I know,’ Ginny admitted. ‘I was confused too. Go on.’

‘You went outside to talk to Romilda soon after Cho arrived, that’s when she told me about that.’ He again indicated the box. ‘And I asked her about getting her mum to redecorate Grimmauld Place. That’s what we were doing when you came back into the pub and–well–you know. And then, later, when you told me that you were jealous of Cho–outside the school I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to upset you so I didn’t tell you what Cho and I had been talking about. I should have, shouldn’t I?

‘Yes, but I can understand why you didn’t,’ Ginny said. ‘I wanted to know, but I didn’t ask, because we were both on edge, like we are now. This is stupid, Harry. You should have told me, or I should have asked. We agreed in the summer, no secrets. Ron knew about Cho, didn’t he?’

‘Yes,’ Harry admitted. ‘Cho brought her mum to Grimmauld Place on the day she came to give me a quote for the decorating, and I saw her once at her grandfather’s shop. Until today, they were the only times I’ve seen her. She’s got her own job, in Muggle Relations, and she has a new boyfriend, he’s a Muggle,’ Harry paused. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Ginny. But I was worried how you would react.’

‘I’d have reacted the way I reacted downstairs, but sooner,’ Ginny smiled. ‘All you did was delay things. In the future, you should treat me the way you treat Ron and Hermione, tell me what you would tell them, tell me everything,’ Ginny suggested.

‘I don’t tell them everything, Ginny,’ he replied. ‘I never really talked to Ron about Cho. I’ve never really talked to anyone about … girls, because…’

‘Because you haven’t got anyone to talk to,’ Ginny realised. ‘Except Ron, and even you are clever enough to realise that talking to Ron would be worse than useless.’ She looked at him with sorrowful understanding. ‘Even Nev would be better!’ she added, her eyes twinkling. Harry grinned.

‘Cho was a long time ago, Ginny. It was a different world. I honestly don’t know what I saw in her. I mean, she’s quite good looking, I suppose, but these days whenever I see her all it does is remind me that–that she’s not you.’

Ginny gazed into his eyes. She stood in front of her window, her hair shining and her figure silhouetted in the sunlight. She had a strong, determined expression on her face. She understood, he could rely on her the way he could rely on Ron and Hermione, but she was so much more than that.

When they were apart, he missed her, but not in the “they aren’t around” way he missed Ron and Hermione. It was like part of him was missing. It had been that way ever since Dumbledore’s funeral. It hadn’t been an absence; it had been an abscess, a painful gaping hole. Without her, he wasn’t whole. Should he tell her? Could he tell her? He had no idea whether these feelings were normal. He needed to say something more, he realised.

‘And besides,’ Harry added. ‘You’re not Ron, or Hermione, you’re different.’

‘How am I different?’ Ginny asked.

‘I’ve never had an overwhelming urge to snog either of them,’ he admitted, smiling. Ginny laughed.

‘We had a great time last night, didn’t we?’ Ginny’s eyes sparkled as she asked the question. Harry nodded.

‘Especially after Ron and Hermione left,’ he said.

‘Dean’s not you, either, Harry. And Michael certainly isn’t. No more worrying about the ex’s okay?’ she asked, lowering her voice until it was as deep and brown as her eyes. She put the jewellery box on a chest and walked rapidly towards him. He caught her in his arms pulled her close.

‘The last time you and I were alone in this room was on my seventeenth birthday,’ he reminded her. ‘The memory of those few moments helped me survive last year.’

‘And this time, Ron isn’t here to interrupt us,’ said Ginny, pulling him rapidly towards her bed while sliding her hands inside his shirt. Harry reciprocated. Ginny tumbled backwards onto the bed, dragging him down on top of her. As their lips met, her hands slid up his back.

They were interrupted after several minutes of frenzied and frantic fumbling.

‘Ginny! Harry! If you don’t come downstairs now, I will come up there!’ Molly Weasley bellowed from the bottom of the stairs.

Ginny, who by this point was on top of Harry, pulled her face free of his and shouted, ‘We’ll be down in a minute, Mum.’

Harry rolled off the bed and hastily buttoned up his shirt while Ginny made the essential adjustments to her bra and t-shirt. They grinned at each other and tried to catch their breath.

‘Next time, we’ll have to magically keep a conversation going somehow. It’s the silence that makes Mum suspicious,’ Ginny said.

Harry smiled happily and agreed.

‘You still haven’t told me about this,’ Ginny reminded him, lifting the almost forgotten box from her bedside table.

‘It’s mine, sort of,’ Harry said. ‘I didn’t pay for it, my dad did. He commissioned it for my mum. It was going to be her present for Christmas ‘81; he paid for it in advance.’ He stopped, not needing to continue. Ginny recognised the significance of that year. Harry’s parents had been murdered less than two months before Christmas.

‘Let’s go down and see Mum,’ Ginny suggested. ‘We are friends again, aren’t we?’

‘We’re a lot more than friends, I hope,’ said Harry with feeling. He reached forwards with a hopeful hand. They kissed and fondled briefly before walking downstairs hand in hand.

Once in the kitchen, Harry placed the box on the table. He reached inside, carefully lifted out the contents, an ornate Celtic style silver torc and handed it to Ginny. He watched as she examined it carefully. The neck-ring was made from dozens of intricately plaited silver wires and each fine wire was engraved with an elaborate pattern of lilies. The torc ended not with the more traditional Celtic dragons, but with a pair of lioness heads. Each intricately crafted silver head had emeralds for eyes. The torc was heavy, weighing in excess of 12 ounces.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Molly observed breathlessly.

‘Mr Chang has had it since my parents died,’ Harry explained. ‘He didn’t know what to do with it. He couldn’t give it to me, because no one knew where I was. He could have sold it to someone else and taken the profit I suppose, but he didn’t. He decided to keep it until I came of age. He had to keep it for some time after that, of course,’ Harry said. ‘He tried to contact me after the Battle, but I didn’t get his letters.’

‘Why ever not?’ Molly asked.

‘Because of all of the people who try to send me stuff, I gave the Ministry permission to intercept every letter and parcel addressed to Harry Potter, unless it has my full address. They check everything.’ Harry explained.

‘I get presents, love potions, curses, begging letters and love letters. Apparently it’s a full time job sorting the stuff out. The Ministry destroy the love potions. We, the Auror Office, try to track down the people sending curses and cursed items. We’ve caught a couple of former Snatchers that way.’

‘You poor dear,’ said Molly.

‘I get presents too. I’ve told the Ministry to send any presents to the Society for the Assistance of Muggle-borns. Very little of the mail gets forwarded to me. It looks like the Ministry discarded Mr Chang’s letters, they probably thought that it was some sort of confidence trick. When he didn’t get a reply Mr Chang asked Cho to tell me,’ Harry told her. He turned to Ginny. ‘That’s why Cho was so late for the DA reunion.’

‘It’s lovely,’ said Ginny.

‘Mr Chang calls it “The Lioness of Gryffindor”, because…’

‘Because it was made for your mother, a green-eyed Gryffindor lioness,’ Ginny interrupted.

Harry nodded. ‘It would have meant a lot to my mum, I expect, but she never even saw it. I suppose that it would be a family heirloom, except it’s new and unworn. I’d look pretty stupid wearing it, but it should fit you. I–sort of–measured your neck during the Hogsmeade visit.’

‘Outside the school gates,’ said Ginny, remembering the odd way Harry had encircled her neck with his hands those months ago. She passed the torc to her mother, who handled it with cautious reverence.

‘The emeralds match your eyes perfectly, Harry.’ Molly observed as she took the torc.

‘They match my mother’s. I thought that you might like to wear it to the ball, Ginny. It’s not an…’ he stopped, uncertain how to continue. Ginny exchanged a glance with her mother, who went to put the kettle on the stove, deliberately turning her back on the young couple. Ginny stepped forward, stood on tiptoe and held onto Harry’s shoulders.

‘It’s not an engagement ring, because it’s much too soon for anything like that,’ Ginny whispered in his ear. ‘But it’s something of yours for me to wear. Thank you.’ She stepped back and smiled.

I’d be honoured to wear it, Harry,’ she spoke loudly enough for her mother to hear. ‘But the torc is yours, right? It’s not a gift. You will take it back afterwards and keep it safe.’

‘Safe for the future,’ Harry told her seriously. ‘For my daughter, if I have one.’

‘Or your wife,’ suggested Molly from the stove, straight-faced.

Ginny glared at her mother.

‘Or my wife,’ Harry agreed with a smile.

‘You still haven’t shown me the dress robes you’re going to be wearing today, Ginny,’ said Molly as she levitated the teapot and three mugs onto the table. She looked at the suit bag Harry was lifting out of his bag and recognised it for what it was.

‘Harry, you’re not thinking of wearing a Muggle suit to the Presentation and Ball, are you? You must wear dress robes, it’s traditional,’ said Molly.

Harry and Ginny exchanged worried glances which Molly didn’t miss.

‘You’re up to something, aren’t you? I should have known. What are you planning now?’ Molly asked, folding her arms in preparation for an argument.

‘It was Katie Bell’s idea,’ Ginny said quickly. ‘She’s Muggle-born, you know. She went into hiding last year and worked with the resistance, with Kingsley and everyone. She should have been a professional Quidditch player. She was signed up by Puddlemere when she left school, but she had to go on the run. She’s working in Diagon Alley, in what was Mr Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, she’s running a charity to help Muggle-borns who lost everything last year.’

‘The Society for the Assistance of Muggle-borns,’ Harry interjected. ‘I’m the Patron, Mrs Weasley.’

‘They are the people you’re sending your unwanted gifts to,’ observed Molly. Harry nodded.

‘She asked us all…’ Ginny continued.

‘…everybody in the DA…’ Harry clarified.

‘…to wear Muggle clothes to the Medal ceremony and the Ball.’ Ginny continued

‘So, we are,’ said Harry, with a finality which would brook no argument. Molly unfolded her arms.

‘Everyone?’ Molly asked.

‘Everyone who was in Dumbledore’s Army the year we formed, and who fought in the Battle, that’s twenty-five of us. Katie wrote and asked us all, and we all said yes. She wants to get people talking about her charity.’ Harry explained.

‘She’ll succeed,’ Molly observed. ‘She sounds like a clever young woman. So, does Ron have…’

‘I took Ron, Neville and Terry out to buy suits last week. It was a nightmare,’ said Harry. ‘Terry’s mum was Muggle-born, so he wasn’t too bad, but Ron and Neville!’ Harry shook his head. Ginny, who’d been told of the trip to the clothes shop, sniggered. Molly, however, was not smiling.

‘I’m disappointed in you both,’ said Molly seriously. ‘You’re adults, so you can do as you please, but I do wish that you’d stop keeping secrets from us, both of you. Arthur will be home, soon, and I’m sure that, like me, he’ll think that what you’re doing is a wonderful gesture.’ Molly looked rather sorrowful and Harry felt a rush of shame. ‘But really, Harry, and you too, Ginny, you should tell us these things. We don’t say no to everything, you know, we’re not ogres.’

Harry was crestfallen.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Weasley. I suppose that I’m so used to making plans in secret that I forget that I don’t need to do it every time,’ Harry apologised. Molly smiled and pulled him into a hug.

‘That’s all right, dear, you’re trying your best, aren’t you? I’m sure that you’ll both look lovely.’ Molly told him.

‘So you won’t have a problem with me wearing a Muggle dress?’ Ginny asked quickly.

‘Of course not, Ginny,’ Molly told her daughter. Harry, who’d been sent a photograph of Ginny in the dress she’d bought, was impressed by the way Ginny had got her mother’s approval before she’d actually seen the scoop-necked green evening gown.
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