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Blood of the Heart
By kjpzak

- Text Size +

Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Angst, Drama, Fluff
Warnings: Death, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 411
Summary: 7th Yr Sequel to Ancient Magic. It is now known the power of immortality resides inside Harry and Ginny. Will their combined powers be enough to protect them from the Dark Lord?
Hitcount: Story Total: 193093; Chapter Total: 8843







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Disclaimer — I do not own or profit monetarily from the Harry Potter World.



Chapter 3 - Blood Bonds





Harry mopped his brow with the hem of his t-shirt. Dumbledore had obtained permission for him to use magic outside of Hogwarts this summer for the purpose of dueling practice. Harry had suggested Ron and Hermione also participate as a way to keep their skills honed. Harry knew Hermione’s wealth of knowledge on spells, hexes and charms definitely exceeded his own, but she tended to freeze under pressure. While Ron kept Harry on his toes, speed wise, Harry knew Ron certainly appreciated the opportunity to learn some new tricks from his friends.


Harry had argued that Ginny, too, needed to be practicing. The Ministry, however, in typical shortsighted fashion, had drawn the line, claiming Ginny was still too young. Harry had stewed about the decision until it occurred to him the Ministry hadn’t said anything about her learning the spells. As long as Ginny didn’t actually do the spells, she wasn’t doing anything illegal by reading about them.


Knowing Ginny’s birthday was fast approaching, Harry had been searching for the perfect gift. He would gladly give her the moon and every other planet that came with it if that was what she wanted. But Ginny wasn’t a girl to be impressed by extravagant gifts or outlandish gestures. He knew this by how she had reacted to the gift of his mother’s poetry book. Ginny deserved something just as special — and useful.


It had taken two weeks of Ginny’s badgering questions after she watched him, Ron and Hermione practicing, but Harry had finally figured out what to give her. He was going to give her the gift of knowledge. Stashing books away, marking the spells he, Ron and Hermione were learning, as well as any other spells he felt might come in useful, Harry was building Ginny quite the library. And as soon as the Ministry changed its stubborn mind, he planned to have Ginny just as prepared as the rest of them.


For the past six weeks, Ron, Hermione and Harry had seen a revolving door of Order members only too willing to step up to the task of putting them through their paces. Harry had noticed the Weasley brothers seemed to be the most enthusiastic about it, for some reason or other. Today had been Bill’s turn. Harry had a few reddening burn marks as a result of the dueling practice. Of course, he smirked, it was nothing compared to what he had left on Bill.


“Nice work, Harry!” Ron said, grinning at Bill who held a cloth with an anti-inflammatory ice charm on his arm.


“Thanks,” Harry replied, returning the grin. “You alright there, Bill?”


Bill snorted. “Never better,” he grimaced, lifting the towel to take a look at the burn.


“Thanks for warming him up for me,” Ron said, pulling out his wand. “You ready, old man?”


“Old man? Hermione, I hope you weren’t planning anything special tonight,” Bill teased, tossing the cloth aside and returning to the dueling area. “There might not be much left of my little brother when I’m done with him.”


“No?” Hermione bantered back. “Well, then, once my turn is over, I guess I’ll just have to let Fleur know she shouldn’t plan on having children with you in the near future.”


“Hermione!” Ron said shocked, as Bill choked on the gulp of water he had just taken.


“I’m going to go check on how Ginny’s doing,” Harry said, chuckling.


“Oh, fine, leave me here with these two,” Bill shouted at his back.


Harry waved at them over his shoulder and headed back to the Burrow. As he crossed the garden, Harry was surprised to see Nathan Borgin, hands in his pockets, walking up the front path. He watched as Nathan knocked on the kitchen door. Seconds later, Ginny opened it. Harry could see her smile from where he stood as she let the professor in. Looking up, Ginny saw Harry and gave him a little wave. He waved back as she closed the door.


Harry had gotten the distinct impression Nathan Borgin had not been pleased to see his mother yesterday in Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. After the initial icy greeting, Catarina Borgin had quickly paid for her Skiving Snackbox, told the twins she would definitely be back and wished the rest of them a good afternoon, before following her son out the door.


“That was odd,” Ron had said, watching the door close behind them.


“Cold is more like it,” Ginny commented.


“Harry, did Borgin ever mention his family?” Hermione asked, shifting the oversized book she had purchased from one arm to the other.


Harry thought about it. He could still clearly recall the resigned look of acceptance in Borgin’s eyes last term when he had revealed to Harry his reason for being at Hogwarts. Thinking back to the twisted tale of years of manipulation and eventual rejection by his father that Borgin had shared with him, Harry realized Borgin had never once mentioned his mother. Harry had assumed his mother had been absent, even dead.


“He mentioned his father,” Harry answered, “but not his mother.”


“What was his father like?” Ron asked curiously.


“Not like him,” Harry said, nodding his head in the direction of Borgin.


“I liked her,” Ginny said. “It was strange, but when I shook her hand, it was like we were old friends or something, like we had lots in common.”


“Yeah, we know what you mean,” Fred said. George nodded in agreement.


“Oh, my!” Hermione commented, looking at her watch. “We need to go. We promised your mum we’d be home before supper.”


With that, the twins had told Stewart they would be back in a bit and ushered everybody out of the shop.



Last night, Harry’s mind had kept returning to his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and the nagging question of exactly what would happen if Voldemort ever did manage to combine his own blood, which contained some of Harry’s, with Ginny’s blood. According to the spell Lucius Malfoy had attempted to perform, the combination of Harry and Ginny’s blood within Voldemort’s body would give Voldemort true immortality. Borgin had said that technically, the spell would work. However, the circumstances for collecting the blood were unlikely to occur. Thinking that if there was good news regarding the spell, Borgin would have simply sent an owl, Harry quickened his pace.


Opening the door to the Burrow, Harry entered the kitchen. Nathan Borgin sat at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, looking as if he hadn’t had a full nights’ sleep in a while. Join the club, Harry thought as he made his way to the sink for a glass of water. Ginny stood at the kitchen sink, pouring a second cup of tea. Harry glanced at the table as he passed and hid the grin that fought to surface.

Set out in a line, as if marching off to battle, was a roll of gauze bandages, a pair of scissors, a jar of paste the consistency and color of beaten egg yolks, and a glass bottle with a stopper containing a purple oil smelling vaguely of mint and lemons and tasting like burnt rubber. After the first day of dueling practice, Harry had stumbled in, exhausted, bruised, burned and missing a chunk of hair. He claimed the chunk of hair was due to a blasting curse gone wrong. Ginny believed him, until Fred came in, commenting that George’s bald spot was much larger and proceeded to congratulate Harry on his spectacular choke hold. Ginny had patched Harry up best she could, leaving his bald spot as a reminder of why wizards duel with wands, not fists. She then promptly sent an owl to Madame Pomfrey, explaining the situation, and received back all the supplies necessary to ease any suffering caused by the result of dueling practice. It had been several weeks since she had had to uncork the bottle or cut a strip of gauze. However, Ginny still set up the items daily, just in case. Harry knew it gave her something to do and helped her feel useful. He smiled, thinking how, soon, she would have something else to keep her busy. Leaning over, he gave Ginny a quick kiss on the cheek. She wrinkled her nose.


“Harry, you stink,” she said, pushing him away gently.


“So, a hug is out of the question?” he asked innocently.


“For more reasons than just your personal hygiene,” she grinned, nodding at the table.


“Hear, hear,” Borgin chimed in, toasting Ginny with his mug. “So, Harry, how’s dueling practice going?”


“Good,” Harry said, sitting down across from the professor.


“Lupin comes tomorrow, doesn’t he?” Ginny asked, sitting down next to Harry.


Harry nodded.


“Excellent,” Nathan said. “He’s very proud of what you’ve accomplished, Harry, for good reason, too. I’m hoping to get into the rotation, too. I could use a little practice. My dueling skills have gotten rusty.”


“Sure,” Harry said, flushing slightly. He had known he was getting stronger. Thinking on his feet was something Harry had always excelled in; with the DA and now daily dueling practice, his repertoire of spells had grown to match his speed. He was a little embarrassed that Lupin was bragging about him, but, at the same time, rather proud that he had impressed him.


Nathan cleared his throat. “I need to talk to you two about something I’ve discovered,” he said, setting his tea cup down on the table and clasping his hands together.


“Okay,” Harry said, leaning back.


“What about?” Ginny asked, scooting her chair forward.


“About the immortality spell Lucius Malfoy attempted,” Nathan replied seriously.


Ginny blinked at Nathan before scooting her chair backward. Instinctively, she reached for Harry who enveloped her hand in his own and rested it on his knee.


“It will work,” Harry said tonelessly.


“Yes — and no,” Nathan answered. “The reasons it will and won’t work haven’t changed. What I have discovered is a way to make sure it will never work.”


“What do you mean?” Ginny asked.


“Have you ever heard of Blood Bonding?” Nathan asked, looking from Ginny to Harry who both shook their heads. Taking a deep breath, Nathan stood up and began to pace, as if he were delivering a lecture in class.


“Blood bonding is a form of protection used by witches and wizards who practice Ancient Magic. The basic concept states that, through the combining of blood, a bond is formed, making it impossible for the blood given to be used against the witch and wizard who gave it.”


“We don’t practice ancient magic,” Ginny said slowly, her brow furrowed.


Nathan waved his hand as if to erase what he had just said. “I’m sorry, I’ve been thinking of this all night. That wasn’t a very good way to start.” Taking a deep breath, he tried again. “There is a ceremony that can provide you, Ginny, and you, Harry, protection from Voldemort ever being successful in regard to immortality spells involving your blood.”


Nathan paused. Ginny nodded slightly to indicate she understood. Harry just looked at Borgin, his expression unreadable. Borgin made a mental note to tell Harry to practice that look during dueling; his opponent would never know what he was thinking.


“A Blood Bonding is based on deep emotion, usually taking place between a witch and a wizard who are in love. One of the parties must be of age, the belief being that when a witch or wizard achieves the age of seventeen, the heart has become stable enough to make this type of commitment. The other stipulation is one of the parties must act as a Mediator.”


“A wha -” Ginny and Harry both started simultaneously before Borgin held up his hands.


“A Mediator is a type of Healer, a facilitator of emotion and blood.” Borgin explained, turning to lean on the edge of the sink. “It is a specialized skill that has been passed down from Mediator to Mediator. A Mediator is not born; however, to become a one, the witch must exhibit certain characteristics.”


“Witch?” Ginny asked.


“It most often is a witch, especially in bondings of younger couples such as yourself,” Borgin said. “I’ve been told this is the case because young men of seventeen, while their hearts may be mature enough, they can still be somewhat hot headed and volatile,” he said, smiling slightly at Harry, who did not smile back.


“And you think I have this — this ability?” Ginny asked.


Borgin nodded. “Without training, a Mediator will be able to act as a calming force to her bond. She will provide a grounding, a center for her wizard. With training, a Mediator can take that skill and parlay it into the ability to heal her bond’s blood. Through a Mediator’s ministrations, the body learns to accept the toxins, fight them and ultimately becomes stronger because of them.”


Ginny tightened her grip on Harry’s hand. A sense of excited panic was beginning to grow in her stomach. She glanced at Harry who, in turn, was studying her. Turning his gaze to Borgin, Harry nodded slowly.


“She — she always seems to, I don’t know, calm me down, make things okay,” he finished, blushing slightly at revealing something so personal to someone else.


“She centers you,” Borgin nodded in agreement.


“Hello, I’m still in the room,” Ginny said, her voice rising slightly.


Boring smiled gently at her. “Another sign that led me to believe you might have this aptitude was how you recovered this summer. It made sense for you to withdraw into yourself in order to heal. It’s what Mediators do, heal from the inside out.


“With a Blood Bonding, the Mediator who participates in the actual ceremony is able to combine the blood in a way that makes it inseparable, and therefore impenetrable,” Borgin continued.


“Why do you know so much about Mediators?” Harry asked suddenly.


“Mediators work in ancient magic, Harry,” Borgin replied. “They believe the strength of the body is in its blood. To heal the body, you make the blood stronger. To make the blood stronger, you make the body open to healing.”


“You said one of us has to be of age in order to make this type of commitment. What do you mean, ‘this type of commitment’?” Ginny asked.


Borgin took a deep breath and pushed away from the sink. Pulling his chair back out from the table, he sat down across from the two teenagers.


“Blood bonds are not random, and not,” Nathan paused, “not always a true love match, although the most successful ones are. A Mediator can bond once in her lifetime, maybe twice,” he explained. Taking a deep breath, Nathan looked deep into Ginny’s eyes. “Mediators do not have a choice in who they are able to bond with. They are born with their bond. It is probably why you have always been drawn to Harry.”


“Y — you mean, we were destined to be together?” she whispered. Ginny could feel her heart pounding. She wasn’t sure if it was from anger or fear or excitement. She didn’t want to look at Harry, afraid of what she might see in his expression. She didn’t want to see anger there. She knew he wouldn’t blame her personally, but she could understand if he felt this one more thing he had no control over.


“Yes and no,” Borgin answered. “Your bond is Harry. However, that doesn’t mean you would have necessarily ever met or fallen in love with each other. You could have easily fallen in love with Neville or Colin, gotten married, had twelve kids and never been the wiser.” Borgin smiled as he saw Ginny grimace and Harry scowl. “However, your talents have come to the surface because you did meet and you have fallen in love. Your Blood Bonding, should you choose to do it, will be successful because he is your bond.”


“Are you sure?” she asked.


“Yes,” Borgin confirmed. “I’m sure. All the signs are there.”


Ginny felt Harry lift her hand off his knee and envelope it with both of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She turned her head. Harry smiled gently at her. She smiled back, tears rushing to her eyes as she realized he wasn’t angry over this.


Clearing his throat, Harry kept his gaze locked with Ginny’s. “So if we said yes, how would Ginny learn to become a Mediator? What do we need to do?”


“Ginny would need to apprentice with another Mediator. Finding a Mediator to train with can be difficult as there aren’t many known ones in the wizarding world,” Borgin said matter of factly. “Once she has completed her training, you two would need to do a Blood Bonding. Once bonded, your blood could not be used against you”


“What happens after we’re bonded? I mean, does that mean we stay together forever?” Ginny asked.


“Not necessarily. But you won’t be able to bond with anyone else, unless your bond with Harry is broken.”


“How does a bond break?” Ginny asked.


“One of you would have to die.”


Silence fell in the kitchen. Borgin looked at Ginny and Harry and sighed. To be so young and be put through so much, he thought. Fighting to keep the guilt out of his mind, Borgin pushed his chair back and stood up. It had been agreed he should reveal enough to convince them, but not too much to scare them. He knew it was vitally important Harry and Ginny agree to this, but he had fought hard to let it be their choice. He just hoped they still talked to him when it was all over.


Ginny took a deep breath. “Can we talk about it?”


“Of course,” Borgin said. “I will see you in a few days,” he said as he walked around the table toward the kitchen door. “You can tell me your decision then. Just so you know, I haven’t mentioned this to your parents, Ginny, or to the entire Order. Dumbledore knows. So does Snape.”


Harry head jerked up. “Snape? Why does Snape know?”


“Because Snape is quite knowledgeable on the subject of Blood Bonding,” Borgin replied.


Harry gritted his teeth. He wasn’t sure he liked the idea of sharing something that seemed so personal with anyone, least of all his most hated professor. He could just see Snape using this information for some horrible, twisted use.


Nodding to Ginny, Borgin turned the doorknob and stopped. Turning around, he reached into his pocket and drew out a rectangular parcel. “I almost forgot. I know this is early, but happy birthday, Harry.”


Surprised, Harry reached out and took the parcel. “Thank you.”


“Open it,” Ginny urged.


Harry turned the package open and ripped the paper at the seam. The wrapping slipped off to reveal a book bound in soft brown leather. Turning it over, he read the title, The Three Musketeers. He smiled. “Thanks.”


Borgin grinned and nodded. “One of my favorites. Enjoy!” Opening the door, Borgin stepped out into the summer sun.


Harry flipped open the book. Nathan had written an inscription on the back of the front cover.

Harry —

Fighting the good fight is always easier with friends.
Happy Birthday

Nathan Borgin



Suddenly, Ginny pushed her chair back and stood up. She quickly walked to the kitchen door and opened it. Stepping out into the bright sunshine, she held up her hand to shield her eyes.


“Professor?” she called.


Nathan stopped and turned around.


“Professor,” Ginny repeated, running up to him. “You said I would need to apprentice with another Mediator, and Mediators are hard to find. Do you know one?”


Borgin nodded. “I think you’ll like her. She certainly likes you.”


++++


The sunshine hurt his eyes as Harry stepped out of the kitchen. Squinting, Harry looked in the direction he had seen Ginny disappear. He had watched her catch up with Borgin, talk to him for a moment, then turn and head off through the garden. Borgin had watched Ginny go, too, before resuming his path. Harry wasn’t sure why the professor hadn’t Disapparated to his flat in Diagon Alley or even used the Floo. Then again, Harry wasn’t sure he was all that surprised, either. Some things about Nathan Borgin were just downright Muggle in nature. Judging by what Ginny had said about his mother’s passion for all things Muggle, Harry figured it might be genetic. If it was, and it simply had skipped a generation in the Weasley brood, he wondered if any kids he and Ginny had would be doomed. Kids, he thought. Yeah, he smiled. He could see kids.


Returning to the present, Harry headed through the garden, slightly annoyed Ginny hadn’t come back into the kitchen to talk. He found her, leaning against a gnarled old apple tree. Ginny turned her head at the sound of the grass rustling.


Seeing Harry, she tried to smile, her face pale in the bright sun, her eyes moist with unshed tears. His annoyance melting away, Harry pulled her to him, wrapping his other arm around her. He realized he was kind of used to getting huge life altering plots dropped in his lap. While he was not sure this was a good thing, he could understand the mind-numbing shock that must be running through Ginny right now. It was coursing through his veins, too, but he had practice with this. He tried to think of something to say, but everything he thought of sounded so inadequate in his mind, that in the end, he simply held her until he felt her trembling stop.


Ginny shifted her head so her cheek rested on the soft blue cotton of Harry’s t-shirt. Her breathing ragged, she wiped at the dampness on her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she looked up at Harry.


“I’m so sorry, Harry,” she whispered.


Surprised, Harry looked at her. “Sorry? Sorry for what?”


She sniffled and wiped at the dampness on her cheeks. “You’re really stuck with me now. I mean, when you first got here and walked out of my room and I yelled at you through the window, I meant it when I said you were stuck with me. But I didn’t mean it like this. Damn it, Harry, you can’t seem to have anything in your life that is just yours to decide!”


Harry blinked at her. “Ginny, aren’t you in the same boat? You didn’t have a choice either.”


Ginny shrugged her shoulders. “I don’t mind, all that much.”


Harry snorted. “All that much?”


Ginny sighed. “You know what I mean.”


I don’t mind. Ginny didn’t mind being stuck with him, baggage and all. Harry thought his heart might break with the love he felt for her. Harry closed his eyes and held on tight. They stood there for several minutes, gaining strength from each other.


“Thank you,” Ginny said quietly.


Surprised, Harry opened his eyes and looked down into Ginny’s face. “For what?”


“For being here.”



“It’s all part of the deal,” he said smiling softly down at her.


“The deal?”


“Yeah, you put up with me and my fate, I put up with you and yours.”


Ginny hiccupped and giggled. “Fair enough,” she agreed, “but it sounds like we don’t have much choice in that.” Taking a deep breath, Ginny leaned her forehead on Harry’s shoulder, enjoying the strength there. “I’m sorry, these stupid tears. I don’t even know why I’m crying.” She felt Harry nod in sympathy. “I guess I’m just surprised and angry and terrified and — and excited, too.” Ginny lifted her head and looked up at Harry. “Does that make sense?”


Harry nodded solemnly. “To me, it does,” he said quietly.


Ginny placed a hand on the side of Harry’s cheek. “Yes, it would, wouldn’t it?” she said. Drawing her hand back into her chest, Ginny rested her head back on Harry’s shoulder. “Can we stay here a while?” she asked.


Harry didn’t answer; he simply tightened his hold on her and closed his eyes.


+++++



Sleep did not seem to be on Harry’s agenda tonight. Punching his pillow, he rolled over to face the wall, listening to the sounds of the Burrow and thinking about the day. Ginny constantly amazed him. He remembered back to when he had first learned his life wasn’t necessarily his own and how angry he had been for so long. He had always known she was an incredible person, and today she had astounded him once again.


Sighing, he flopped back onto his back.


Tink!


Harry rolled over.


Tink! Tink!


Harry pulled the blankets over his head.


Tink!


Harry sat bolt upright in bed and grabbed his wand from under his pillow. Reaching over for his glasses, he quickly put them on and looked around the room. It was empty.


CLUNK!


Harry realized something was hitting his window. Heart thumping madly, Harry cautiously opened the sash and peered over the windowsill. A sudden sharp pain exploded in his forehead, causing him to jerk upward banging the bottom of the window with the back of his head. “OW!” he exclaimed, clamping one hand to his forehead and one to the base of his neck.


“Harry? Are you alright?” Ginny whispered.


Harry opened an eye and looked down to see Ginny standing below his window, her arm cocked back ready to pitch what looked like another rock at his window. Removing his hand from his forehead, he checked for blood. A few drips were present from what felt like a cut at his hairline. He snorted. Just what he needed, another scar.


“Harry?” Ginny repeated.


“Gin, what are you doing? Are you okay?” he asked.


“Trying to get you out of bed! Come down here,” she said, motioning for him to join her outside.


“It’s the middle of the night!”


“Were you asleep?”


“Well, no, but that’s not the point!”


“Come on, Harry. Please?” Ginny pleaded.


“Fine, okay. Hang on,” Harry said. “I’ll be right there.” He pulled his head in and shut the sash. Pulling a jumper over his t-shirt, Harry slipped on his shoes. Ginny was waiting for him by the kitchen door.


“You’re dressed,” he observed, slightly annoyed.


Ginny ignored him and grabbed his hand. Tugging him forward, she smiled. “Alright, close your eyes.”


“Why?”


“Come on, Harry, it’s a surprise!” she pleaded.


“Okay, okay. They’re closed.”


Ginny took Harry’s hand and led him past the broom shed, into the garden, all the way to the grove in the back and stopped. Looking up at Harry, Ginny smiled shyly and said quietly, “You can open your eyes now.”


Harry opened his eyes to see paper lanterns hanging in the branches of the trees, flickering light jumping from lantern to lantern. Under one tree, a soft crackling emitted from a mass of wires and knobs sitting on top of a rock. Letting go of Harry’s hand, Ginny walked over and banged the rock with her palm. The static was replaced with a soft swaying melody and Harry smiled in surprise.


“That’s a radio!”


“It’s my dad’s. He, uh, fixed it,” Ginny answered, her impish grin sliding back into a shy smile. Ginny dropped to a quilt on the grass and pulled Harry down next to her. Leaning back, Ginny pulled two packages from behind the rock the radio rested on.


“Happy birthday, Harry,” she said holding out the parcels.


Harry looked at the gifts in surprise. His birthday wasn’t until tomorrow, and after what had happened today, the last thing he had expected was presents for him.


Ginny smiled at him. “Come on, Harry. Open your presents!” she urged, pushing them into his hands, her giggling anticipation becoming contagious.


Grinning, he took the gifts and gave Ginny a quick kiss on the cheek. Setting the thicker of the two aside, Harry undid the ribbon and pushed aside the brown paper. Nestled in tissue, was the picture of his dad and Sirius, the corners flattened, the crease ironed, in a polished silver frame. Harry smiled at the two friends and then at Ginny.


“Thank you,” he said softly.


Ginny nodded. “I thought you might like to take that back to school,” Ginny said.


Leaning over, Harry propped the picture on the rock next to the radio and picked up the other parcel. Tearing the brown paper, Harry turned over a book and read, Modern Hexology — A Practical Guide to Today’s Most Useful Hexes. Harry chuckled.


“I’ve marked a few I think would be good to learn,” Ginny asserted.


“I’ll get to work on it as soon as possible,” Harry grinned.


Silence fell between them as the trees danced in the soft evening breeze to the music swirling upwards. Harry looked at Ginny who was picking at a loose quilt piece, slowly unweaving the pattern, thread by thread. Reaching over, he placed his hand on hers.


“Are you okay, Ginny?” he asked softly.


Ginny looked up at him and tried to smile. She settled on nodding. “I will be,” she said softly. “How about you?”


“I’m sorry, Ginny,” Harry said, not knowing what else to say.


“Harry, why should you be sorry? This isn’t your doing,” Ginny stated as she wove her fingers in between Harry’s. “Besides,” she said, smiling slightly, “most couples would love to have as much as we do in common. I mean, on top of being smart, good looking and Gryffindors, we’re both on Voldemort’s Top 10 list,” she said, grimacing at the use of the Dark Lord’s name.


Harry snorted. “That’s not really funny,” he said.


“Yeah,” Ginny agreed, “but if I don’t laugh, I’m going to cry and I’d rather laugh. In our old age, I don’t want you to look back on your seventeenth birthday and only be able to remember me soaking the front of your shirt.”


“I wouldn’t mind, you know,” Harry said sympathetically.


Ginny cocked her head to the side and smiled at him. “I know you wouldn’t. That’s why I love you.”


“Do you want to do it? The Blood Bonding?” Harry asked.


Ginny took a deep steadying breath. “I don’t want to think about it tonight, Harry. I will think about it tomorrow. Right now,” she said, standing up and brushing the grass off her jeans, “I owe you a dance from the recognition dinner. I’m a little late in asking, but would you do me the honor and dance with me on your seventeenth birthday?” she asked, holding out her hand.


Harry took Ginny’s hand, letting her help him up. Ginny led him to the middle of the glowing lantern light. Wrapping his arms around her, Harry closed his eyes and swayed to the music, soaking up all the goodness that Ginny brought with her. He had everything he wanted on his seventeenth birthday right here.


“Ginny?” he asked softly.


“What? Is something wrong?” Ginny asked, concerned, leaning back so she could look into his eyes.


“No, nothing’s wrong,” he rushed to assure her, accepting her need to forget for just a little while. He pulled her closer, if that was possible. “This — this is perfect. Thank you.”


Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes. “You’re very welcome, Harry,” she whispered against his lips.


Suddenly, Harry realized they were stopped in front of the rock holding the radio and the picture of James and Sirius. Pulling away from Ginny, Harry leaned down and laid the photo face down to the rock. Straightening up, Harry grinned at Ginny.


“So…where were we?”


++++


A/N — Thank you, thank you, thank you to my betas, wvchemteach and pavartipatil. It makes sense because of you two!

This is posting a little early because I am off on Spring Break starting Thursday. Unfortunately, I will not be laying on a warm sandy beach, gazing up at a palm tree, drinking drinks with paper umbrellas in them. Instead, I will be watching my children be spoiled rotten by their grandparents back in the Midwest. It’s not the spoiling I mind so much. It’s the deprogramming when we return home that I dread.


Next update (most likely the end of next week)…Happy Birthday, Harry


Enjoy!


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