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A Proper Epilogue | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Other, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, Romance Warnings: Death, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 188 Summary: Harry has just defeated Voldemort and everyone in the Wizarding World wants a piece of him, but there is only one witch with whom he wants to speak. How exactly can he hope that she still wants to see him? Hitcount: Story Total: 74386; Chapter Total: 5157 Author's Notes: I hope this has been "cleaned up" enough!!! I've tried to retain the emotion intensity while limiting the specificity. Our young couple is, after all, intensely emotional. |
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It only took Ginny a few seconds to recognize the office into which she and Harry had Apparated. It now belonged to Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Things were moving more quickly than Ginny had imagined possible. Not even twenty-four hours before, she had been summoned back to Hogwarts in anticipation of a rebellion against the powers of Darkness, simultaneously filled with excitement about seeing Harry for the first time in more than nine months, and terrified about what might come to pass. In the brief period of time that had elapsed since she had been called back to Hogwarts, Harry had shockingly defeated Lord Voldemort and then surprised Ginny with a proposal of marriage. But these high points had been counterbalanced by the deaths of Fred, Colin Creevey, Tonks, and Lupin, not to mention the seemingly endless period of time in which it had appeared that Harry was dead. Conflicting emotions were swirling in Ginny’s mind, overwhelming her physically as well as mentally. On top of everything that had transpired over the last twenty hours or so, she was about to learn everything that had been so frustratingly kept from her all this time. Ginny had made every effort she could to accept the role that had been handed to her, but try as she might, she hadn’t been able to suppress all of her feelings of resentment toward the trio. It was not in Ginny’s nature to sit idly by while others did the important work. She loved Harry and understood why he had so desperately needed to avoid putting her in mortal danger, but it had grated against her fundamental character. Ginny Weasley was a person of action, not a spectator. So it was with raw emotions that Ginny prepared to learn the things that Harry hadn’t previously entrusted to her. She was even more on edge because he had warned her that there would be things that were difficult to divulge and hard for her to accept. She had made light of Harry’s concerns when he had behaved so nervously before asking her to marry him. However, now that the time had come to fill in the sizable gaps in her knowledge, the feelings of frustration and resentment were bubbling up toward the surface of her emotions. Apparently Harry had picked up on her sensitivity for he made no romantic gesture nor wasted any time with small talk. “I’ve tried to figure out where to start, Ginny. You know just about everything that happened during my fifth year, including the debacle at the Department of Mysteries. I think it’s also clear that you were the only person who was able to get through my thick skull for all of that year. If I hadn’t been such a ‘daft boy,’ as you are so fond of calling me, I would have realized that I had already fallen in love with you back then.” “But you couldn’t see past Cho Chang,” snapped Ginny without any trace of humor in her voice. She wanted to say more, to let her built up anger vent, but somehow Ginny managed to bring her emotions back under control. It really didn’t make any sense to punish Harry when, at long last, he intended to tell her everything, albeit after the fact. She wondered when, if ever, she would be able to look back upon being left behind without anger or pain. “Since I broke things off with you to protect you from Voldemort, I thought it might make sense to start with the times he and I came face to face, but before I truly understood what I was up against. Have you ever used a Pensieve before?” asked Harry. “No, but I know they’re used for watching memories,” answered Ginny. “Pretty much,” Harry replied. “So why don’t we start with the time Voldemort tried to use Professor Quirrell to get the Philosopher’s Stone.” So Ginny accompanied Harry to the Pensieve and gazed for the first time down into the silver substance that was neither liquid nor gas. She felt him take her hand and mimicked his action as he leaned over the stone basin. The sudden sensation of falling through time and space was unnerving, as was the uncomfortable jolt when her feet made an impact upon the stone floor. Ginny had heard enough about this confrontation to recognize that she and Harry were taking in a scene that had occurred in the lower levels of Hogwarts Castle at the end of Harry’s first year. Standing before her was an eleven-year-old Harry Potter and a wizard she had never met who was wearing a turban and staring quizzically in front of what had to be the Mirror of Erised. She knew the fundamental plot of the confrontation that had taken place, but nothing she had been told could possibly have prepared her for the horror of seeing the face of Tom Marvolo Riddle erupting angrily from the back of Professor Quirrell’s head. She was amazed at Harry’s presence of mind as he withstood the attack of a fully-grown wizard, battling back with his bare hands until the memory went dark, and she found herself standing once again in the Headmistress’ office. Ginny found that she had lost her sense of anger, and it had been replaced with enormous respect for the boy who had somehow managed to survive the terrifying attack while denying the world’s most powerful Dark Wizard what he most wanted, immortality through the Elixir of Life. Before Ginny could calm herself enough to speak, Harry prodded the surface of the Pensieve with his wand. Misty images swirled about until she recognized the Chamber of Secrets. Harry took her hand again as they leaned toward the basin and tumbled once more into Harry’s memory. Ginny could scarcely tolerate the vision of her nearly dead body lying in the terrifying lair of the basilisk. She had not been prepared for Harry’s panic-stricken reaction as he begged her unresponsive eleven-year-old form to return to life. As had been the case with the first memory, Ginny soon discovered that mere words could never hope to explain the terror of what had happened deep beneath Hogwarts. She watched in horror as Tom Riddle twirled Harry’s wand in his long fingers and at last called the basilisk. She gasped at the arrival of Fawkes and as Harry pulled the Sword of Godric Gryffindor from the Sorting Hat. She was astounded by the courage of twelve-year-old Harry as he battled the giant serpent, finally slaying it while suffering the puncture wound that would have ended his life had it not been for the healing powers of Phoenix tears. Through the entire experience, Harry had remained loyal to Albus Dumbledore and committed to Ginny’s safety. She saw for the first time the sheer look of terror in Harry’s eyes, not for his own safety, but for hers. At last, as the memory of Harry was revived from the brink of death, Ginny felt tears slipping silently down her cheeks. She had understood intellectually that her interaction with Tom Riddle’s diary had nearly resulted in her death; however, she had not been prepared for the emotional shock of watching her life slipping away, nor had she contemplated the terror of Harry’s struggle and the selfless sacrifice he endured so she might possibly survive. No wonder he had buried this memory so deeply that he hadn’t thought to ask her about being possessed. So, as Ginny’s physical presence was returned to the office of the Headmistress, the bitterness she had harbored against Harry withered into nothingness. “I’m so sorry,” said Ginny. “What?” asked Harry, dumbstruck. “I’m sorry I jumped all over you when you forgot that I had been possessed by Voldemort. Now that I’ve seen it from your perspective, it’s easier to see that it wasn't all about me.” “Well, it was and it wasn’t. Saving you from the Chamber of Secrets was all about you, and it certainly didn’t hurt to give me a swift kick in the arse when I thought everything was all about me after your father had been attacked. Like I said before, you were the only one who could really get through to me when I fell apart during fifth year,” he admitted with remarkable frankness. “What happened to you was horrible, Ginny, and I know from personal experience that it will haunt you for the rest of your life. It’s just that Voldemort did so many horrible things to so many people that all of us tended to focus on ourselves rather than thinking about what he did to others. It was one of the ways he kept us isolated from one another.” “Still, Harry, I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve for me to treat you that way, regardless of what we all went through.” “I’m not sure what I did or didn’t deserve,” said Harry reflectively. “But whether or not I deserved it, I certainly needed it! I needed someone to wake me up. I needed to pull my head out of my arse, and you were the only one who had the courage to confront me when everyone else was too worried or too scared to say anything." “Fifth year was hard for me. I spent the summer isolated from all my friends and even cut off from news of our world. Then came the Dementor attack and news that there would be a hearing. When I got to Grimmauld Place I learned that Dumbledore had even made Ron and Hermione agree not to contact me. So, I got angry with everyone — even my best friends. If you hadn’t stood up to me, I might have pulled away from everyone. But I’m getting ahead of myself here. We need to go back to what happened between Voldemort and me. “Third year was pretty interesting but had almost nothing to do with Voldemort, himself, so I haven’t pulled any memories from that time for you. By the way, I’ve never shared these with anyone before.” “Not even Ron and Hermione?” asked Ginny, astounded by the gravity of the implication. “Not even Ron and Hermione. The memories … well … they’re just too personal. I’d feel kind of violated to let other people see them, especially the next one.” “Harry, you don’t have to show them to me, either,” whispered Ginny. “I don’t know what you think I won’t like, but I’m not going to stop loving you or change my mind about marrying you.” “You still need to see them, Ginny. I know I’ve hurt you, and you need to understand why I needed to protect you more than anything else.” Harry paused momentarily, allowing Ginny a chance to see the muscles along his jaw quiver as his entire body stiffened with tension. “You need to know what I’ve been up against … and I also need to do this for me, because for the first time in my life I want to share this with someone. I want to share this with you … only with you.” Ginny’s lips turned slightly upward, gratified to know that, despite all of her past jealousies, Harry had at least saved this part of his life for her. She turned to place a gentle kiss against his cheek, running her fingers over the familiar line of his jaw, even though it was dotted with stubble. “Thank you for trusting me,” she whispered. He turned to look into her eyes and smiled softly back at her. Taking her hand, he directed her attention back toward the Pensieve. This time their feet landed on soft grass. Ginny felt a cold wave pass over her that wasn’t entirely due to the dank weather that blanketed the graveyard like a pall. She gasped at the sight of Harry bound tightly to a headstone, as a man she knew had to be Peter Pettigrew sliced into Harry’s arm with an ugly blade. She then watched in terror as Voldemort emerged from the cauldron. The scene was surreal, as Peter Pettigrew completed his task while bleeding profusely from his self-inflicted sacrifice and Harry struggled against unimaginable terror. Even fully aware that she was viewing Harry’s memory and not the real event, Ginny found it hard to maintain her composure, and found it difficult to hold back an angry command for his enemies to leave Harry alone. The scene continued to unfold as Voldemort summoned his Death Eaters, healed his servant’s severed arm, and began to torment Harry with death threats and lies. Ginny’s heart skipped a beat when it appeared momentarily that Harry might escape, only to be summoned back to face Voldemort in a duel. It was even more frightening than the duel she had just witnessed in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. In the memory, it was Voldemort, not Harry, who instructed his followers to stand helplessly aside during the confrontation. During the standoff, Voldemort mocked Harry mercilessly and, not surprisingly, he never offered Harry the opportunity for mercy that Harry had offered him in the final confrontation. Instead, Voldemort channeled nothing but hatred and the promise of death. The attack was as sudden as it had been cruel. “Avada Kedavra!” “Expel liarmus!” The spells collided in the memory, much as they had in the Great Hall, but that was the only similarity. In the darkness of the graveyard, an eerie dome had spread over the combatants, and ghostly images emerged from the tip of Voldemort’s wand. Ginny had heard the story, but the vision was far more terrifying than even the most vivid of scenarios she had conjured from her imagination. She gasped once again at the sight of Harry’s parents as they counseled him from beyond the grave. She shuddered as an image of Cedric Diggory begged Harry to take his body back to Hogwarts. At last, Harry lifted his wand and ended the effects of Priori Incantatum. Ginny watched, mesmerized, as Harry sprinted to Cedric’s body, summoned the Tri-Wizard Cup, and the memory faded to black. Again, she and Harry stood beside the Pensieve in Minerva McGonagall’s office. Neither could find words; the memory had been too much for both of them. Ginny threw her arms around Harry’s neck and she crushed against him as firmly as she could manage. If it had been possible, she would never have broken the embrace, as the reality of Harry’s brush with death overwhelmed her. At last, Harry managed to break the silence. “The next few memories don’t really involve me, other than the fact that they are my memories of journeys into the Pensieve with Professor Dumbledore. I don’t have his original memories, so these will have to do.” For the next forty-five minutes, Harry and Ginny watched as their former headmaster took Harry through the history of the sad life of Tom Riddle, a tragedy that led him at last to the creation of the Horcruxes. Throughout this process, Harry relaxed noticeably and seemed to be enjoying the time with Ginny. They talked freely, with Ginny playing the role of fascinated student while Harry relished the chance to share important information with her. Overcome with emotion, Harry made the decision to extract another memory to share with Ginny. “How about my favorite memory ever?” he asked. “Okay.” Moments later they landed beside the portrait of the Fat Lady. “You’ll see,” was all he said before his memory entered the Gryffindor Common Room, Ginny ran toward him and flung her arms about his neck. Harry took her in his arms and kissed her without hesitation. The memory took no more than three minutes but left both with smiles on their faces as they found themselves once again beside the Pensieve in Professor McGonagall’s office. Harry swept Ginny into his arms, kissing her even more passionately than he had in the memory. Ginny melted into him, deepening the kiss while moaning enthusiastically. “Haven’t we seen enough?” Ginny asked playfully. “Unfortunately, no,” replied Harry. “Now is when things start to get difficult.” “Start to get difficult?” Ginny asked, incredulous. “I’m afraid so,” answered Harry as he turned again toward the Pensieve. Ginny followed reluctantly. Harry and Albus Dumbledore were standing on a rock in the midst of the sea, a high cliff towering over them. Ginny watched fearfully as the two wizards threw themselves into the frigid water and swam into a cave, but things only grew more frightening as their former headmaster cut deeply into his arm, allowing blood to pulse forcefully against the rock wall. Moments later, she saw them pass through a door that had opened upon the offering of Dumbledore's blood sacrifice before they entered a deeper cavern that contained a large black lake. The tension mounted with every moment, as Dumbledore and Harry climbed into a tiny boat that had been brought to the surface by the older wizard. Ginny forced herself to keep her eyes open as she witnessed the journey across the terrifying lake, which was filled with dead bodies lying just beneath the surface. When she thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, Ginny watched as the wizards arrived on a small island in the center of the lake and Dumbledore began to consume a sickly green potion before becoming disabled. Eventually it became necessary for Harry to pour the remainder of the noxious liquid down his professor’s throat. She breathed a sigh of relief when, at last, the potion had been fully consumed, but her relief became short-lived when Harry was forced to retrieve water from the lake to save his mentor. The resultant attack of the Inferi was the most terrifying thing she had ever witnessed. She watched Harry fight bravely but fail to repel the attackers. Only when Dumbledore managed a feeble rally from his death-like state and cast fire at the Inferi could she again draw breath. Ginny was shocked when after they had escaped from the cave, Harry managed to perform side-along Apparition in order to bring the severely weakened Dumbledore back to Hogsmeade. “I didn’t know you could Apparate during your sixth year,” she whispered. “Neither did I,” answered Harry. “Desperate times called for desperate measures.” Ginny then watched in silence as Harry’s memory faithfully played out the scene atop the Astronomy Tower. She had, of course, heard the entire story that very night as she, Harry, Ron, Hermione and the rest of their group had been assembled in the Hospital Wing. But nothing could have prepared her for the sight of Severus Snape casting the Killing Curse against the only man who had stood up for him against his critics in the Wizarding World. The memory continued to play out as Harry chased after Dumbledore’s killer. Ginny was touched to see Harry take notice of her own situation and saw that the Impedimenta Curse he had fired at Amycus Carrow had been the only delay Harry had allowed in his pursuit of Snape. It was becoming obvious that there was nothing that could keep Harry from trying to protect her. She also recalled that had Harry not instructed Ron and Hermione to share the Felix Felicis with her, she might not have survived the battle that night. These memories of his concern for her went even further toward convincing Ginny that Harry had never neglected her despite the fact that she had never become part of the trio. Ginny’s heart was racing as she watched Harry pursue Snape from the castle, and she shared his frustration when the former potions master casually turned aside curse after curse that had been thrown at him. Her fears subsided somewhat when she saw the memory of Harry watching as Snape escaped from the grounds, with Buckbeak harassing him at every step. Moments later, her heart broke for Harry as he tried to tell Hagrid that his beloved headmaster had died at the hand of another teacher, and she couldn’t stop her tears from falling as she watched Harry refuse to leave Dumbledore’s body until, at last, she saw the memory of herself enter the picture, take Harry’s hand, and escort him to the Hospital Wing. It was approaching eight o’clock when Harry turned to Ginny and asked if she was too tired to continue. Her stomach was growling with hunger, but she couldn’t possibly stop until Harry had shown her everything he deemed important. “No, Harry, I want to see it all now that we’ve gone this far.” “Well, you’ve seen everything that led up to Dumbledore’s funeral. Hopefully you can at least understand how terrifying it was for me to face Voldemort time after time and to lose everyone I ever loved — everyone but you, Ron and Hermione. “I do see,” answered Ginny, “but you still let them come with you.” “Only because Dumbledore had already insisted that I share everything with them. I had already brought them into the secret. I had already shared everything about the Horcruxes. They were already at risk and were vulnerable to Legilimency. “You weren’t at risk in that way, but you were at even greater risk as my girlfriend. Everyone I had ever loved had been taken from me by murder, Ginny. Murder! My dad … my mum … my godfather … my mentor … all killed because of their association with me. “So I did what I thought I had to do and broke up with you. It was the hardest thing I ever did, but I believed … still believe … that I had no choice. As it turned out, you and your family were at risk as blood-traitors, but even after the raid during Bill and Fleur’s wedding, you were all allowed to remain free. Would that have happened if you were my girlfriend?” Ginny remained silent, unsure of the answer, but convinced that Harry’s decision had been made entirely out of love. Her insecurities faded even further into the background as Harry took her hand and turned back toward the Pensieve. He hesitated for a moment, however, and turned again to face her. “Ginny, for the last nine months, Ron, Hermione, and I were searching for Horcruxes. It took us a long time to figure out what we were doing, so we wasted a lot of time and effort. It would take us all night to go through those memories, so I think it’s best if I just summarize what happened before last night. Is that okay? “I’ll answer any questions whenever you ask, now or any time … forever … whatever you want to know.” “Of course it’s okay,” Ginny answered. “Whatever you think is important for me to know.” The idea of having forever to spend with Harry sounded wonderful and brought a momentary smile to her lips despite the pervasive darkness of these memories. With her permission, Harry proceeded to summarize the events from the moment he, Ron, and Hermione had Disapparated from the wedding until the time of Nagini’s attack in the home of Bathilda Bagshot. Ginny found herself astounded by everything her friends had endured — all the risks they had faced and all the uncertainty they had overcome. She was appalled at Ron’s decision to abandon his friends and shivered with fear as Harry described the visit he and Hermione had made to Godric’s Hollow. “Hermione was amazing, wasn’t she?” Ginny asked. “Yes, she was,” answered Harry, “and, it was all the more amazing considering how terribly Ron had broken her heart by leaving. She had barely spoken to me about it, and I had no idea how to make her feel better. That’s always been Ron’s department.” Harry smirked as a nostalgic look came over his face. “She loves him, you know.” “I know,” Ginny replied. “I’ve known that for a long time, but haven’t we all?” “Well, maybe everyone except Ron,” said Harry with a snicker. “Somehow he seemed to be the last to figure it out … not that she was any better at understanding what he was thinking. Sometimes I think they were both mental, but it seems like they have things straightened out now. And it’s not like Ron never redeemed himself. He did, and without him I would not be standing with you now!” Harry then concluded the narrative, taking Ginny from their escape from Godric’s Hollow to the moment he, Ron, and Hermione had entered the Shrieking Shack to witness the murder of Severus Snape. Ginny was no less amazed by all that had transpired — pleased that Ron had returned and thankful that he had arrived just in time to save Harry from drowning at the hands of the locket Horcrux. She was terrified to hear of the torture inflicted upon Hermione and thrilled by their escape, only to feel the shock of loss upon learning of Dobby’s untimely death. When Harry described Nagini’s assault on Professor Snape, Ginny was grateful that Harry had spared her the sight of his memory. “Harry?” she asked quietly. “What about Snape? You told Voldemort that Snape wasn’t his man, but your memory shows that he was with Voldemort to the end.” “Well, that brings us to the final set of memories. Are you up for another couple of trips into the Pensieve?” “Yes,” she answered, “but what about Snape? Is his body still in the Shrieking Shack?” “Bloody hell,” muttered Harry, “I suppose he is — at least what is left of him. I guess we’re going to have to figure out what to do with him. But, first things first …” Harry meticulously removed his memories from the Pensieve and returned them to his mind. He then took the bottle Hermione had conjured at the Shrieking Shack and emptied Snape’s memories into the stone basin. Ginny offered her hand once again, lowered her face to the surface, and found herself in a small park in which Severus Snape was observing two young girls. Scene after scene from Snape’s life played out before her as Ginny fought to control her astonishment, as well as a newly discovered and totally unwelcome pity for the man she once loathed. The fact that Severus Snape had been obsessed with Harry’s mother was simultaneously sad and disconcerting. After viewing the succession of memories leading up to Lily’s death and Snape’s decision to help protect Harry from harm, Ginny realized she had never before understood the concept of pathos. While her initial reaction to Snape’s obsession had been revulsion, his lifetime of unrequited love could only be described as pathetic. And so it was that Ginny Weasley allowed herself to accept for the first time that their potions teacher might not have been entirely evil. That revelation paled in comparison to the one that followed. Ginny gasped in horror at the memory of Albus Dumbledore informing Snape that Harry had become an accidental Horcrux. Despite the drama unfolding before her in the memory, Ginny threw herself forcefully at Harry, clinging to him with a level of desperation she hadn’t known was possible. “Oh, Harry!” she exclaimed as the memory faded, and the couple found themselves once again in Professor McGonagall’s office. “How could he do that to you?” “I think it was just as Dumbledore said, Ginny. ‘If I know him, he will have arranged matters so that when he does set out to meet his death, it will truly mean the end of Voldemort.’ He knew that I would do what my whole life had been meant to accomplish, and he was right.” So Ginny watched silently, unsure of what to say as Harry siphoned Snape’s memories from the Pensieve and returned them to the bottle. He then extracted one last memory of his own and placed it into the bowl, took Ginny’s hand, and again they entered the world of memory. Ginny saw Harry lying prone on the very carpet on which they were then standing, and watched in horror as he made his way out of the castle, protected from being seen by his invisibility cloak. She was struck with anxiety and fear as Harry approached Neville, lied about where he was going, and explained the need to kill Nagini. Then she saw that Harry had stopped to look at her as she tended to an injured girl … saw how he had hesitated as if wanting to say something to her … saw that he had decided against it and moved forward into the Forbidden Forest. “Oh, Harry,” she murmured, taking his hand gently into her own. “I’m sorry, Ginny,” was all he could muster in reply. The memory was proving too difficult to allow much in the way of conversation. “You’re sorry?” she asked. “For not stopping to say good-bye. You have to understand … I could never have gone through … with it … if …” but he didn’t finish the sentence. “I understand,” whispered Ginny. “Is this what you were so afraid of showing me?” Harry squeezed her hand and nodded as tears leaked from his eyes. He didn’t even try to speak, and for the second time that day, Ginny realized that the boy — no, the man — who was brave enough to face death alone was terrified that he might lose her. The hero who had stoically endured a lifetime of pain, who had offered himself for the safety of those he cared about, was having a breakdown over her. That simply would not do. By the time her attention returned to Harry’s memory, she saw him surrounded by the images of Remus Lupin, Sirius Black, and Harry’s parents. She heard him ask if it hurt to die, saw his look of determination, and found herself pulling desperately at his hand, pulling the present-moment Harry away from the Forbidden Forest. “It’s just a memory,” he whispered, pulling her gently forward. So Ginny walked with him, watching as he dropped a stone from his hand, and as the ghostly images dissipated into nothingness. She watched as he tucked the invisibility cloak and wand inside his robes and faced Voldemort unarmed, and she became sick with fear as the Dark Lord cast the Avada Kedavra at the person she had loved since she was barely ten years old. As the memory turned dark, she and Harry were yet again standing before the Pensieve. “I’m sorry, Ginny, …” he said again but never finished his thought. “You brave, brave man,” she whispered. “But I thought I was a daft boy,” Harry replied, making an effort at levity. “Never,” she answered emphatically, taking him into her arms and kissing him with unbridled passion. If Ginny had anything to say about it, Harry Potter would never again fear losing her. As Harry lifted her from the floor, Ginny wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him fiercely toward her. The strength of her embrace apparently surprised Harry, causing them to tumble awkwardly to the dusty carpet. Neither complained, however, as hands groped desperately at unwanted clothing until the couple lay naked together for the first time. Ginny had spent many hours imagining the first time she and Harry would make love, but she had never once considered the possibility that it would happen in a frenzy upon the floor of their headmistress’ office. Somehow there was no room for subtlety as Ginny’s power merged with Harry’s. Overwhelmed with all that she had seen in the Pensieve, and literally aching to show him how much she loved him, Ginny scarcely allowed their lips to part until she had crawled on top of him. She felt his readiness pressing firmly against her inner thigh. Ginny had only a vague idea of what she was doing, having never before been undressed with a member of the opposite sex. In fact, she had never even thought about anything beyond snogging with either of her earlier boyfriends. Truth be told, try as she might to get over being hopelessly in love with Harry Potter, she had never really wanted to be with anyone else. Everything she had seen in the Pensieve confirmed what she had always believed about Harry — that he was unlike any other wizard she had ever met or could ever hope to meet. She reached beneath her, took Harry in her hand, and positioned him directly against her opening. Despite the absence of foreplay, she was more than ready to consummate their relationship. And without thinking about the pain she had been told she would feel, without worrying about the fact that they were in Minerva McGonagall’s office, she lowered herself forcefully upon him. The pain was only momentary and Ginny was determined not to allow it to affect the moment. Apparently Harry sensed something wrong, for his eyes popped open to stare at her with concern. “Don’t worry,” she gasped, pausing only momentarily to allow the pain to subside. In a matter of seconds, Ginny regained her composure as the pain migrated toward pleasure. At last her own fears were conquered, and Ginny was driven single-mindedly to show Harry that he should never doubt her commitment to him. She gazed back into his emerald green eyes and said what she needed to say, a single word punctuating each movement. “And … please … don’t … ever … doubt … my … love … again!” Her blazing red hair swished from side to side and her bright brown eyes remained fastened constantly to his. Harry’s eyes communicated the same love he had shown that morning as he practically begged her to marry him, causing Ginny’s reactions, both physical and emotional, to spiral out of control. “So beautiful,” he managed to whisper between ragged breaths. At last she fell against his chest, kissing him again with equal intensity, if only with a little less desperation. “Merlin, Ginny,” panted Harry, “that was unbelievable.” “I told you I wasn’t going to marry a virgin,” she said lightly, knowing instinctively that they had ventured more deeply into Harry’s emotions than he had ever allowed with anyone else, and that he would desperately need to know she did not regret their actions. “I guess we took care of that problem,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice telling her she had set the appropriate mood. “I’m not sure,” Ginny responded, “I think it’s going to take a lot more practice before the wedding.” “And when should that be?” asked Harry. “As soon as we can without Mum and Dad going mental,” answered Ginny, a soft smile shining on her face. “As soon as we can.” “Sounds good to me,” said Harry. “It needs to be before the start of school and not too close to July 31st or August 11th.” “Right. We can’t celebrate an anniversary and a birthday too close together. We might miss out on some presents.” “Exactly,” laughed Harry. “Speaking of Mum and Dad going mental, what time is it, Harry?” “Almost eleven.” “Then maybe we should get dressed and Apparate back to the Burrow,” Ginny suggested. “Right,” replied Harry, reluctance lacing every word, “your mum seemed happy about things, but I’m not so sure about your dad.” “Don’t worry about him,” Ginny answered confidently. “And why not?” Harry asked. “Daddy’s little witch,” she said, holding her little finger in the air, while her engagement ring sparkled in the candlelight. “He’s always said I had him wrapped around my little finger.” Harry chuckled softly and pulled Ginny toward him, bringing her lips back into contact with his. “So, how are we going to manage all this practice when we’re back at the Burrow?” Harry asked cautiously. “I’m sure we can figure something out,” she answered. “Anyway, you do own a house … or had you forgotten?” “Merlin’s beard! I guess I had forgotten. We have a house elf, too. Maybe Kreacher wouldn’t mind straightening up a bit — make things a touch more habitable.” “That would be nice,” said Ginny. “But speaking of Kreacher,” continued Harry, “we really need to think about him. He’d probably rather die than leave the House of Black, but I can’t own a house elf. Hermione would kill me, and it would just be wrong. What would Dobby think?” “Why don’t you just offer him lifetime employment and present him with clothes?” suggested Ginny, “If you can afford it, of course.” “If we can afford it, you mean,” answered Harry, “and yes, we can. Money is one issue we won’t have to worry about, not with everything we have from both my parents and the Black family holdings.” “I never really thought about that,” said Ginny, as a blush of embarrassment crept up her neck. “I know,” he replied, “and I appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. But everything that’s mine is yours, Ginny. I want you to share my life completely.” “That’s not necessary, Harry. I’ve never had money, anyway.” “But you will now,” he responded. “You’ll just have to get used to it if you want to be married to me.” “I guess I can manage that,” she answered softly. “I love you, Ginny,” he whispered, a look of reverence reflecting clearly on his face. “ I love you, too,” she replied before pressing a gentle kiss on his lips. “Professor McGonagall said she’d be back after midnight to clean up her office,” said Harry. “I’ll leave her a note about Snape’s body and we can head back to your family. I know they’ll be anxious about you.” He walked to the desk that had briefly belonged to the man who had never warmed to Harry, yet always loved his mother. Ginny watched as he picked up a quill and jotted a quick note for the current headmistress. He then returned to her side. “Ready to Apparate?” he asked, offering his arm. “Yes, but I can do it myself,” she answered. “Really?” asked Harry, the note of amazement obvious in his voice. ”You’ll have to tell me about that — and everything that happened to you during the past year.” “I will,” she answered, “but not tonight.” He stared at her, a look of doubt mingling with concern. “Oh, don’t be silly, Harry. I’ve already told you there has never been anyone but you.” “Really?” he asked. “Really,” she replied. But for now we need to get home before Dad passes out from waiting to have his little chat with you!” So, with two soft pops, Harry and Ginny disappeared into the darkness. In a matter of seconds, the claustrophobic pressure abated, and Ginny drew fresh air into her lungs. It felt wonderful to be back home and even better to have Harry at her side. She took his hand and started to head toward the house, but immediately felt herself pulled back into his arms. Harry kissed her gently. “Ready to face your father?” he asked. “Absolutely,” she laughed as they walked the short distance to the kitchen door. She opened it quietly, not wanting to wake anyone who might be sleeping. Her concerns were unnecessary. “Ginny … Harry,” said an obviously agitated Arthur Weasley. “It’s late. What kept you?” “Harry had a lot he needed to tell me,” answered Ginny honestly. “Right, then,” said her father. “We still need a word, Harry.” “It had better be nothing but congratulations,” said Ginny with a solemn tone of voice that did not in the least match the innocent smile she offered her father. “Don’t worry,” Arthur replied. “Your mother has already spoken with me.” Ginny’s smile suddenly became even more radiant as she watched her father throw an arm over Harry’s shoulder before escorting him back toward the garden and the dilapidated shed where everything of consequence to the Weasleys was eventually discussed. |
| Reviews 188 |
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