CHAPTER TWELVE: DISCOVERIES

"Harry!"

Harry heard the voice on the very edge of his consciousness. The rest of him was too comfortable to bother with it. God, why did he feel so good?

Harry felt a smile lift the corners of his mouth as he remembered everything that had happened last night. Just thinking about it was causing stirrings that had absolutely nothing to do with the way his hangings were rustling right now.

"Hmm." Harry sighed and drew Ginny more tightly into the protective circle of his arm, luxuriating in the feel of her skin against his; the silken feel of her hair where it lay, fanned out across his chest.

"Psst! Harry!" The voice again – and it wasn’t Ginny’s.

Harry’s eyes snapped open and he winced as full daylight slammed into his eyes, sending a bolt of pain straight into his brain. From the quality of the light it had to be close to noon.

Harry shaded his eyes, squinting up for the source of the voice. The curtains were being held back by a pair of hands. Above the hands Harry could just make out Neville’s round, anxious face peering in at him anxiously.

"Jesus, Neville!" yelled Harry, yanking the spread up over his and Ginny’s entwined forms. "What the bloody hell are you doing here? What time is it? What happened to the Imperturbable charm?"

"They wear off if you don’t renew them, but Harry, come on! I’ll explain everything later, just get her out of here, hide her, something! I heard them downstairs, someone in Ginny’s dorm reported her missing, McGonagall’s on her way up!"

"McGonagall?" said Harry, stunned.

"Bloody Hell!" exclaimed Ginny, who appeared to have woken up. She sat up abruptly and began poking around in the tangled bedclothes. "Where’s my wand? Harry, can you find a wand? Doesn’t matter which just hand it to me!"

"Morning Neville!" she said brightly as Harry joined her in sifting through the sheets.

"Afternoon actually," said Neville with a lopsided smile.

"Gin, I can’t seem to find-"

"For heaven’s sake, Neville, can I see your wand?"

"Downstairs in my bag," said Neville apologetically.

"Oh never mind," snapped Ginny exasperatedly before closing her eyes, balling her fists as she scowled in concentration and, with a puff of displaced air, turned into a sleek calico cat with golden eyes.

"Bloody hell!" yelled Harry and Neville together.

The cat winked at them, leapt lightly off of Harry’s bed and settled herself onto Neville’s just as the door burst open and Ron came striding purposefully into the room followed by a slightly flustered looking Hermione and Professor McGonagall looking very tall and stern.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Potter, having a bit of a lie-in I see," said Professor McGonagall dryly.

"I . . .er . . .overslept," said Harry lamely.

"And he’s alone, Professor, just like I told you he would be," said Ron with a self-satisfied nod. "She must have been making things up."

"Who’s making things up?" said Harry and Neville in unison.

"We’ve looked everywhere else, Mr. Weasley," said McGonagall firmly. "And the Fat Lady says that she hasn’t seen her come out yet today. And I must admit," she said, advancing into the room, "that after finding that both Mr. Potter and Miss Weasley had missed both their morning classes and the fact that neither one of them has yet been seen leaving Gryffindor tower is rather suspicious and tends to lend credibility to her story."

"Who’s story?" asked Neville.

"But Harry’s here!" said Ron triumphantly, ignoring Neville. "So everything’s all right, yeah?"

"And Ginny’s just walked off the face of the planet then, has she?" asked Hermione acidly.

Ron’s ears went pink, but he answered her stoutly. "Look, Hermione, just because Ginny didn’t come back to her dormitory last night doesn’t mean she necessarily spent it up here!"

"I never said she did!" snapped Hermione. "Jessica Hamilton, the sixth year prefect, she reported Ginny as missing this morning at breakfast. And then after two of her teachers reported her as missing classes I had to report her to the Headmistress! What else could I do?"

Ron opened his mouth, probably to tell Hermione exactly what else she could have done, but Professor McGonagall chose just that moment to speak up.

"You did exactly the right thing, Miss Granger. The safety of our students is of utmost importance, and that means checking in at the appropriate times and alerting the proper authorities if alternative arrangements prove to be necessary. What I would like to know is why you did not report Mr. potter as missing after he’d missed his morning classes Mr. Weasley?"

"Well, I wasn’t too worried, was I?" said Ron, shrugging. "I knew Harry’d been up late. I figured he’d decided to skive off classes, you know, have a bit of a lie in."

"As admirable as your loyalty to your friends is," said Professor McGonagall in a sharp, brisk tone. "Exceptions are not to be made for those closest to you. A rule is a rule, and I expect all rules put into place by this institution to be honored regardless of who it is that is breaking them. Do I make myself understood? Mr. Weasley?"

Ron muttered something indistinct.

"If I catch you at it again, Mr. Weasley, you will loose your badge. Is that understood? As for you!" she said, rounding on Harry. "I want you out of bed this instant. This is a school we’re running Mr. Potter, not a private hotel! You’ve missed all your morning classes and will be lucky if you are not late to your afternoon sessions as well."

"I . . .er . . .Professor . . .you might want to . . ."

"Out of bed Mr. Potter, now please," snapped Professor McGonagall.

From behind him, Harry could hear Neville sniggering.

"Professor, I really don’t think you want me to-"

"It doesn’t matter what you think of the matter, Mr. Potter. I want you out of your bed, now."

Harry cast a sideways look at the cat, who lay purring smugly on the end of Neville’s bed, her eyes slitted as she kneaded Neville’s comforter. Harry shrugged and swung his legs out of bed, going from a sitting to a standing position in one fluid movement.

Hermione dropped her wand.

"Bloody hell, Harry, when’d you start sleeping starkers?" yelled Ron, snatching a sheet and tossing it to Harry.

Several items, including Harry’s wand, fell out of the sheet and clattered, or fluttered to the floor and, to Harry’s horror, McGonagall managed out to catch to one of them before he could.

"And when, may I ask," said Professor McGonagall in a rather peevish tone, "did you begin collecting ladies undergarments?" She raised her wand – on the end of which had been impaled a pair of Ginny’s white lace knickers.

Ron stared at the incriminating piece of fabric for a full ten seconds before he spoke. "You’d be surprised at the sorts of things Fred and George’s fake wands turn into," he said in a rather strained voice.

"I’ve got two rubber chickens now," volunteered Neville brightly, "as well as a tin parrot, a pirate flag and a honking daffodil that plays ‘God Save the Queen.’"

"One they gave me just turns into a pair of briefs with fat black Quaffles all over it," said Ron glumly.

From the corner of his eye Harry saw Hermione quickly scoop something up and pocket it as McGonagall looked from Ron to Neville to Harry and back again before sighing deeply.

"Fine then. Detention Potter, for missing two classes with no excuse. Eight O’clock. Saturday night. My office." She turned on her heel, marched to the door then paused, looking around at them with her hand on the doorknob. "If any of you hears from Miss Weasley, please let me know immediately." And with that she was gone.

The door had barely clicked shut behind her when Harry found himself pinned to the wall, Ron’s arm at his throat, his other hand brandishing Ginny’s knickers in his fist.

"What have you been doing with my sister!" Ron growled, his face was scarlet, his expression furious.

"What are you doing?!" shouted Neville springing forward, but Ron shook him off.

"Seeing as that I just saved his arse, he’s going to answer a question for me. Are you shagging my sister?" spat Ron, his face was now an alarmingly dark red and was even more disturbing being seen from just a few inches away.

"Let him go Ron!" cried Hermione, tugging ineffectually at Ron’s arm. "He can’t tell you anything if he can’t breath!"

The pressure of Ron’s arm eased up slightly and Harry spluttered incoherently for a moment, sucking great gulps of air into his lungs. He was about to answer when, with a soft pop, Ginny appeared perched on the end of Neville’s bed where the cat had been a moment before, her hair tumbling over her shoulders in a cascade of brilliant fire. She was wearing nothing but a smile.

"Of course he is," said Ginny sweetly."

For the second time Hermione dropped her wand, but somehow Harry didn’t think it had anything to do with what Ginny had said.

An odd mixed of emotions seemed to be vying for possession of Ron’s features. He settled at last on a combination of shock and anger.

"I answered your question you great prat," said Ginny contemptuously. "Yes, your little sister is shagging your best mate. Happy now? Tell me something Ron, what did you think we were going to do, hold hands for a whole year?"

Ron opened his mouth, but the only thing that came out was a thin sort of squeak. "Ginny?"

"No, I’m the bloody Queen Mother."

"I – you’re-" spluttered Ron.

"What, not of age?" said Ginny, standing up and stretching her back with a wince. "If I remember correctly Lavender was only what, sixteen? And I don’t recall that stopping you, you hypocritical eel."

From behind him Harry could hear Neville’s muffled laugh.

"I didn’t . . .we never . . .Ginny you – you’re-"

"What?" said Ginny challengingly. "I’m what Ron? What exactly am I?" she was standing toe to toe with him now, her eyes snapping furiously. "What’s the matter Ron, cat got your tounge?"

"Jesus Ginny, you-you’re-"

"Beautiful," breathed Harry, grinning broadly. Even stark naked and furious she was absolutely gorgeous.

"Naked?" suggested Neville.

Harry handed her the robe from the back of his chair and she slipped into it with a grateful smile.

"You’re an Animagus," said Hermione in an awed voice. "That’s really difficult magic Ginny, how long have you been able to turn?"

"Sirius taught me," said Ginny, shrugging. "The summer before my fourth year. He said he thought I had a natural ability, but he-" she glanced sideways at Harry, then added, "he wasn’t able to finish our lessons and I didn’t dare try it on my own until just this past summer.

"I-" Ron swallowed, looked from Ginny to Harry and then sank onto Neville’s bed with a groan, his head in his hands. "Harry, mate, I’m sorry," he said in a muffled sort of voice. "I know that you – that you wouldn’t hurt her, I saw those knickers and I sort of . . ."

"Lost it," said Harry, rubbing ruefully at his throat. "Yeah, I noticed. Look, Ron, if it’s any consolation, I love her."

"I think everyone knows that," said Neville unexpectedly with a twisted half smile.

"You two are so stupid!" said Hermione suddenly. "Here is you’re sister suddenly revealing the fact that she’s an Animagus and all you can think about-"

"She’s my sister, Hermione," said Ron, looking up at last. "No matter what kinds of magic she can do, she’s still my sister and I worry about her, you know?"

Hermione nodded - a softened expression on her face.

"I’ll tell you what else I am," said Ginny quietly, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder. He looked up, his eyes oddly bright. "I’m not only your sister, I’m in love with your best mate and I’m probably in a hell of a lot of trouble for being out of my dorm last night without McGonagall knowing what exactly it was that I was doing."

"I get it," said Ron, grinning up at her. "I won’t be reporting you – at least not yet."

"Ah, blackmail," said Ginny, grinning back at him. "About time you had something on me I suppose."

"But Ginny," said Hermione quite suddenly. "You’ve told McGonagall, right?"

"Are you kidding?" said Ginny, staring at the older girl incredulously.

"Not about this," said Hermione, waving at Harry dismisively. "I mean, about being an Animagus."

"Why would she want to that?" asked Ron bluntly.

"She has to!" Hermione insisted. "It’s the law! She has to register herself with the Ministry of Magic!"

"I’m not registering with that lot," said Ginny, her lip curling.

"You know they’re still holding Stan Shunpike?" volunteered Neville. "There’s a petition out now though, asking the Scrimgeour to at least give him a trial. Gran signed it just before we came back to school."

"Well, that’s a start," said Harry frowning. "But Ginny’s right Hermione, she can’t register with the Ministry."

"Of course she can," said Hermione dismisively. "Professor McGonagall will know how to do it and-"

"Are you listening to me, Hermione?" said Harry and something in her voice got through to her and Hermione stopped talking abruptly. "If she registers now she risks the chance of the other side finding out about it. You said yourself back in third year that the records of those who register are open to public inquiry."

"Well . . .yes, but-"

"Ginny is already enough of a target, Hermione," said Harry quietly. "Anyone associated with me is a target, but the last thing we need if for someone like Snape to find out about Ginny being an Animagus."

"I – I don’t understand," said Hermione in a small voice.

"Look, Hermione," said Ginny, putting her hand on the older girl’s shoulder. "Being able to transform is a tactical advantage, right?"

"Well yes, of course, but the Order would never ask you to spy for them or anything."

"The other side doesn’t know that," put in Neville. "Harry’s right, they would target her just so that the Order couldn’t use her."

They all looked at each other for a full minute before the bell signaling the end of lunch broke the silence.

"Well, that settles that," said Ron grimly. "Ginny’s being an Animagus stays inside of this room. I’d suggest that both of you both report to your next classes before you get in any more trouble. Ginny, I’m going to have to tell McGonagall that we found you."

"I’ll tell her," said Hermione briskly. "It will sound better coming from me. If you tell her she’ll assume you’re covering up for Harry. Come on, Ginny," she said, tugging on Ginny’s arm. "Everyone’s going to be up in a minute. You don’t want to be seen. And here, your wand." Hermione reached into her pocket and pulled out Ginny’s wand, which Harry realized must have been what Hermione had picked up off the floor. "You’ll be needing this."

Ginny twisted her arm out of Hermione’s grip, snagged Harry by the neck and kissed him deeply. "See you later Potter," she said, smiling into his eyes. "Provided McGonagall doesn’t give me the death sentence."

* * *

"So, what’s the damage?" Harry asked as he slid onto the bench beside Ginny at Supper five hours later.

Ginny was thumbing through a copy of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi, scowling at it as if it had personally insulted her.

"A week’s worth of detentions," she said darkly. "Out in the greenhouses with Madam Sprout. She’s supposed to have gotten a large shipment of Levitation Leeks and needs someone to help her milk them."

"Good thing its Sprout," said Ron, flopping down on the bench across from them and lobbing a roll at Ginny, who ducked.

"Why good?" asked Harry.

"Because, she goes to bed at what, eight O’clock?" said Ron, looking to Neville for confirmation.

"Nine most nights," said Neville, shaking his head.

"See? So at the worst she’ll be putting in about three hours a night. You’re supposed to report at six, yeah?"

"Still three hours wasted," grumbled Ginny.

"Er . . .Ginny," Hermione was staring at the book in Ginny’s hands, a small frown creasing her forehead. "Aren’t Levitation Leeks the ones that look like . . ."

"Yes," said Ginny quickly, her scowl deepening and a slight flush creeping up her neck. "And if that’s not bad enough you have to . . .er . . .stroke them to get them to release their milk."

On the other side of Ginny, Neville made a choking sound.

Harry snatched the book from Ginny and began flipping through the pages.

"You don’t think she knows?" said Hermione in a low voice.

"She suspects," said Ginny shrugging. "why else would she have assigned me to help Sprout with a plant that not only looks like . . ." she cleared her throat and shot Harry a sideways glance. "But one that, well, you know, even it’s scent acts as an aphrodesiac."

"Aphro – what?" said Ron blankly.

"Aphrodisiac," said Hermione, sounding as usual as if she had swallowed the textbook. "A very powerful but naturally occurring producer of endorphins, particularly those that stimulate reproductive urges."

"Try that again," said Ron slowly, putting down his fork. "Only in English this time."

"The Levitation Leek gives off a scent that tricks the body into wanting sex," said Hermione, her face now a brilliant pink. "It is very powerful. Prolonged exposure keeps the person handling it in a continued state of sexual arousal."

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron. "And Sprout’s going to have her working with these things for a week? That would be like-"

"Torture," said Ginny, nodding grimly. "Which makes me think McGonagall knows."

"But then, why did Harry get off so light? I mean, he just got the one detention."

"And twenty points from Gryffindor," Harry reminded him, looking up from the book "she told me after Transfiguration."

"Yeah, well, it still wasn’t so bad, considering."

"Harry only missed two classes," said Ginny resignedly, switching her fork to her left hand. "I on the other hand not only missed two classes, but was out all night." She sighed deeply, dropping her right hand into her lap, then added in a petulant, little girl voice. "I’ve been a very bad girl and will have to mend my ways."

Harry, who was the only one aware of where, exactly Ginny’s right hand had come to rest was relieved of the necessity of maintaining a straight face as Ron, Hermione and Neville all laughed loudly.

"Walk me down to the greenhouses?" Ginny murmured in his ear as the others resumed their suppers. "I’m supposed to report to Sprout by six."

Harry, who had lost all interest in his supper agreed readily and ten minutes later she was finishing what she’d started at supper behind greenhouse three.

"Damn, Ginny, that was bloody brilliant!" moaned Harry when she finally came up for air.

"You liked it then?" she asked demurely, standing and straightening her robes.

He kissed her for answer, holding her hands above her head by the wrists, effectively pinning her in place against the greenhouse wall with his lower body as he kissed her deeply, feeling her arch against him, trying to get even closer. He could taste himself on her lips and he marveled at the things those lips – that tongue – had been doing to him just moments before.

"I’ll take that as a yes," said Ginny, her voice now husky with desire as Harry nuzzled the side of her neck.

"I suppose I should be insanely jealous," Harry murmured into her hair.

"Jealous? Of what?"

"Of the lucky guy you perfected that technique on," said Harry, grinning down at her.

"Then you’ll have to be jealous of yourself Mr. Wizard," said Ginny. Her voice was teasing, but the look on her face was deadly seriously. "That was what would have to be called a maiden voyage."

Harry glanced reluctantly at the watch on his wrist. "I’d suggest returning the favor," he murmured, kissing the tip of her nose. "But it’s seven minutes until six and we’re both in enough trouble as it is."

"Save it," said Ginny, grinning wickedly. "I’m going to need it after tonight."

"I’ll be here when you get out – I’ll bring the invisibility cloak."

"How will you know when I’m done?"

"Neville said nine," said Harry, releasing her reluctantly.

"Tell you what," said Ginny in a brisk, business-like tone. "Do you still have the cordless extendable?"

Harry pulled out the pouch and shook out the small disc. "What are you going to do?"

But Ginny already had her wand out and was muttering under her breath, poking at it with her wand tip.

"There," she said finally. "It should work both ways now. I just opened the incantation."

"So I can hear you now? Just like you can hear me?"

Ginny nodded, touching the hoop in her hear and grinned at him cheekily. "Exactly."

"Cool!" Harry held the extendable up to his ear, grinning broadly. "Hey, Gin, isn’t it going to be sort of weird, holding my hand up to my ear all the time?"

Ginny looked at him thoughtfully before removing the small hoop from her left ear. With a deft twist she removed the disc already on it, held Harry’s disc up to the pointed end, muttered a few words and slid the disc smoothly onto the hoop.

"Now then, Mr. Potter," she said in a perfect imitation of Professor McGonagall’s brogue. "Have you ever considered taking your turning your cool factor up a notch by adding an earring to your already considerable attractions?"

* * *

Two minutes later Harry was studying his reflection in a small mirror Ginny had produced from her schoolbag. It reflected a small gold hoop with an even smaller disc attached to it and it looked, at least in his opinion, not half bad.

"What do you think?" he asked, turning to Ginny. "How does it look?"

"Sexy as hell," growled Ginny low in her throat as she looked him up and down. "Dashing and dangerous at the same time, I knew you could carry it off!"

"You know," said Harry, poking at his earlobe with a finger, "I was afraid it was going to hurt. Muggles use needles, you know."

"Needles?" said Ginny incredulously. "Muggles actually poke holes in their ears with a needle?" she shivered slightly.

"Well, they can’t just say the spell like you did," said Harry shrugging. "But I think I prefer it this way."

"Now, Harry, if you want to hear me, just rub the disc like this," she demonstrated on her own, "on the side with the raised pattern on it. To turn it off, do the same thing on the smooth side."

Harry rubbed the disc.

"So you’ll let me know when you’re done?" he said, grinning as he heard his own voice coming back to him in a whisper from the disc on his ear.

"You’d better believe I will," said Ginny, kissing him fiercely. "After three hours in the company of Levitating Leeks?" she said loftily, "If you’re not here, I’ll come hunt you down myself!"

* * *

"I still think you should have picked a lightning bolt," said Neville, grinning at Harry over the top of his Transfiguration essay. "You know; lightning bolt scar, lightning bolt earring, make it a matched set."

"He looks like a poofter," grumbled Ron, scribbling the last few lines of his own essay and tossing it aside with a sigh of relief. "Bloody stupid assignment. How on earth is she going to read through three rolls of parchment for each of us?"

Hermione, who had of course finished the essay the day before, looked up from her Rune translation and gave Harry an appraising look. "I stand by what I’ve been saying for the last week," she said finally. She dropped Harry a surreptitious wink behind Ron’s back and said, "you look good enough to eat, Harry."

"That’s not what you said before!" said Ron, whipping his head around so fast that he appeared to have cricked his neck.

"Well something along those lines," said Hermione, shrugging.

"First time you saw it you said he looked dashing, not good enough to eat."

"Did I?" said Hermione innocently, turning a page in her Rune dictionary.

"Dashing, delicious, they both start with a ‘D’," said Neville from behind the pages of Advanced Transfiguration.

Harry groaned and put his head down on his arms, lightly smudging the last two lines of his essay.

"You’d think that after a whole week they’d have found something else to talk about" came Ginny’s barely audible voice from the disc in his ear. Harry grinned into his arms, imagining her milking the Levitating Leeks – she’d explained the process to him in detail over the weekend, and Harry personally thought that half of the discomfort probably came from the process of getting the milk, not just the scent or pheromones or whatever that they exuded.

He’d had his own detention in McGonagall’s office on Saturday night, reading through over a hundred first years’ essays on the theory behind turning beetles into buttons and correcting them for content. He’d found it deadly dull, and had emerged after four hours with a splitting headache, which was probably due to the background of bagpipe music she’d had playing in the background more than a result of reading through the essays.

Sunday Ron had called for an all-day Quidditch practice. Harry thought this had been going a bit far, seeing as that they weren’t due to play their first game until the second weekend in November, but Harry bit his kept his silence, looking forward to supper and a few hours in Ginny’s company. Harry had talked Dobby into packing him a picnic lunch and they’d wandered off into the grounds, making sure to be back before Ginny’s ten O’clock curfew.

It was now Wednesday evening, the fifth and final night Ginny would be required to spend in the company of Professor Sprout and the Levitating Leeks. The Cordless Extendables were all fine and good, but he was looking forward to being able to spend time with Ginny in the evenings again.

He could ignore the snide comments by the other blokes about his earring when he had Ginny to take his mind off of things, and the girls with their lingering glances, would think twice about approaching him overtly as Romilda Vane had just last night. They didn’t do more than look when he was with Ginny. Harry groaned again as he remembered the previous evening.

* * *

"You and Ginny broken up then?" Romilda had asked, eyeing his earring with an approving glance.

"You wish" had come Ginny’s voice in his ear. Harry had repressed a snort with some difficulty.

"Why, you interested?" Ron had said maddeningly before Harry could answer.

"I’m always interested," Romilda had said saucily, tossing her head and batting her eyes at Harry. "And I haven’t seen her around lately, so I figured maybe . . .she’d paused, her eyes raking him from head to toe, "maybe you’re back on the market."

"Like a piece of meat," came Ginny’s voice, sounding disgusted.

"You figured wrong," said Harry told Romilda shortly, unable to keep the grin off his face.

"Then why haven’t I seen her around in the evenings?" Romilda had asked boldly.

"She’s in detention," Harry had said with a warning glance at Ron who threw up his hands in defense, a look of high amusement plastered across his thickly freckled face.

"Oh, pity." Romilda had stalked off grumpily, leaving Harry to growl at Ron who was now laughing fit to burst.

"Back on the market!" Ron had chortled, wiping the mirth from his eyes. "Oh god, I should get you a price tag, Harry, hang it from your ear."

Harry’d had to threaten him with telling Romilda that it had been he, Ron, who had eaten the love-potion filled chocolate cauldrons she’d given Harry the previous year before. That had shut Ron up for a while, but it hadn’t lasted, and he was still chuckling every time he looked in Harry’s direction so Harry had finally given up and gone down to the greenhouse an hour early.

* * *

"So why did you choose a disc?"

Neville’s voice brought him back to the present with a snap. Harry raised his head from his arms to find Neville watching him with interest.

Of all the seventh-year Gryffindor boys, Neville alone had come out as saying he actually liked the new addition to Harry’s wardrobe though he admitted he’d never dare try it himself. "My grandmother would kill me!" he’d said rather wistfully when he’d first seen it.

Ron, on the other hand, had hooted with hysterical laughter, saying that all Harry needed now was an eye patch and he could pass himself off as a pirate, which was better than the comments being made by Dean, mostly behind Harry’s back and of quite a derogatory nature. Seamus had shrugged the whole thing off, saying he thought it looked ridiculous, but that he had observed that the girls all seemed to like it, which is why he assumed Harry had done it and commended him on his foresight.

Harry opened his mouth to answer, but Hermione beat him to it. "He picked the disc because it matches the ones Ginny wears of course," she’d said airily.

Ron turned his head back to Harry, observing him critically this time. "She does have hoops like that, doesn’t she? In fact," he reached out and touched the disc with a forefinger, "I think she used to have a bracelet that matched them, just a bunch of discs on a chain, but they looked a little like this one."

"That’s right, she did," said Hermione, standing up and coming around Harry to take a closer look at the disc. "And I haven’t seen her wear it – well – since this summer I guess," she added slowly. "Hold on, those are runic symbols!" said Hermione, her eyes going wide. She scurried back to her seat and began flipping through the pages. "Look Harry, see? The runes on your disc, it says, ah, ‘heart’ and ‘blood.’ But the order, it’s inverted, so it’s possessive, the translation would be ‘heart’s blood.’ What do you think it could mean? Harry?"

But Harry wasn’t listening. His brain had frozen on the words "heart’s blood." He’d heard those words before – seen those words before, but where? And why would they be written on the disc Ginny had originally put in his pouch?

"Harry, where are you going?" Hermione’s voice cut through the turmoil of thoughts in Harry’s head; thoughts that were leading his feet upstairs, to his trunk, to the two books that were kept at the very bottom, wrapped in old towels and hidden beneath a layer of rubbish that no one in their right minds would bother sifting through.

"Give me a minute," he called over his shoulder, and mere moments later he found himself flipping through the pages of Thicker Than Water looking for something . . .yes!

Much has been written of the Life Bond, that ancient magic which bonds one wizard to another when one wizard saves another’s life. It is understood that in situations of this sort, the one rescued owes to their rescuer a life debt. It has been said that the Life Bond is magic at its deepest and most mysterious level and yet there is one level of magic that goes beyond the Life Bond and that is the Soul’s Blood Bond.

Like the Killing Curse, the Soul’s Home, the Matriarchal Charm and the First Blood Bond, the Soul’s Blood Bond is impenetrable magic (meaning that its origins are shrouded in mystery and that once incurred there can be no reversing the effects). With the exception of the Soul’s Home, the Soul’s Blood Bond is the only spell which can be strengthened over time. Unlike the Soul’s Home, it does not require the death of the witch or wizard to increase the spell’s power.

Harry frowned at this, trying to recall what Ginny had been reading to him the night he had found her in his bed. It had been something about the Soul’s Home, he remembered that, but what had she said?

. . . .In order for it to be cast at all, the castor has to spill their own blood – not to death, but in ‘willing sacrifice’ and then it’s worked into the charm . . . .

That didn’t sound like it required the death of the witch or wizard – but this was talking about a death being needed to strengthen the spell. Harry shivered as the realization of the depth of magic he was dealing with here finally began to sink in.

Was it possible that Professor Dumbledore had died on purpose? Was it possible that he had been sealing the Soul’s Home charm, or perhaps strengthening it for the protection of his students – for Harry’s protection? But that would mean that Snape . . .

Harry shook his head, unwilling to even consider the fact that Snape was anything other than a cold-blooded killer. But if he was . . .why didn’t he kill me at Grimmauld Place when he had the chance? Harry wondered and suddenly he felt sick and shivery. No, he’d been there, he’d seen it with his own eyes; Dumbledore had begged Snape to help him . . .no, he’d merely said "Severus, Please . . ." and then Snape had killed him, just like that. What was it that Dumbledore had been asking Snape to do? And what was the name of a powerful bonding charm doing engraved on the disc that Ginny had given him? Scowling slightly, Harry turned back to the book.

Like the Life Bond, the Soul’s Blood Bond does not require any incantations or potions to be activated. It is one of those few pieces of magic which is triggered entirely by the actions of the witch or wizard; in this case by one witch or wizard not only risking their own life to save the life of another, but shedding their own blood in the process.

Unlike the Life Bond, in which the life debt owed by the one rescued may be repaid by saving the life of the rescuer, the Soul’s Blood Bond can not be repealed or repaid. It can, however, be strengthened.

If the one whose life was saved initially in turn sheds their blood in saving their rescuer’s life, a rare event called Doubling occurs. In these rare instances of Doubling, the bond between the rescuer and the rescue does not simply even out (as is the case in a standard Life Bond) but doubles, strengthening the original bond in ways that stretch the boundaries of magical comprehension.

For example, nearly every instance of Soul Bonding known to wizarding kind has occurred between those who have doubled the Soul’s Blood Bond, although there is some controversy over whether the Doubling was the catalyst for the Soul Bonding or whether the original bonding was induced because of the instinctive soul attraction between the two individuals.

Harr y closed the book, his hands shaking slightly. Did this mean what he thought it meant that he and Ginny shared a bond? Was what they had; was what he felt for her simply due to the fact that he had risked his own life to save hers once upon a time?

"No," Harry whispered, staring at the gilt-edged book in his lap. "There’s more to it than that."

"More to what?" Ginny’s voice in his ear made him jump, he’d completely forgotten about the disc – about the fact that she could hear him. For a full minute he sat, contemplating what to say. She’d obviously stumbled across the description of the Soul’s Blood Bond a while back, recognized it for what it was and had engraved it on his disc to identify the disc her corresponding disc as the one that connected her to himself.

"I – I was just reading about the Soul’s Blood Bond," Harry said, his voice was shaking slightly. "Hermione read the inscription off of my disc."

"Yes, I heard her," said Ginny softly. She gave a deep sigh that sounded almost sad. "I was wondering when you’d make the connection."

"Doesn’t it bother you?" Harry burst out, unable to contain himself. "Doesn’t it bother you to think that everything we have-" he paused, his voice catching in his throat, "that everything we feel for each other might be because of – because of some stupid spell?"

"It’s no because of the spell," said Ginny firmly. "I You had read about it, weren’t you, and you were thinking about what we have when you said that ‘there’s more to it than that,’ weren’t you?"

Harry nodded his head, remembered that she couldn’t see him and then said, gruffly, "yes."

Harry remained silent for a moment, trying to understand what she was trying to say.

"Ginny, I don’t understand . . ."

"Did you read the last part," asked Ginny calmly. "The part about possibility of the original bonding being due to the two Souls’ natural attraction to each other?"

"Yeah."

It did feel right, much more right than the thought of it being an activated piece of ancient magic drawing them together in spite of themselves.

"You saying that you think we would have ended up together anyway, even without the bond?" Harry asked quietly.

"I don’t think we would have, Harry, I know we would have."

She was right, Harry thought, smiling to himself as he put away Thicker Than Water and headed back to the common room. They would have ended up together; there was no getting around it. She’d said it all in the letter she’d put in his pouch. He belonged to her now. Harry glanced at his watch and grinned broadly as he saw that it was almost nine O’clock. Time to go meet his fate.

* * *

Ron breezed into the library just as the last of the afternoon light faded from the high mullioned windows and flopped into the empty chair beside Hermione.

"Hey, you lot, you do realize that we’re going to be late for the Halloween Feast if we don’t get a move on? Ten minutes guys!"

"Really Ron, the Halloween Feast?" said Harry in mock surprise, not looking up from the notes he’d been reading. "You mean the same event you reminded us about an hour ago?"

"And at lunch after McGonagall announced that afternoon classes were canceled," put in Hermione from behind a large sheaf of parchment.

"And after Charms," interjected Harry.

"No, that was during Charms," corrected Hermione. "Remember? I was trying to practice that Haze charm on him, the one that makes your mind go all fuzzy."

"Yeah, it’s supposed to leave you open to suggestion," said Harry, sniggering

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around his neck from behind. "Let me guess," said Ginny, her breath tickling Harry’s ear. "Hermione tried to suggest that he stop thinking about the Feast and he went right on talking about what he was looking forward to eating."

"Cor, Gin, how’d you guess?" said Ron, sounding amazed.

"You’re my brother, Ron," said Ginny, and Harry could feel her smile against his cheek. "As long as I’ve known you there’s nothing that can come between you and your food."

"Except his fingers," muttered Harry.

"Hey, that was an accident!" said Ron indignantly.

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"How the bloody hell was I supposed to know that those weren’t regular Every Flavor Beans?" growled Ron. "Some best mate you are, Harry, giving me Fred and George’s Jumping Beans!"

"You bit your fingers?" chortled Ginny gleefully. "Really?"

Ron held up the bandaged fingers of his right hand and Ginny went into gales of laughter, finally collapsing into the chair beside Harry.

"You gave them to him Harry? Oh god, I can’t wait to tell Fred and George that they worked!"

"I’m surprised they haven’t gotten in trouble for those Jumping Beans!" said Hermione with a disapproving sniff. "Someone could get seriously hurt!"

"Oh come off it, Hermione," said Ginny, wiping at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. "How many people do you think would try to catch the things in their mouths and end up biting their own fingers instead?"

"Well . . ." Hermione took Ron’s bandaged fingers in her hand and gently kissed the tips. "They should just be more careful is all."

"God," said Ginny, rolling her eyes at Harry. "I do believe I’ve just lost my appetite."

"Damn, I almost forgot about the feast!" cried Ron, grabbing Hermione’s hand and tugging her out of her chair.

"Ron, I have to pick these up," protested Hermione, gesturing to the table strewn with parchment."

"You two go on," said Ginny brightly. "Harry and I can clean this up. You want them in your trunk, Hermione?"

"Yes please, if you don’t mind. Are you sure, Ginny? They were all ordered and everything."

"I think between Harry and I we can manage," said Ginny with a dismissive gesture. "Go on, Hermione, before he busts a gasket or something."

"You sure, Ginny?" said Hermione anxiously.

"Go on," said Ginny with a grin.

Harry watched them go; Ron rearing at the bit.

"Honestly," said Ginny, waving her wand across the table in a broad, sweeping gesture. The various pieces of parchment flew together in neat stacks, the leather bands Hermione had used to secure them, knotted themselves tightly. "You’d think he hadn’t eaten in years or something."

"Excellent!" said Harry appreciatively. "Was that a Packing charm? Tonks used that once on my trunk."

"A variation of," said Ginny. She waved her wand again. "Evanesco Relegatio– Hermione’s trunk."

The stacks of parchment vanished, leaving the table as clean as it had been when Harry and Hermione had sat down at it just after lunch.

"Er . . .Ginny? Wasn’t that a vanishing spell?"

"And a banishment charm. They’re now in Hermione’s trunk."

"But couldn’t you have used just the banishment charm?"

"Sure, if you don’t mind detailed notes dealing with advanced Dark Magic soaring through the halls," said Ginny brightly.

"But won’t they still be invisible?"

"What? Oh yeah, Revelare! There, now they’re visible again, thanks!"

Harry shook his head. Sometimes Ginny’s aptitude with spellwork was spooky; especially when she made them look so easy! Her Bat Bogey hex was magnificent. Harry had seen it several times, and it never failed to impress him, and then on the train, when had it been, the beginning of his fifth year? She’d cleaned up all the Stinksap with just a wave of her wand. It took most people several tries to clean up a mess of that size, and Ron had problems with even small messes.

"What?" said Ginny, catching his look.

"How do you do it?" said Harry wonderingly.

"Do what?"

"Spells like that – from a distance? It’s supposed to be lots harder. And that thing you did with the parchment . . .I mean, even Tonks has problems with that one. She bundled everything into my trunk every which way. But you," he waved a hand at the nearly bare table, "everything nice and neat and presto, back to where it was, ordered and everything."

Ginny shrugged. "Dunno," she said lightly, turning away from him under the pretense of picking up the quill Hermione had left on the table. "I’ve never really had to think about it." Her voice was quite steady, but Harry noticed that the hand she reached out for the quill was trembling slightly.

"Ginny," said Harry sternly, taking her by the shoulders and turning her to face him. "This is me you’re talking to."

"Harry, I-"

"Mr. Potter, I will ask you once to release that young lady before I report you to your head of house!"

Madam Pince’s sharp voice made them both jump guiltily. Harry released Ginny at once. He turned to find Madam Pince standing over them, her hands on her hips, glaring at them as if she had just caught them desecrating her precious books.

"I should report you anyway . . .a clear breach of regulations . . .excessive public show of affection!"

"Er . . .sorry!" said Harry, standing quickly and picking up his own bag clutching it against his chest almost defensively.. He’d never forgotten the two of them being chased out of the library while being beat around the head by his own things and didn’t care to repeat the performance.

"Excessive public show of affection?" said Ginny, gaping at Madam Pince in disbelief. "He was barely touching me!"

"I will tolerate no funny business within these hallowed halls!" screeched the librarian, rounding on Ginny with her teeth barred. "You are here to study, Miss, not to spoon!"

Spoon? Harry stared at the librarian, transfixed. She seemed completely deranged. Her gray hair was coming out of its usual prim knot, several strands hanging limply against the wrinkled skin of her neck.

He took a step backwards and stumbled over his chair. Ginny caught him by the arm, which seemed to infuriate Madam Pince even further, she raised her wand and they ran for it, arms over their heads to ward off the sudden shower of spoons that came raining down from overhead.

* * *

The Great Hall had, as usual, been decorated magnificently for the Halloween feast. Hagrid had outdone himself with the pumpkins. Several of the largest had been carved into Jack-O-Lanterns so large that a first year could easily walk through the gaping mouths without having to duck. Clouds of live bats swooped among the rafters never once running into any of the hundreds of floating candles or gently bobbing pumpkins that someone had magicked into mid-air.

But neither Harry nor Ginny, who were both quite out of breath by the time they reached the Great Hall, took note of the decorations. Both of them were still dodging the odd spoon that leapt out at them from the shadows and a rather largish silver serving spoon gave Harry a nasty clunk on the top of his head before he was able to immobilize it and throw it aside. It sailed right through Nearly Headless Nick, who gave Harry a long-suffering look before swooping down to take his place at the end of the Gryffindor table.

"Spoons!" spluttered Harry, collapsing onto the bench beside Hermione. "She chased us with spoons!"

Ginny, who was giggling uncontrollably slid in beside him.

"Who chased you with spoons?" said Ron thickly around a mouthful of chicken.

"Madam Pince," said Harry, grinning broadly at Ginny whose giggles had turned into full-fledged whoops of laughter as she removed a small silver teaspoon that had become tangled in her long mane of hair. She placed it on the table where it flopped about feebly, gave a final shiver, and lay quite still.

"That would explain this then," said Hermione, reaching to the back of Harry’s collar and removing a very solid looking silver ladle that had lodged itself in the back of his robes. "Seeing as it is highly doubtful that you would have put this there yourself."

"Real spoons?" said Ron, looking from the ladle in Hermione’s hand to the now lifeless teaspoon in front of Ginny, to Harry, who was rubbing the top of his head and wincing.

"Why spoons?" said Hermione, examining the one she held with mild interest.

"Be-because" spluttered Ginny, who was laughing so hard now that tears were running down her face. "Because she thought we were spooning!"

Ron, who had just taken a drink of pumpkin juice promptly sprayed it across the table, earning him a disgusted look from Lavender Brown who was sitting across from them beside Dean. Dean solicitously cleared her plate with a flick of his wand and she began serving herself fresh helpings of food.

"Oh get a grip, Ron," said Hermione, as Neville, who was sitting on Ron’s other side, thumped him hard on the back. "I’m sure they weren’t doing anything wrong, not in the library."

Harry, who could remember several rather interesting occasions during the last couple of weeks when he and Ginny had been alone in the deserted stacks, avoided making eye contact with Ginny for fear of setting her off again.

"We’d just finished cleaning up," said Harry, pointedly spearing a baked potato and putting it on his plate. "I asked Ginny a question – had my hand on her shoulder, nothing more – and Madam Pince just-"

"Exploded," said Ginny, who was now taking deep breaths in a desperate attempt to bring her giggles under control. "She – oh god, she said-" Ginny snorted with laughter and mopped ineffectually at her streaming eyes.

"She said we were showing ‘excessive public display of affection,’" Harry finished with a shrug.

"She’s mad!" said Ron, staring at them both over the top of his goblet.

"Yeah, well, I sort of figured that," said Harry dryly.

"No funny business within these hallowed halls!" crowed Ginny in a perfect imitation of Madam Pince’s infuriated tones, and then slumped against Harry, once again overcome by the giggles.

"She said that?" asked Hermione turning to Harry, her eyebrows raised. "She actually called the library ‘these hallowed halls’?"

"Barking," said Ron, shaking his head.

"I can only assume she meant the library," said Harry, helping himself to a steak and a large helping of peas.

"Here, Harry," said Ginny, reaching down to one of the outer pockets of her own bag and pulling out a rather dented table spoon that had wedged itself into the pocket, handle first, "Do you need a spoon for your peas?"

From the other side of Ron, Neville snorted so loudly that across from them, Lavender jumped.

"Luna keeps saying Madam Pince has got Gondrallies in the brain," he said grinning

broadly at them behind Ron’s back.

"Gondrallies Neville?" said Hermione skeptically. "You don’t seriously believe-"

"Of course I don’t, but you know Luna," he gave a smart salute with a potato filled- fork to the girl sitting across from him at the Hufflepuff table.

Luna smiled back serenely, raised her glass in response, and promptly turned it over, pouring its contents deftly onto Susan Bones’ plate. Susan shrieked and fell off her bench, pumpkin juice dripping down the front of her robes.

"A libation to the god of foreplay," said Luna in a dreamy voice that carried across the hall.

Neville turned bright pink and hid his head behind a special Halloween edition of The Daily Prophet.

"Speaking of mad," murmured Ginny in Harry’s ear. Harry, who had just taken a largish bite of steak, choked and was thumped on the back in turn by Hermione.

For all Ginny’s hilarity, however, it hadn’t escaped Harry’s notice that she had barely touched her food. She’d pushed her chicken and vegetables around on her plate, but hadn’t really eaten much of anything. Instead, once their laughter over the spoons had died out, she’d spent most of the evening staring with morbid fascination at the jack-o-lantern hanging almost directly over their heads; by some trick of the light its eyes, which were cut in a diamond shape, were glowing red instead of gold.

Come to think of it, she’d been quieter than usual for the last few weeks. She still smiled and joked and joined in with the conversations, but her usual joviality had been rather subdued, almost as if . . .as if she had something on her mind . . .something that was bothering her.

"What up, Gin?" Harry wondered as McGonagall waved her wand, causing all of the house tables to fly up against the walls, clearing the floor for dancing as the musical group she’d booked for that evening’s entertainment took their places on the golden-draped stage.

"I’m fine!" she said, hitching an unconvincing smile onto her face.

"Don’t give me that, there’s something bothering you. You’ve been staring at that pumpkin all evening."

"Maybe I find him attractive," said Ginny, her eyebrows raised and a touch of her usual humor in her voice. "You have to admit, he does have a rather alluring smile."

"Yeah, and I’m attracted to Moaning Myrtle," retorted Harry. "Come on Gin, let’s skive off the dancing. Take a walk with me?" he suggested, nodding his head towards the double doors that led to the Entrance Hall. They slipped out unnoticed in the general uproar caused by the first number, barely avoiding Filch who was stalking back and forth across the back of the Great Hall as if on guard duty.

"I never can tell," murmured Ginny as the crossed the Entrance Hall and let themselves out of the great oak doors, "if he’s just putting on an act, or if he really hates the students."

"Hates them," said Harry promptly. "Didn’t Ron ever tell you about Filch being a squib?"

Ginny stared at him. "Really? I mean, I’ve never seen him do magic really. I guess I just thought he was a lousy wizard. If he really is a Squib, well, that would explain a lot."

"Especially his not wanting to see magic in the halls," said Harry, nodding.

Ginny didn’t answer. They’d reached the edge of the lake which was now a deep liquid black, its mirror-smooth surface reflected the scattering of stars above them and she was staring into its depths as if transfixed.

"Look, Gin," said Harry, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her tight against his side, "something’s bothering you."

Ginny shivered, wrapped both her arms around him and buried her face in his robes.

"Oh god, Harry, I’m so scared," she whispered, so low that he had to bend his head to catch her words.

Scared? Did she think something bad was going to happen or (Harry felt his heart trade places with his stomach) was it because of – of what they’d been doing? He thought she’d wanted what they had as much as he did. She had certainly seemed willing enough but maybe she was having second thoughts . . .

"Ginny," Harry swallowed, wet his lips and tried again. "Look, Gin, if you’re not ready for this-"

Ginny’s head snapped back, her eyes flashing. "What the bloody hell are you talking about, Potter?"

Harry stared at her, bemused. "I – you said that you’re scared and, well, you’ve been so quiet lately, I thought you were talking, you know, about us . . .and, well, if we’re going too fast . . . ." his voice trailed off and he found himself staring down at the darkly glistening rocks that bordered the lake here.

A moment later Ginny had his face bracketed in her hands and had turned it to hers.

"Harry James Potter, get that idea out of your head right now!" she said severely. "I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life!"

"Yeah?" said Harry. His heart was back in its proper location.

"Of course ‘yeah’ you great prat!" she said with a smile and then kissed him.

"God, Gin, you sure know how to warm a bloke up," said Harry breathlessly a few minutes later. "But you still haven’t explained why you’re scared."

Ginny turned her head away to look out over the lake.

"Ginny?"

Ginny took a deep breath. "I love you Harry, you know that, right?"

Harry nodded.

"Its just – I don’t want to have any secrets from you Harry, you mean too much to me, and I’m going to tell you this, even if-" she paused, her voice catching in her throat. "Even if it means that . . .Harry, I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t . . .if you couldn’t bring yourself to – to want me – after I tell you . . ."

"Ginny," Harry had her by the shoulders now, concern etching a furrow in his forehead. She was shaking, and it wasn’t from the cold. "Ginny, look at me." He put a finger under her chin, raising her head until she was looking at him. "I love you Ginny Weasley, now and always. Nothing is going to change that! I don’t care if you were to tell me right now that you’d been raped by Voldemort himself, I’d still love you!"

To Harry’s complete and utter astonishment, Ginny burst into tears, throwing herself into his arms and sobbing uncontrollably into the front of his robes. After several minutes, during which Harry held her, thoroughly nonplussed, Ginny’s sobs eventually died away, but she still clung to him as if he were a lifeline.

"I – I always feel weird, you know, on Halloween," whispered Ginny finally, her voice barely audible for being muffled against his chest. "That was the first time – the first time that Tom . . .that he took me over."

Confused, Harry continued rubbing her shoulders. Why was she bringing up the Chamber of Secrets now?

"Well, it was the first time I realized that something was wrong anyway. He must have taken me over when I killed the roosters too, but I didn’t think it was too weird, I mean, one minute I was visiting with Hagrid, the next I was back up at the castle a half hour later with feathers all over my robes. I just thought – I thought I must be tired, you know."

Ginny reached into her pocket, pulled out a tissue and blew her nose.

"But that Halloween I was up in my dormitory, getting ready to go down to the Halloween Feast and then it was midnight! Six hours just – gone! Well, that’s when things really started getting weird. It took me the longest time to stop trusting that diary," Ginny whispered. "I didn’t want to think that Tom would do something like – Harry, he was the only real friend I’d ever had!"

"Friend?" said Harry, intrigued in spite of himself, "Ginny, he tried to kill you," and me.

"I didn’t know that then," said Ginny, shaking her head. "I didn’t understand. The only think I understood was that he was kind to me – yes he was!" she insisted, seeing the look on Harry’s face. "At least at first he was. He listened Harry. No one else had time for me. Ron would brush me off and Fred and George, if it isn’t wizzing or banging they loose interest in it in minutes. Well . . ." she shrugged against him and gave him a wry smile. "I was lonely, and he was my friend. Or at least he made me think he was; which to an eleven-year-old-girl amounted to the same thing."

Harry felt a sudden twinge of guilt. Why hadn’t they paid more attention to Ginny that year? True there had been a lot going on, but it wouldn’t have been, not if they taken the time to include her, make her feel wanted – loved. If they had, perhaps none of the events second year would have happened.

Ginny sighed deeply. "It wasn’t until Christmas that I realized that the things he was saying in the diary – that they must have something to do with my big chunks of missing time. That the ideas that had begun to rattle around in my head – the ones that worried me so – that they were really his. Then, when you found it," she shuddered again. "When I saw you had it – I freaked out - I realized by then that I’d been influenced by some sort of Dark Magic, but I was afraid that you’d find out somehow, that I’d be punished, maybe kicked out of school. I had to get the diary back."

Harry shivered slightly, remembering his ransacked belongings. They’d all been repaired easily enough, but for Ginny to actually do something like that, perhaps the diary – or Tom through the diary – had already been influencing her, even before she got her hands on it again.

"I kept missing chunks of time," said Ginny quietly, her voice shaking. "And then, at the end, I knew! He took me over, and I stayed awake and aware. I watched him walk me down to the Chamber, god it was cold in there." She shivered involuntarily.

Harry pulled her closer, trying to share his body heat. She was shaking like a leaf. She was also crying again, the tears silently spilling down her cheeks.

"And then – then he came right out of the diary-"

"His memory," said Harry automatically.

"No," whispered Ginny in a shaking voice, "he was real, Harry. He-he touched me."

"He didn’t have a body," said Harry, frowning. That was right, he remembered it clearly the apparition of Tom Riddle had been fuzzy around the edges; but solid enough to pick up his wand. Voldemort – or the part of Voldemort that had been inside of that diary had been sapping Ginny’s strength, her very substance, using her to become more powerful, more solid. Had he been solid enough to . . . Harry shivered involuntarily. "He touched you?" He looked down, but Ginny had her face buried in his robes again and suddenly it clicked; everything she’d been saying tonight;

"He did more than touch you Ginny, didn’t he," said Harry quietly.

He’d realized the first time they made love that Ginny wasn’t a virgin, or at least not technically a virgin. It had crossed his mind to wonder who had been the first . . .Michael . . .Dean . . . whoever it was, he envied them. Oh god how he envied them. He had only himself to blame for not getting his act together sooner, he knew that, so whenever it would cross his mind to wonder, he’d tell himself sternly that it didn’t matter; not really. She was with him now, that’s all that mattered. But this . . .! Voldemort . . .

Harry swallowed hard. It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t something she’d had any control over. Voldemort used her . . .used her like he’d used so many others and it was only because of Hermione’s discovery about the Basilisk traveling through pipes that Harry had thought to look in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom; that he had found the faucet that really wasn’t a faucet at all; that he had found the Chamber and pure dumb luck that had enabled him to find Ginny at all, not to mention some marvelous maneuvering by Fawks that had allowed him to rescue her.

"Harry?" Ginny’s smooth, cool hand was on his face, wiping away a lone tear that he hadn’t realized was making it’s way down his cheek. "I wanted you to know . . ." she paused and drew in a great, shuddering breath. "I knew the first time we made love that you’d realize that I wasn’t . . .well, I didn’t want you always wondering who it was, getting jealous and all of that. I’ve never . . ." she hesitated, biting her lip, "I’ve never made love to anyone else Harry, ever. You were the first."

Ginny’s eyes in the moonlight were large and luminous and Harry felt his heart ache as he thought of everything she’d gone through . . .because of him . . .because of Voldemort . . .it took him a moment to realize that Ginny was talking again.

"Did you read the book?"

"Book?"

"Yes, the one on Binding Charms?"

"Er . . .yeah, actually, I did," said Harry, surprised by this turn in the conversation.

"Do you remember reading about the First Blood Bond?"

"Yes, but Gin what-"

She held a finger up to his lips, silencing him. "Did you read the bit on how to recognize if the spell has been performed correctly?"

Harry nodded. Of course he remembered. There had been several Binding Charms listed that had also been listed in the book on Blood Magic seeing as that they were binding charms that relied on the blood of the participants in order to be effective. The First Blood Bond was one of these. A translation of an ancient Latin text had been included in The Ties That Bind, and Harry remembered wrinkling his nose in distaste at the archaic speech in which the spell had originally been written.

"It was said of old that the blood of the virgin womb has the power to protect from mortal harm he who is first to spill in it his seed." The text had gone on to explain that when first discovered, this ‘natural protection’ combined with the complex charm known as The First Blood Bond, had the effect of protecting the male against the worst effects of most harmful and mortal curses.

It appeared that one of the main affects of the charm was to cause the woman to act as a sort of lightening rod; absorbing most of the spell into herself, thus leaving the man free to continue whatever it was that he was doing.

It had been dreadfully misused in ancient times with power-hungry men forcing themselves on young women, performing the complicated charm that bound the woman to him, making her a sort of human shield. This abuse was one reason that this particular bit of knowledge had been restricted for centuries. The text went on to say that while the protection extracted by force was powerful, that the same protection willingly given, was counted to be " . . .equal even to that of the Matriarchal Charm in which the mother willingly exchanges her life for the life of her child."

Harry’s forehead furrowed slightly as he tried to remember the end of the chapter in which the signs of a properly cast First Blood Bond could be recognized.

"First there’s the tingling under the skin, but that’s when the spell if first performed. Later it can be verified by-ow!" He pulled his hand out of hers, staring uncomprehendingly at the drop of blood welling up out of his thumb. "Ginny, what . . .?"

"Oh stop being such a baby," she said with the ghost of a smile as she pocketed the pin she’d used and then showed him her own thumb on which a drop of her own blood was gleaming. "You didn’t hear me yelling."

"Well you were expecting it," said Harry defensively. "I wasn’t."

"I bet you weren’t expecting this either," said Ginny softly, and pressed their thumbs together, holding her wand over their hands she murmured "Revelare."

It was as if a many-peatled flower made entirely of bright white light had suddenly unfolded from the spot where their thumbs touched, wrapping around their joined hands to form a net of pure light. And then, from the heart of the flower there rose a single, blood red flame that burned clear and steady above their joined hands.

"Finito," murmured Ginny, and the light died away, leaving them standing in what now seemed to be quite dim starlight. "I was right," she said seriously, staring at where the flame had been just a moment ago. "It worked!"

"Ginny, I-" Harry stared at her, at a loss for words. What had she done? Did she realize what she had done? It was a gift beyond anything Harry had ever received before – unless you counted his mother’s sacrifice; priceless; a gift that could be given once, to one person, and never again. Could Ginny know what it meant, binding herself to him in such a way? Did she understand that this was something that couldn’t be reversed? Did she really love him that much?

"I understand perfectly," whispered Ginny softly. She was standing very close to him now, her body just touching his. "Besides, you already bound yourself to me by saving my life."

"I-"

"It’s your turn to be rescued, Mr. Wizard," Ginny interrupted, smiling again and this time her smile was radiant, lighting her up from the inside. "Let me repay my debt."

"Ginny-"

"No, Harry," said Ginny softly, placing a finger on his lips. "I told you, you’re mine now, and I refuse to give you up without a fight. If that means fighting beside you – or giving you a slight advantage by taking the brunt of a curse meant for you, then so be it."

Harry closed his eyes feeling awed and honored and very slightly sick. He’d promised himself that no one else would get hurt and now Ginny had gone and done this.

"You could be killed, Gin! If I don’t doge it, if someone gets past my guard . . ."

"Then don’t let them," Ginny advised. "Look, Harry, I wasn’t going to tell you at all, but it was the only way to prove to you – and myself - that Dumbledore was right."

"Dumbledore?" said Harry blankly.

"Yeah, right after – after what happened in the Chamber - he told me that regardless of how realistic it felt when Tom took me over, that in all the ways that matter, it wasn’t real. You don’t know how much that meant to me . . . there were times . . .sometimes I still have dreams about it, you know, but then I would remember what Dumbledore had said, and it made me feel better – hopeful." Ginny shivered slightly. "And now I know he was right – and you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that there has never been anyone else – not really. This is my gift to you Harry. Now I belong to you as much as you belong to me."

"We belong to each other," Harry whispered. He took Ginny in his arms then and, holding her tightly, feeling the solid realness of her body against his, he felt a surge of emotion so deep, so powerful, that he felt his grip on her tighten reflexively, as if he were afraid that he was going to be washed away. Harry felt a shudder pass through his body, as if the surge of emotion had been transmuted into physical form.

What is it? Harry wondered silently, his eyes closed and his face pressed against the chill silkiness of Ginny’s hair. He wanted her – god yes, there was hardly a moment when he didn’t want her, but this – this went way beyond mere passion and was as far removed from simple lust as it was possible to get. It felt so big – so all-encompassing; so complete that took his breath away.

Harry, I – I think its love, Ginny’s voice was breathless, awed and filled with a wonder that was so strong, Harry felt that he could almost taste it. What else can it be but the physical manifestation of unconditional love?

It was a full minute before Harry realized that Ginny had responded to his silent question, and more than that, she had replied not in words that he could hear, for she had not spoken aloud, but somehow, incredibly, he had heard her response in his mind; felt it in his heart, felt it as even now he could feel the wonder flowing through her as she became aware of what had happened and for tonight, here, and now, it was enough.