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Category: Post-OotP Characters:All Genres: Angst, Fluff, Drama, General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 147 Summary: Harry's life is in turmoil since the death of his godfather, but realising he is in love doesn't make it any easier. This story tracks his sixth and seventh years at Hogwarts and all the problems he faces. Hitcount: Story Total: 69841; Chapter Total: 4243 |
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Friends and More Disclaimer: see profile Chapter Thirteen: Admission It was late, and dark in the deserted common room. Harry sat on a sofa, thinking about things. Life, current events, Ginny… they all had to be sorted. The strangest was the change he had seen in Draco Malfoy. He had not said a word for a week, not in classes and, according to Blaise, at any other time either. Harry had kept a close eye on him. He began to get worried. Him, worried about Draco Malfoy? He shook his head; the world must surely be ending now. Draco hardly ate, and his normally handsome if cold features were beginning to look wasted. He seemed drained all the time, and once or twice, after lessons, he had appeared on the verge of collapse. And then the biggest shock of all: he had turned up at the last DA meeting. True, most of the school turned up these days, but everyone had gone silent the moment the blonde boy entered. He could not meet anyone’s eyes but stared at his feet and stood at the back, listening to what was said. He didn’t join in with the duelling practice: Harry guessed that Draco knew not one person there wanted to have anything to do with him, let alone have him point a wand at him. Harry walked over. “It’s been a long time since second year, Draco. Even then, I didn’t think either of us really won. Why don’t you show me how it’s done?” Harry spoke lightly, meaning everything he said and trying to keep his voice dead even, or possibly even attempting to make it friendly. He saw Ron, Hermione, Ginny and a few others looking at him with disbelief, no longer practicing but staring at him instead. He himself wondered vaguely what he was doing, but the only answer he could come up with was ‘what needs to be done.’ Draco looked up slowly and forced himself to meet Harry’s eyes. Harry had expected a leer, or an arrogant iciness. He had not expected the usually cold eyes to be red-rimmed, tired, and desperately sad. When he spoke, Draco sounded rather odd. “Are you sure?” As an answer, Harry smiled briefly, held up his wand and bowed crisply. Draco did the same, and then fired off several spells in quick succession. Before anyone could so much as blink, the two were duelling furiously. And Draco was dammed good at it. Not in the same way as Harry, or Ginny, but in his own, rather special way. For one thing, the range of spells he used was far greater than anyone else’s, and though many of them were not particularly powerful their effects were sufficiently interesting to keep Harry guessing. Also, while Harry moved fast and purposefully, and Ginny moved with reckless abandon, Draco moved with grace and elegance, almost as though he were dancing. Harry thought it admirable. He didn’t know it, but those watching thought that Harry moved in pretty much the same way, and Ginny knew that it was the Laminamancy that had caused that. Eventually Harry caught Draco with a stunner to the torso, and he went down. Harry pulled him to his feet, muttered “speak to me afterwards” in his ear and walked off towards some others. His way was barred, though, by Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Blaise, Dean, Seamus and quite a lot of others, mostly Gryffindors. Harry stood before them and raised an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?” “What the hell are you doing, Harry?” Ron hissed at him. “Letting Malfoy anywhere near you, carrying a wand…” Harry looked around. Everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing as Ron. He looked at Hermione, and at Ginny, expecting them to be, perhaps, a bit more understanding, but Hermione looked vaguely scared, clutching Ron’s arm, and Ginny was looking furiously at him, just as she had at Hagrid’s cabin, and Harry’s heart and eyes dropped. “I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. I know how easy it is for parents to screw up their kids. Look at what the Dursleys did to me, and Dudley as well. Draco is all alone. Most of the Slytherins hate his guts; hell, most of them are here. His parents are probably insane, and tying him to the service of someone he hates and fears, and whose beliefs he doesn’t really share.” Harry looked up, and met every one of their glares steadily, and repeated himself. “I have to give him the benefit of the doubt. I’m not asking you to trust him. I don’t trust him, not yet. But he needs a chance to sort out who he is, and whether that’s who he wants to be.” Everyone was still staring at him, looks of incredulity and some shame on every face. Ginny still looked livid. Harry turned away, feeling it cost him everything he had to do that, and went to tutor some of the younger students with the reductor curse. *** Harry sat behind his desk in his office as Draco shut the door behind him, before sitting in one of the chairs suitable for an interview. He looked nervous, apprehensive… even fearful. But the session in the DA had given him enough courage to at least look Harry in the eye. Harry considered Draco before speaking. “This year, I said I’d open the DA to anyone who wants to come, and I meant it. As far as I’m concerned, you’re welcome, just so long as you have no ulterior motives. The others will take longer to come around, I’m afraid. Let me make something clear: I don’t trust you. Yet. I have no reason, and I have every reason to hate you. I’m really putting my neck on the line here. But, trust can be earned, and not just from me. From everyone. Is that why you came? Do you want a chance to prove yourself?” “Yes.” It didn’t sound sullen, or drawling. It sounded like the truth. Harry slowly nodded his head. “In that, case, I’d suggest trying to patch things up with Blaise. You may as well know, it was him who stunned all your friends in the train on the way here: he’s been our spy in Slytherin since the start of the year, not yours in the DA. But he’s a good guy. Sometimes I think he’s like I would be if my parents… well, that doesn’t matter,” Harry finished that line of thought abruptly, slightly embarrassed that he had told Draco something so personal, and not anyone else, but Draco was nodding with comprehension. “I had noticed the similarities. He’s a good guy. He never bullied anyone, or showed off. He was never anything like me,” he said, bitterness and self-loathing entering his voice. Harry said nothing. Draco looked straight at him. “How do you cope?” “With what?” Harry asked, considering the irony of the question. It could be any number of things. Running the DA, having to destroy Voldemort, Ginny… “Your parents.” Harry smiled, very slightly, though it was a sad smile. “It’s not easy. It helps that I have a family now, of sorts. People who care about me. You know, I get a lot of sympathy ‘cos I’m an orphan. I sympathise more with Neville, whose parents don’t recognise him, and who probably never will. And I sympathise with you, because your parents don’t care. They were given the greatest gift, their own child, and they didn’t care. I hoped maybe you’d realise that, and work out what really matters in life. I just regret what had to happen first.” Malfoy laughed harshly, but there were tears in his eyes. “Bloody marvellous time to have a crisis of faith. He was the only one who ever even tried to advise me against being such a delusional scumbag, and I threw it in his face. In his way, Snape cared for me.” He swallowed. Harry recognised the symptoms: this was hard for Draco to say, but he needed to say it. “He cared for me, and I didn’t even recognise it, and now he’s gone. And the reason he cared for me? He saw too much of himself in me.” That gave Harry pause for thought. Recently he had compared himself to Snape. Just how different were they, he and Draco? If they had had each other’s upbringings, how would they have been different? He remembered his aunt and uncle talking about a poem, something about it being obscene. Something about your mum and dad. Who wrote it? Larkin, maybe? Draco left shortly afterwards, but stopped at the door. “I’m sorry about that thing with Ginny, too. Please tell her I… I won’t be bothering her again.” Harry grinned mischievously. “Over her, are you?” Draco blushed. He really blushed, not the pink tinge to his pale cheeks that meant he was livid, but a full blown, utterly scarlet blush. “I… I’m going out with Padma Patil. It’s amazing really,” he said, and for the first time Harry saw a totally genuine, bemused smile on Draco Malfoy’s face. “She really seems to like me, and to believe I’m, well, sorry. Trying to change. She’s incredible,” he finished, somewhat breathlessly. Harry looked at him, and envy filled him for a moment. Draco Malfoy, who had hurt him and his friends over and over again, had the kind of closeness with someone he liked that Harry could only dream about. He looked away. “I’m happy for you.” Draco had nodded and left. Harry spent this evening, like that one, alone. He didn’t play, or read. He just stared at the fire, and hoped he’d done the right thing. *** “Harry, a word?” Harry looked up from where he had been picking at his breakfast, alone, at the very end of the Gryffindor table. He was alone because Ron and Ginny were still angry with him over Malfoy, and Hermione was too worried about what might happen to try and mend bridges right now. Lupin was standing over him, smiling at him, and something struck Harry. Remus Lupin, the last of the Marauders… not counting Wormtail, of course… Harry felt a surge of affection for the grey-haired man. Something occurred to him to ask Lupin, but he saved it for later. “Sure.” “Since I’m here, and… well, I really don’t want to leave right now,” he said, a faint tinge of pink creeping into his cheeks, and Harry saw him glance at Lawhead, who was busy looking stern at the top table, “Professor Dumbledore asked me to teach any seventh years who want to learn how to apparate, and everyone thought it would be wise to teach you as well. Dumbledore informed Tonks and myself of your, er, other newfound ability.” He shook his head, smiling bemusedly. “Quite, quite incredible. Trust you to break every rule ever made. Well, we thought apparition would be another skill you should know. What do you think? I’d teach you separately, in Tonk’s office.” Harry grinned; he had been considering asking Dumbledore if he could learn for a while now: it would be useful, to say the very least. “Great! When do you want to see me?” That evening he stood outside the defence office and knocked. Lupin opened it, smiling. “Ah, come in Harry. Sit down.” Harry grinned. He had been in this office many times, but never had he seen it looking more like… well, like a place where someone lived. It was probably due to Tonks, who was not the tidiest of people even before you took into account her extreme clumsiness. She was sitting in an armchair, and smiled up from her book as Harry entered before returning to it. Once again, she was in her natural form: Harry suspected that Lupin had a lot to do with that. “So, Harry, what do you know about Apparition?” Lupin asked, settling himself in another armchair. Before Harry could answer there was a chuckle from Tonks. “From what I’ve seen for myself and heard already, Remus, the whole background thing isn’t going to be necessary. Minerva told us about your most recent brand of rule-breaking;” she smirked at Harry’s obvious discomfort. “Very impressive, Harry. Showing everyone else up is obviously the way to defeat Voldemort,” she drawled. “I’m surprised he can’t Apparate already.” “But I can!” Tonks stopped chuckling. Both were looking at him very closely. Lupin sighed heavily. “No, I’m sorry, this isn’t making sense yet. I must still be imagining things. You’ll have to explain it to us, Harry.” Harry took a deep breath. “I borrowed a book from Hermione after we arranged this, and I read most of it… I had a couple of free periods, and lunch, you know. It all seemed fairly straight forward, so I thought I’d go and try it. Up in my dorm. It was really easy, even though I was just going across the room.” Lupin sighed again. “Harry, it is a very bad habit of yours, repeatedly doing what has always been thought impossible. You do know that no one is supposed to be able to apparate in the school grounds? The closest anyone can get is the house elves, and that’s not quite apparition, Wizards can’t do it.” He looked speculatively at Harry, who frowned. “I just thought you couldn’t travel… you know, across the boundaries. I thought you could do it once you were inside.” Lupin shook his head. “The wards cover the entire castle, not just the boundaries. We’ll have to tell the headmaster about this.” Harry looked and felt uncomfortable, wondering how much to say. “He… well, he already knows why I can do all this stuff, that’s supposed to be impossible. He told me after the animagus thing. And no,” he said, in reply to Lupin and Tonks’ shared look of inquiry, “I’m not going to explain. It’s, well, personal.” He could feel his cheeks flushing and fought for some suitable change of subject. “Anyway, if it’s impossible, why did we meet up here?” Lupin shrugged. “I was just going to go over the theory here, then take you to the shrieking shack, by the passageway under the willow, to start the basics. In fact, I still want to do that.” He paused, then said, “Harry, why don’t you apparate to the Whomping Willow now? I’ll meet you there soon.” Harry nodded, and shut his eyes briefly, easing his mind to the vicious tree in the grounds. Scarcely a second later he opened his eyes to find himself there. The willow’s branches swayed with the strong breeze, and Harry closed his eyes again, feeling the air move around him and caress him. He loved the feel of the wind, on his face, in his hair, and he stretched out his arms, extending his fingers until it felt like water was streaming through them. He heard Lupin coming when he was still a long way away and stood, waiting for his old teacher. Lupin looked impressed. “Did you realise, Harry, that you did that pretty much silently? That usually takes some practice.” Harry coloured at the compliment. He wished he were better at taking praise: it wasn’t as if he was any stranger to being given it these days. Especially, to his displeasure, from Professor Thompson. The new Potions Professor was pretty good, Harry supposed, competent, reliable… but he couldn’t hold a candle to Snape. It was only now that Harry recognised Snape for the genius he had been. At the advanced level, not only Harry and Hermione but most of the class could outperform the nervous little man who taught them now, and who was obviously much more comfortable with the relatively harmless potions they had made in their first few years at Hogwarts. He seemed amazed at the competency of the seventh years, and seemed to spend most of his time congratulating Draco, Blaise, Hermione, himself and a few others for potions that hardly seemed difficult anymore, at least not to Harry. He had begun to wonder why it had taken him so long to appreciate the simplicity of following the recipe precisely, and the satisfaction you got out of getting the potion right. But then, given his track record, being quick on the uptake was not something Harry exactly prided himself on. Lupin looked around. “Harry… if I set up a concealment charm so no one could see you, would you be willing to transform and press the knot under the tree?” Harry considered. The tree was beginning to lash around now, and with more than the wind moving it. Still, he was fast in his lion form. Very fast. He thought he could probably dodge the branches without too much difficulty. “OK. Which knot is it?” Lupin pointed it out, and then made a few passes with his wand, muttering words Harry recognised as a distraction incantation: no one in the school would feel the need to look out of the windows at them right now. He shifted. As the white lion, he paced around the tree before selecting a direction of approach. He had never before had such purpose for his animal form, such a need of his physical abilities, and as he ran and leapt, this way and that, dodging branches and drawing nearer the trunk every moment, re revelled in the speed and strength that was his to command. Again he felt the wind, this time through the thick fur of his hide, and whipping through his jet-black mane, and he gloried in the freedom of it. He landed on the knot and the tree stilled, and he slipped into the passageway, running in his fast but easy lope along the damp, earthy tunnel. He transformed when he reached the ruined house, and waited for his teacher. “How was that, Professor?” Lupin grinned. “Most impressive, Harry. And…” he paused, then smiled more gently. “Please, call me Remus. Now, I want to see just how good you are. You remember the bedroom upstairs, where you met Sirius?” Harry nodded. “Apparate straight onto the bed, then back down here, right where you’re standing now. Try to do it as quickly and quietly as possible.” Harry nodded, and was gone, utterly silently. A moment later he was back, and Remus didn’t even see any dust rise; Harry was standing in his own footprints. He shook his head. “You know, it worries me how easily this comes to you, Harry. Sit down. Please.” Harry did so, and the question he had thought of before rose within him. “Remus… did Sirius leave a will?” “Legilimency too, Harry?” Remus chuckled when Harry nodded. “You didn’t read that in my mind, though. I wasn’t even looking at you, though I was thinking about it. Yes, Sirius left a will. Wills in the magical world are extremely complex, Harry, and I won’t bore you with the details, but there is a lot you need to know. I am now officially your guardian, Harry… though you’ll be seventeen in just a few months, legally an adult, so it won’t affect either of us much. “Number twelve, Grimmauld Place now belongs to Dumbledore as head of the Order, as Sirius wished, but his estates and possessions all went to you. Combine that with the fortune your parents left you, and you are a very rich young man, Harry. You are now the head of two of the oldest and most respected families in the Wizarding world: the Potters and the Blacks. There might be a third as well, but no one is quite sure… anyway, that’s for another time. Right now, though, I want to use my power as a guardian, even though you don’t want me to.” Harry squirmed, knowing what was coming. Here it came. Number five. “Harry, please tell me what Dumbledore explained to you, about your new powers.” Harry sighed. This was not going to end without Remus knowing too. It wasn’t as though he didn’t want his guardian and friend to know the truth. Hell, he wanted the world to know how he felt. But he wanted Ginny to know first, and that was impossible, since Hermione, Luna, Hagrid and Dumbledore had already figured the whole thing out. “You know about the prophecy, right?” Remus nodded. “Well, I asked the headmaster at the end of last year what power I could possibly have that could defeat Voldemort. At the time I didn’t understand his answer, but now I’m beginning to. He said my power was my love, both the love people feel for me and that I feel for others.” He stopped and swallowed, wondering how to continue. Lupin’s face was impassive, although there was a strange, shining quality to his grey eyes. “Dumbledore said that, ever since I’ve come to Hogwarts… ever since I’ve entered the Wizarding world, there have been people who love me. The Weasleys, my friends, even some of my teachers, some of the time.” Remus grinned and Harry smiled back, feeling another surge of affection for the quiet man who had always been so wise and ready to help him, and always so unassuming. “I think what he meant was that I have a lot of power that’s, I dunno, tapped by this love. With all those people loving me to a greater or lesser extent, I’ve always needed to do what’s necessary. I’ve always coped with the problems. But, it’s always been… passive. No, that’s the wrong word. Reactive, that’s it. So, it only kicks in when the need arises. The need to find the Philosopher’s Stone, the need to save Ginny and kill the basilisk, the need to conjure the Patronus to save Sirius, even the need to escape that graveyard…” He tailed off. Remus was nodding his head, but then he looked hard at Harry. “What’s changed?” This was it. Harry screwed up his courage. “I fell in love. Or, I realised I was in love. Back in the summer. Dumbledore knows, and he said that that was allowing me to use even more of my power. And not just the Apparition or the Animagus thing either. I’ve been better in lessons, although at the start I was just working harder to distract myself. Occlumency isn’t a problem now. I’ve pretty much mastered wandless magic. I’ve taught myself Laminamancy and even got pretty good at playing the ‘cello… and all because, apparently, I’m in love. And she doesn’t even know,” he finished, ruefully. He had talked himself to a standstill, and just sat, looking at his hands lying on the dusty, broken kitchen table. He did not look at Remus. “Who is it, Harry?” Lupin’s voice was very gently, very understanding. Harry looked at him despite himself. His face was full of compassion for his ward who was suffering so much more than anyone knew. “Do you really need to know?” There was no real hope in Harry’s voice: he was resigned to telling Remus, who nodded. “It’s Ginny Weasley.” There was silence for a while. Then Lupin spoke. “Don’t give up, Harry. It’ll work out.” “Will it, though?” Harry’s voice was close to despair as he voiced the fears he hadn’t told anyone. “I’m so stupid. She liked me for ages, I knew it, and I never gave her a second thought. She was always just Ron’s little sister, and now it’s too late. She’s over me. Well over, and I don’t blame her after the way I treated her. Sure we’re close, I’m closer to her than to Ron and Hermione these days, but… she just doesn’t feel that way about me anymore.” He was silent for a while, then continued. “A while ago, Cho Chang told me she still liked me. She asked me out, she even kissed me. Last year I would have thought I was in heaven. Now the only thing I can do is think about how she’s not Ginny and never will be. I’d like to think that one day I’ll feel something for her again, forget about Ginny… but I don’t think it’s going to happen. Not when I keep getting hopeful because of the way Ginny acts. I’m torturing myself by being around her, but… it would hurt more if I stayed away.” There were tears in Harry’s eyes now. Lupin said nothing, but got up and enfolded Harry in a warm hug. Harry cried silently while his guardian held him, torn apart by not being able to help the boy on whom so much depended. If anyone deserved happiness and peace, it was Harry. It just wasn’t going to happen, though. Not for a while, anyway. *** Ginny was still being distant with him, but not because she was angry. She was busy revising for her OWLs, and the stress was getting to her. She used his office, true, but not while he was there. She left the room whenever he entered it. It felt to Harry like a stab to the heart every time it happened. His own exams were approaching as well. He didn’t care much, couldn’t bring himself to revise: he found he already knew it all thoroughly, as though he had known it before being taught it, and that the lessons themselves had been the revision. Besides, they were only mocks for the NEWTs next year. They didn’t matter. Not much seemed to matter to him just then. He threw himself into work with the DA, going so far as to arrange one on one meetings with members having difficulties with the harder spells they learnt: the self enchantment spells like Celeritus, The stealth spells the advanced classes were learning with Lawhead, and the Patronus charm. He spent a lot of time fighting his shadow in the room of requirements, working until his Laminamancy had become a form of time control, where he could slow everything down and evaluate exactly how he needed to move, where he needed to be the next moment, and how to operate his body to be there at the right time. He spent a lot of time alone with his ‘cello, too. And there was Quidditch, of course. There was little doubt that Gryffindor would win the cup now, but they still had one more match to play, against Ravenclaw. The last day of May dawned bright and breezy, not quite perfect for Quidditch but flying would be a delight. Harry gave only a brief talk, mainly encouraging everyone rather than actually telling them what to do: they were a good team. They’d know what to do. And they did. Once again Gryffindor was leading, although the Ravenclaw team was putting up a much better showing than any of the others had. At 110 to 70, Harry had to admit that Cho was an excellent Captain as well as an excellent Seeker. Once again she was keeping close to him, marking his every move, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to look in her face, afraid what he might see there. He pulled to a halt high above the pitch, looking down at the stadium, hoping for a glimpse of gold. The wind was blowing clouds across the sun, dark, brooding clouds, and as the light changed Harry saw someone standing in the Slytherin seats, raising a wand, pointing at where Ginny had just tackled a Ravenclaw Chaser for the quaffle. Pansy Parkinson. Time slowed, just as if he was fencing again, but still the spell moved impossibly fast, and Harry had not reached Ginny, not by a long way. The spell hit her and she fell from her broom. She was at least seventy feet from the ground, but this struck Harry as a good thing: it would give him more time to reach her. Time recovered and Harry felt the incredible speed he was flying at, his eyes fixed on the falling figure in scarlet. Something gold flickered in the corner of his sight and he grabbed it without thinking. He still wasn’t going fast enough. He kicked the broom into its highest speed and Harry felt the wood groaning in protest but he didn’t let up. He was five feet from the ground when he caught Ginny, still unconscious. He pulled up, tossed the almost crushed Snitch to a stunned looking Madame Hooch without dismounting, and flew straight to the window of the hospital wing with Ginny in his arms. Looking back briefly he saw Draco Malfoy marching towards school, Pansy Parkinson unconscious, bound and floating in front of him, and Padma Patil at his side. He grinned. Maybe he really had done the right thing. *** Some time later, Harry sat on a rock next to the lake, staring out into the dark waters, watching the rain teem down on the surface. He was soaking wet and freezing, but he loved it. He loved the storm and its freedom, loved the wildness of it. He would have flown more, but Madame Pomfrey had taken one look at him, staring out of the hospital wing window at the approaching clouds, and confiscated his broom, locking it in the cupboard beside Ginny’s bed. She was fine, she said, just rather in shock, and tired. The confiscation of his broom hadn’t deterred him: he had needed to be there, outside, and feel it. He looked up and marvelled at the lightning playing above him, the game of some unimaginable power. He gloried in the blast of thunder that shook the grounds, making larger waves in the waters of the lake. This was wonderful, this was what he needed right now. He shouted something wordless and meaningless into the fury around him, and felt the exhilaration of being a part of something so powerful. And suddenly she was there, running round the lake towards him, a smile spread over her beautiful face, her flaming hair plastered to her head. She arrived beside him and laughed in the face of the storm, a defiance Harry fell in love with all over again. She was what he needed, he knew. Someone to share everything with, whether it was the quietness of a fire or the ferocity of a storm. “Harry, you’re missing the party! We won the Quidditch Cup! Why aren’t you celebrating?” He grinned at her laughing face. It was funny, but before the match he had felt ready to give up. But now she was with him again, sharing this with him, and laughing with him. He nodded at the clouds above them. “I didn’t want to miss this.” “Thanks for catching me too, Harry. And catching the Snitch on the way? Sometimes you are just a bit too lucky, Potter.” Harry shrugged. “What was I supposed to do, let my star player smash themselves to pieces AND lose the game?” He smiled. “I’m just glad you’re OK. And amazed that you’re here; I can’t quite believe Madame Pomfrey cleared you.” Ginny laughed again, and Harry decided something, quite suddenly. It was time to tell her, he realised. Time to tell her at least part of what he had been keeping. “Ginny, I need to tell you something. You remember I said you would be the first I would tell?” Ginny nodded. She was no longer laughing, or even smiling, but through the rain running down her hair and face Harry could tell she was pleased, and attentive. Harry took a deep breath. “What smashed in the department of mysteries that night… it wasn’t a prophecy, it was the recording of a prophecy that Trelawney made to Dumbledore before I was born. Dumbledore showed me his memory of it. I can’t remember the whole thing, but the gist of it is, either I’m going to destroy Tom or he’s going to destroy me. And it’s me because he marked me. I have some power that can defeat him. And it’s why I’ve been learning Laminamancy. Because our wands won’t work against each other. I need another way to fight him.” Harry fell silent. He had imagined this moment, had pictured them being by a fire, in comfy chairs, and feeling despondent, feeling helpless, but now, with the rain pouring and the thunder crashing all around him, he felt elated. He looked at Ginny’s face and saw worry and puzzlement. He wondered how he could alleviate those things. “Harry, why now? What’s changed? Why do you feel you can tell me this now?” Harry laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Because right now, Ginny, I feel like I can do pretty much bloody anything,” he screamed into the storm. (AN: Thanks again to my betas, I'd look really stupid if it wasn't for you two pointing out all my (many) mistakes. I think the only thing that needs explanation here is the reference to the poem, which some people might not recognise: Phillip Larkin, 'They f*** you up, your mum and dad'. I need to decide whether to write the sequel. I have a ton of ideas for it, moving the whole thing rather AU, so I need to find out whether people would want to read it. But you might not know till youve seen all of this one! Thanks, and please review! Tom) |
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