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Author: Musings Story: The New Professor Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: WIP Reviews: 4 Words: 160,238
Chapter 10 – The Letter "You imbecile!" Draco snapped, his rage beyond measure. "How could you forget something so…so…basic?" Marcus Flint stood in front of him, the only hint of his nervousness being the sheen of sweat which graced his upper lip, glistening in the candlelight. "We could hear people approaching the cottage. We had to Apparate or risk being discovered. Besides," Flint said, directing a disapproving glance at Zabini and Goyle, "cleaning up after these buffoons was not a part of the job description when I signed onto this little project of yours, Malfoy." Draco's fingers tightened on his wand – oh, how he itched to silence Flint once and for all. Flint had been angling for a position higher in the chain of command, so Draco had given him the task to make their presence known in eastern England. Well, their presence was known, all right. Flint had failed miserably, and his failure could result in the ruination of all of his plans. He rose to his feet and stood within a hair's breadth of Flint. "Cleaning up was precisely what you were responsible to do on this job!" Draco spat. "I remember our conversation distinctly, Marcus. Your role was to insure that you obtained the information we were seeking, to eliminate the witnesses and cleanse the scene of any evidence. Not only did you fail to find out the nature of the charm work the girl was working on, you turned the place into a slaughterhouse, after you'd assaulted the two of them in every way known to humankind! To top it off, you didn't complete the Cleansing charms, so who know what the three of you left behind for the MLES to find!" "We know she was working on something for the Department of Mysteries," Flint said urgently. Draco could smell the fear coming off of Flint in waves. He raised his wand – such a waste, but necessary, "Ava.." "Wait!" Flint said, dropping to his knees, his hands covering his head and neck. "We also found some correspondence." Draco paused. Perhaps he wasn't so useless after all. "What did you say?" "We found letters, Draco! Correspondence in which she was communicating with someone outside of the university." Flint's voice broke, and Draco was glad to know his arrogance had broken. Muffled as it was, Flint's voice was clear enough to discern the importance of what he had to say. "She was writing to Virginia Weasley, at Hogwarts!" Draco smiled. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Two weeks after the start of term, Harry stood on the pitch. His flight robes flapped lightly against his legs in the crisp, autumn breeze as he watched the Ravenclaw and Gryffindor first-years practice their flying. He smiled – some of his fondest memories of his early days at Hogwarts centred around this pitch and his first few flights on a broom. He was filled with pride as he watched his students, paying three of them particular attention. Aidan Moran and Michael Troy from Gryffindor flew as though they had been born on broomsticks. Their fathers, both members of the Irish team Harry had seen at the World Cup the summer before his fourth year, had apparently passed their abilities down to their children. Harry had been pleased to hear that the first-year ban on Quidditch team membership had been abolished four years before, meaning it would be likely that Moran and Troy would make their house reserve team, at the very least, when they attended tryouts the next day. Harry turned his gaze to the tiny figure of Ming Chang as she zipped between two of her classmates. Of all of his students, Harry was staggered at her exceptional abilities – the girl was a natural and had the makings of a Seeker who might, given the necessary support of her team, bring Ravenclaw its first real shot at the Quidditch Cup. He'd received a letter from Cho the other day, asking how Ming was doing. Or, at least, that was the pretense of the letter. She'd felt it necessary to inform Harry of her estrangement from Michael, including a subtle reference to her visit to London the week before the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw game. She ‘looked forward' to seeing him there. "Subtle as a heart attack," Harry muttered to himself, a frown crossing his brow. The truth was he had no interest in getting into the middle of Cho and Michael's failing marriage. Despite the number of years that had passed, Harry was well aware that his fleeting relationship with Cho had been just that: fleeting, and best left back in that moment of time. Besides, all he had to do was look to his left at mealtime to see who he was meant to be with. It hadn't been easy, distancing himself from Ginny since they were seated so close at meals, but he'd had no choice. The memories that had scored his mind the first day of class were enough to remind him of why he couldn't have her, her involvement with Ollivander notwithstanding. He couldn't bear to have her look upon him with revulsion, knowing she'd given herself to a murderer. But shouldn't she have the choice in knowing? an internal voice asked him. He quelled that thought with an abrupt shake of his head. A bell tolled in the distance, signaling the end of classes for the day and snapping his attention back to his students. He pointed his wand at his throat, muttering "Sonorus." "All right, you lot!" he shouted, hands on his hips and peering up into the late-afternoon sky. "Time to pack it in for the day! Return your brooms to the cupboard and head back to the castle for dinner!" One by one, the children descended from the heavens, occasionally stumbling as they landed. He paused, frowning at a pair of Gryffindors horseplaying. "Wilson! Carlin! Come down here at once!" Wilson had attempted a Wronsky Feint (and not doing a half bad job of it). He muttered "Quietus" to bring his voice back to normal volume and tucked his wand into his pocket. He turned to help Robin Finnegan (Seamus' baby sister) back to her feet when he heard a shout from above. He glanced up, only to be horror-struck by the figure of Ming Chang falling head-first towards the earth. Carlin's face was ghostly white, the tip of Ming's broom snagged in the tail of Wilson's broom. Harry broke into a run, not pausing to think, and flung out his hand. "Wingardium Leviosa!" he cried. Light streaked from his outstretched hand towards the child a second before she struck the ground. Her fall slowed slightly, but the little girl still landed with a sickening thud ten feet from Harry's outstretched arms. "Ming? Merlin's beard," he said as he pulled off his flight robe and knelt to pick her up in his arms, wrapping her shivering form in its warmth. She was sobbing quietly, a rapidly-swelling lump forming on her forehead. "We're heading for the hospital wing. Now." His gaze slashed forward to face the two young boys, who had reached the ground and stood stock-still in front of him. "Thirty points each," he said, his voice like ice, "for your dangerous antics, and you will serve detention with me in the team changing rooms tonight!" He was pleased to see the looks of horror on their faces. "If you want to bring that down to 20 points each, you will stay here and make certain all of the broomsticks are back in the cupboard where they belong!" Satisfied he'd made his point, he turned on his heel and strode up to the castle, fear beginning to prickle the back of his neck. She had to be OK. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ginny glanced up from the chart she held. Poppy had asked her to keep watch over the hospital wing for the afternoon while the Hogwarts nurse went into Hogsmeade for supplies. She'd eagerly accepted, looking forward to the chance to don her medi-witch whites again. However, as much she may have missed her work at St. Mungo's, she wouldn't give up her role as a teacher for all of the gold in Gringotts. Teaching was even more than she'd hoped it would be. She'd gotten shivers the first time she'd seen the look of discovery on the first years' faces as their Charm work became more fluid. Her thoughts wandered to her second-year Gryffindor/Slytherin class. The twins, geniuses when it came to Charm work, were holy terrors, their antics oftentimes leaving her breathless. The day they'd "accidentally" levitated Richard Flint had required every ounce of restraint she'd been able to muster to keep from laughing. She'd done her duty, of course: house points and detention with Madam Pince sorting a new shipment of books. Since that day, however, she'd noticed a malevolent glare coming from Flint, which had reminded her all too clearly of his father Marcus' own stares. Her thoughts turned to her first-year Hufflepuff/Ravenclaw class. Although she had had classes with Ravenclaws before, never had she paused to watch them as she did now. An industrious, brilliant group of students, it was evident that they had chosen to take their coursework very seriously, none more so than little Ming Chang. It was hard not to like the little girl, whose face was often so serious she reminded Ginny of Hermione. Ginny knew she shouldn't let her feelings for Cho color her opinion of Ming – the little girl's demeanor was one that made it impossible to find fault. The fact that she resembled Cho so much was the problem, for when thoughts strayed to Cho, they invariably lead to Harry. Ginny had seen Harry with one of his flight classes earlier in the week. The uninhibited joy he'd shown on his face was so vivid it was almost painful to see. It was clear that his students adored him – not only from what she'd seen but from what she'd heard in the hallways and in Gryffindor Tower. Even the twins, never particularly interested in Astronomy before, were suddenly all atwitter about it. She'd also noticed the distance he'd established between them since the feast and had been incredulous when she considered how hurt she'd felt by its presence. Only a few months ago, she hadn't cared to see him ever again in life. Now, in the present light of day, his cryptic comments from the night of the feast had left her puzzled and wondering where things were going, and his present silence only gave her more cause to wonder. Despite her best intentions, she'd only been able to scratch together one completely amicable letter to Christopher, but that was the problem: he was supposed to be her beau, not her brother. She'd finally decided that if she could just see Christopher again she would feel better, so she'd closed the letter asking him to meet her at Hogwarts for the Halloween Dance. It had been three days, and she'd yet to hear back from him. She turned to see Peri saunter into the hospital wing, a jaunty swing to his step. He leapt up onto the window closest to where Ginny was standing and sat down, his great golden eyes blinking with contentment: the setting sun was on his back. He'd adjusted to living at Hogwarts with ease, spending hours in Gryffindor Tower demanding attention from anyone he could find or wandering the hallways so much that his presence around the school was taken for granted. He was a regular attendee at meals in the Great Hall and had shown an irritating affection for Harry, although she suspected that that had something to do with the treats Harry would sneak to the cat when he thought she wasn't looking. Suddenly, the image of Harry sneaking her treats snaked unbidden across her mind. "Professor Weasley? Are you all right?" Abigail Nadeau, her young patient said, snapping Ginny from her thoughts. "You look a little flushed." "Thank you, Miss Nadeau, I'm fine," Ginny said, blinking to clear the images of a long-fingered hand feeding her a grape. She returned her attention to the chart for a moment, then pinned her gaze onto her patient. "Now, I don't think I want to know what you were doing to wind up in this state," she said, eyeing the horns that had sprouted on her forehead, "but I think we can take care of them for you." Just as she raised her wand, she heard the sound of brisk footsteps striking the flagstone floor outside of the wing. "Madam Pomfrey!" Ginny knew that voice. She turned to see Harry stride around the corner, carrying Ming Chang in his arms. "What happened?" Ginny said, tucking her wand in her apron and hastily pulling screens around Abigail Nadeau's bed. "Place her over here, Harry." She gestured to a bed closest to the desk. "A couple of Gryffindors were horsing around as we were winding things up for the day and there was an accident," he said, gently laying Ming onto the bed and turning to face Ginny, concern evident in every line of his body. "I managed to slow her descent a bit, but she's got a rather nasty-looking lump on her forehead." "Did she lose consciousness?" Ginny said, gently touching Ming's forehead. The little girl flinched, tears swimming in her dark eyes. "No, Professor Weasley," she said, her voice sounding slightly desperate, "I've been awake the entire time! Really, I'm OK!" "That's not entirely true, Miss Chang," Harry said, arching his brow at the girl and straightening his waistcoat. He turned again to face Ginny. "I don't think she lost complete consciousness, but she's been well and truly dazed since we left the pitch." Ginny, who'd been noticing the sprinkling of crisp black hairs on his forearms – arms that had held Ming as though she'd weighed no more than a feather – forced her attention back up to his face. What did he say? Oh, yes…dazed. Right. "Let me take a peek and we'll see what's what," she said hoarsely, taking her wand from her pocket. Soft, muted lights gently surrounded Ming's head as she began her Charm work. Ginny glanced up at Harry, who appeared to be transfixed by the lights. "Diagnosing charms, perfectly painless." She spoke several more quick spells and then tucked her wand back into her pocket. "Miss Chang, you're going to be just fine. You've a slight concussion, but it's nothing that a little bed rest won't cure." "But I'm to try out for the house team tomorrow," Ming cried. "How long do I have to stay in bed?" "Just overnight, starting now," Ginny said, picking up her wand and pointing towards the wardrobe in the corner. She Summoned a nightdress from one of the shelves. It landed with a soft flumph onto the bed. "Now, you get changed and into bed. I'll send word to your Head of House, letting her know what happened, and will have some dinner sent up from the kitchens. You're going to be fine," she added, giving Ming's arm a little squeeze as she stood to close the screens. "Professor Potter?" Ming said. Ginny blinked – she'd almost forgotten he was standing next to her, he was so quiet. Almost. "Yes, Ming," he said, leaning down and smiling, "what can I do for you?" "Please don't tell my Auntie Cho," Ming said, her voice trembling. "She's expecting to see me on the pitch for the Gryffindor/Ravenclaw game. I mean, I'm not sure I'll even make the house team, but I don't want to disappoint her either. Please?" Ginny stood stock-still as the silence in the room turned deafening. "Er…all right, Ming," Harry said, a note of hesitation in his voice. "I promise. Now, you get some rest so we can see you flying tomorrow afternoon, OK?" "OK," she said with a smile, picking up the nightdress. Ginny twitched the screens closed and slowly turned to face Harry. "Cho's coming to the match?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Harry looked at her for several moments, trying to figure out if he was embarrassed or irritated by Ginny's tone. He chose the latter. "Yes, apparently, she is, Ginny. I suggest we take this discussion elsewhere," he added, jerking his head towards the screens surrounding Ming's bed. Ginny nodded curtly and led the way towards a room tucked around the corner from the desk. It smelled faintly of rubbing alcohol and essence of murtlap – the supply cupboard. He turned to face her, realizing – too late – that the quarters were quite close. The main benefit of this, of course, was that he could now smell Ginny's perfume instead of the murtlap. Which also meant that he was standing far too close to her. "You've been writing to Cho?" Ginny said, snapping him from his thoughts. "She's written me," Harry said, crossing his arms. "Mostly to ask about Ming. She mentioned that she would be in London for a conference the weekend of the match. That's it." "So you aren't aware of her split with Michael, then," Ginny said, leaning back against the shelf and mirroring his stance. "Letters from Parvati are ever so enlightening, you see." Damn. "By the tinge of color rising on your cheeks, Harry, I'd say she had more to say in her letter than you'd implied just now." "Ginny, what is the point of dragging all of this out?" Harry said, his voice louder than he'd intended. "Yes, she mentioned it, but as far as I'm concerned she could have been talking about the weather in Shanghai. I'm not interested in all that's going on in her personal life. Besides, what does it matter to you? Even if I was interested in Cho again, and I'm not, why shouldn't I move on with my life? You've managed to do so with Ollivander, isn't that right? That is, if the kiss he gave you the night of the fight at the Three Broomsticks was any indication." He paused, gratified to see Ginny looking more than a little embarrassed. "That was…it wasn't…" she stammered, her face turning a deep red. "It was pretty clear to me, Ginny," Harry added. "Yes, we've been seeing one another," Ginny said, looking up into his eyes, "but we're not…I mean that is..." "Spare me the details," he said, cutting her off. "The bottom line is I'm not interested in Cho, despite anything you may have heard from your ‘sources'. And unless you give me a good reason why I should continue my abstinence while you gallivant around with other men, I think we can consider this discussion closed." "I have NOT been ‘gallivanting' around, Mr. Potter!" she said, her voice rising loud enough to echo into the hallway. Harry winced and, raising his wand, muttered a Silencing spell onto the doorway. "For your information, I was horrified at the little display Christopher felt he had to show." Harry arched a brow. "Is that a fact? Funny, you didn't appear to be struggling very much." He'd thought those words many times since the fight, but had never intended them to come out of his mouth. Now, horrified at himself, he reached up to catch her by the wrist before her hand could connect with his cheek. He was blushing, filled with shame that he could have said such a thing aloud. "Gin, I'm sorry," he said, mortified. "You see? It's best if we just keep our distance from one another." Silence fell upon the little room for several moments. He closed his eyes, wishing he could be anywhere else in the world rather than in a secluded little supply cupboard, a foot between him and the woman he wanted beyond reason but could never have. Suddenly, he felt her hand on his forearm. "Harry? Why have you been avoiding me the last two weeks?" "I would think the events of the last few moments would make that abundantly clear, Gin," he said, wearily rubbing his forehead. A crease had formed between Ginny's eyebrows. She rubbed it with the fingertips of her right hand, expelling a sigh of frustration. "Honestly, Harry," she said, "I've been confused since we spoke the night of the feast. You told me that if I wanted to talk about what happened, I should ask. But you've been so cold and distant these past two weeks I'm left to wonder if you meant what you said. I think there are things between us that need to be resolved before either of us can move on. So I'm asking you now: can we talk about what happened?" Harry swallowed. To talk about what had happened the night he'd left meant she would have to know everything. Suddenly weary of carrying the weight of knowing for all these years, he nodded. "Not here, and not now," he said. "The Astronomy Tower, this evening around nine o'clock? I need to supervise a detention with the Gryffindors responsible for Ming's accident right after dinner, but we should be finished by then." A blush spread across Ginny's cheeks and turned her ears pink. "Harry," she said hesitantly, "is it really appropriate..." The sight of her blush made him shiver with memories. He knew she was thinking about their night in the Tower. He nodded. "It's more than appropriate, Gin," he said wistfully. "Thanks for taking such good care of Ming. I'll see you at nine." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Ron looked up from his desk, the latest file of the Neo-Death Eater Murders case before him. He'd been at MLES headquarters for close to 48 hours with very little sleep and not much to show for it. Samantha Bales and Jaime Camisa de Roja were the latest victims of the Neo-Death Eaters. Their bodies were discovered in a cottage in St. Margaret's at Cliffe, a quaint village on the British side of the Eurotunnel. They'd been horribly abused and the Dark Mark had been burned into their flesh as it had been for Lindsay Garthwaite. News of the murders was slated to break in the evening edition of The Daily Prophet, a fact concerning Ron a great deal: Samantha and Jaime had been students with Ginny in France, friends she'd brought home to the Burrow for the holidays one year. Ron remembered Samantha as a bright, cheerful young woman with a ready laugh and a gift at Potions, while Jaime – whose expertise had fallen in the area of Transfiguration – had been brash and fiery, getting along famously with the twins. The evidence left at the scene had been miniscule at best: curse signatures had been modified to diminish faster than usual, effectively masking any possible way to trace the casters. There was, however, one bright spot in the investigation: DNA had been found and was at New Scotland Yard's lab for analysis. Ron smiled to himself: if the analysis brokered any usable results, it would be ironic that this new batch of Death Eaters would be caught through the use of Muggle technology. Steering his thoughts back to his sister, he picked up parchment and quill and started a letter: Dear Ginny, I hope all is going well with you at Hogwarts. I'm afraid I am the bearer of very bad news and I wanted to make sure you received this before you had the chance to see tonight's Prophet. Samantha and Jaime were murdered by the Neo-Death Eaters last night. I remember how close you were to the two of them and I knew you'd want to hear the news from me rather than the media. He paused, chewing on the end of his quill. He wished she had someone she could talk to – to turn to after she'd read the letter. Involuntarily, he thought of Harry and set the quill down, rubbing his eyes. In the weeks following the fight at the Three Broomsticks, he'd done a great deal of thinking about what both Sirius and his father had said. He could hear the reason behind both comments, but how did one look past the pain of a broken heart to see reason? His father's voice echoed in his mind: ‘We don't know what his intentions are, whether he plans on trying to contact us again, anything…The things done in one's youth can be reckless and unthinking of the long term consequences…' Sirius' voice followed: ‘He's coming home, in bits and pieces…I'd hate for you to miss out on an opportunity for a full accounting, and I believe in my heart that he's beginning to recognize that he owes you all just that.' He blinked, disturbed to find a hint of dampness in his eyes that had nothing to do with his exhaustion. What he needed to do was focus on the present: Ginny was going to need someone near her after she heard the news. He picked up his quill and continued: I wish I could be there with you, Gin, but with Hermione so close to her due date I need to stay close by. I'm copying this letter to the twins so they'll be apprised of the situation. If you can't go to either of them, I'm certain Harry would be willing to listen. Yes, I said Harry. He and I need to talk, to come to terms with what happened. He was my closest friend once, and I trusted him implicitly. Even if that trust has been shaken because of the events of the past nine years, I think you and I both know that he is someone we can depend on in a crisis. You'll be seeing me as soon as we are able to bring the newest Weasley home. Please take care of yourself, and know that our thoughts are with you. I am sorry to bring you such bad news. Love, Ron He read the letter through twice and, before he could change his mind, sealed it in a bright blue envelope marked for urgent delivery. Rising from his desk, he walked over to one of the office mail owls, a handsome barn owl named Zeus. "Please take this to my sister at Hogwarts," he said, tying the letter securely to Zeus' leg. "And hurry." The owl gave Ron a soft hoot and sped out the window. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Mid-way through dinner, Ginny glanced over at Harry. His expression was remote, even more so than had been for the past fortnight. She was beginning to wish she hadn't pressed him for a response this evening. Yes, she wanted to know what had happened – needed to know what had happened. But as time ticked by, she realized that she might not like what she would hear. Why? a sneering voice asked from behind the barrier in her mind that housed her memories of Harry. Because you'll discover that your anger and hatred of him all these years was unwarranted? That your own doubts about the decision you made that night may come back to haunt you? "No," she said to herself. She jumped when she felt his hand on her arm. "Did you say something, Ginny?" "It was nothing, really," she said, her eyes flicking guiltily up into his own before returning to her plate of steak and kidney pie. "I've got to go to the changing rooms to prepare for the detention I ordered for Wilson and Carlin." He paused, his eyes meeting hers once again. "We're still on for nine o'clock?" Here's your chance, the voice taunted, your chance to run away again. "Yes, nine o'clock is fine, Harry," Ginny said, louder than she'd intended, for Professor Sprout leaned over to arch an eyebrow at Harry's back. "I'll meet you in the Tower." He nodded and, placing his napkin next to his wine goblet, rose from the table and left. She watched as he walked along the Gryffindor table, stopping when he reached the two boys. After speaking briefly to them, he continued out of the Great Hall. "Ginny," Professor Sprout said, rising from her chair and sitting in Harry's abandoned space, "did you hear that Harry performed wandless magic today on the pitch?" Ginny blinked. "No…no I hadn't heard that. Are you certain?" "Why yes," Sprout said, a conspiratorial gleam lighting her eye, "it was something Dumbledore could do without thinking. Makes me wonder if there wasn't more to the rumours about the final fight with Voldemort." "What do you mean?" "That Dumbledore transferred his powers to Harry before he was killed," Sprout added with a sad half-smile. "We've always known Harry was a powerful wizard, but if he's capable of wandless magic strong enough to slow a falling student, I'd say he's got powers he's only beginning to tap into." Ginny nodded absentmindedly as she reached for her goblet, taking a sip of fine wine. She remembered the first day she'd seen Harry back here at Hogwarts, and how he'd managed to free himself from the Petrificus Totalis charm she'd leveled at his back. She then remembered something from Mrs. McGregor's report to the MLES the night of the fight: "…until the black-haired one raised his hand, pointed it in the direction of the red-haired one and said "Petrificus Totalis!" Heath?…Heath? Do you remember seeing a wand at all? Oh, never mind. Anyhow, when the black-haired one shouted the spell, the red-haired one flew over into the bar…" "Excuse me, Pomona," Ginny said, rising from her seat, "I need to check in on some patients in the hospital wing before I start marking yesterday's quizzes." Once in the hallway, she leaned against the door. There was no need to check on Ming and Abigail – she'd left them both eating dinner and chatting. She'd simply had to get out of there to think. Surely Harry must have known the news of his using wandless magic in class would spread like wildfire throughout the school. She was certain he would want to keep skills of that magnitude to himself. The only thing that could have caused him to openly perform wandless magic was Ming's fall to earth. Almost like clockwork, Cho's face danced on the outskirts of her mind. Angry with herself, she pushed away from the door and began climbing the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower. Ming…Cho…this all had to stop. He would have done that for any of his students, Ginny thought to herself, not just Cho's little cousin. She entered her rooms and closed the door, finding Peri grooming himself on the window sill. She pointed her wand at the fireplace. "Incendio!" she said and, with a sigh, kicked off her slippers, Summoned a pitcher of water over to her desk and sat down. She poured herself a glass and settled in to read the end-of-the-week reports that she'd received from the Gryffindor prefects. Nothing out of the ordinary, for which she was grateful. She spent the next hour marking the quizzes she'd handed out earlier in the week, only disturbed once by Peri's planting himself atop the pile of unmarked quizzes. Her thoughts kept drifting towards her coming appointment in the Astronomy Tower. She'd avoided that part of the castle since she'd arrived at Hogwarts, haunted by the memories it held. Perhaps it was the wine from dinner…perhaps it was the firelight…Ginny found herself staring out of the window, into the distance at the top of a tower she'd come to know well, late in her sixth year of school… Creeping out of the portrait hole clad in her nightdress and Harry's invisibility cloak, Ginny prowled the corridors for hours, searching for Harry and certain that she would be caught out of bounds. The skirmishes that had begun to scar the country had resulted in strict curfew rules for all students. Since the Head Girl and Boy both happened to live in Gryffindor Tower, sneaking out was often impossible. Unless someone spiked both of their bottles of butterbeer with a sleeping draught. In the hour that she'd been out, she'd almost completed her search of the castle with the exception of one tower: the Astronomy Tower. In recent months, Harry's fascination with astronomy had reached a near-fever pitch. Ron often said Harry was beginning to sound like Firenze, with his muttered comments about the positioning of the moon and Mars' brightness. "One look in there and I'll head back to the common room to wait for him to get back," Ginny said to herself. "Then I'll let him have it." She approached the Tower's darkened entryway, a chill snaking down her spine. It was very quiet – almost too quiet. She pushed open the door and, as her eyes adjusted to the light, made out the silhouette of Harry. She tried to close the door as quietly as possible, but the faintest *click* made him jump and spin, pointing his wand directly at her heart. "Harry! It's me!" she said, shrugging off the cloak. "Where have you been? I've been worried sick about you!" "I'm fine," Harry said curtly, setting his wand onto the window sill and returning to stare out into the night. "You weren't at dinner tonight, you've been distant for days," Ginny said. " Please tell me what's wrong." She laid her hand on his shoulder, only to have him flinch at her touch and move towards the stairwell leading to the top of the tower. "I said I'm fine," Harry said, his voice rising. "I need to be by myself, Gin, please just leave me alone." "You're always alone, Harry," she said walking over to stand in front of him, her hands on her hips, a challenge in her eyes. "You need to know you can depend on the rest of us. That you can depend on me. I want to help you." "LEAVE ME ALONE!" Harry roared, the sound of his voice echoing sickeningly against the stone walls. "Please just leave me alone!" He ran up the stairs and, with the slam of the door, cut himself off from the room below. Tears of hurt and anger formed quickly in Ginny's eyes – she and Harry had been through so much, had gotten so close, that this felt like a betrayal of all that had come before. The edge of the Weasley temper started to stain the edge of her vision with a tinge of red. She stormed up the stairs after him. He stood, his upper body suddenly bare, his back towards the stairwell door. "No, I will NOT leave you alone, Harry!" Ginny shouted at him. As he turned to face her, the vision she encountered chilled her very soul. His face was white, his great, green eyes haunted by something terrible. He held his shirt, rubbing frantically at his hands with an almost-crazed intensity. For the first time that night, she felt fear. "Merlin, Harry, what happened?" "I can't get them clean," he croaked. "Oh god, what have I done? What have I done?!" Swallowing her fear, she walked up to him, taking his frantic hands in hers. "Harry, darling, please…you're frightening me." She held tight despite his desperate tugs to free himself. "Your hands are clean, I don't understand." "Gin, please let go," he cried, struggling against her grip. "I can't touch you…never again." While their innocent kisses had blossomed to innocent touches, they'd both decided to wait until they were finished with school before making love. With the war against Voldemort escalating so quickly, they'd struggled to keep their vow. So far, they'd been successful. She jerked him forward, clasping his hands against her body. Frightened brown eyes gazed into tormented green ones. She brought his clenched fists towards her lips, brushing them with a kiss. She pressed loving kisses against the bruised knuckles, his thumb, his wrist. He ceased his struggles for freedom. Taking that as his consent, she separated his hands, placing them around her waist while she raised up on tip-toe to settle a kiss against the hollow of his throat. An unnatural stillness fell over them as they stood on the Tower, only to be broken by the throbbing of Harry's pulse against her lips. She felt his hands tighten on her waist and raised her eyes to meet his. Black with desire (and something else she couldn't fathom) they pierced into hers, willing her to comply. She stared into them for a long moment, realizing, understanding what he was asking of her, before reaching up to claim his lips with hers. …teeth against her neck…the cool hardness of stone against her bare back…blood racing out of control…his hand on her breast…warmth, incredible warmth…electricity racing through her…his kiss, low against her stomach…a moment of pain...blazing- white light…pleasure, unholy pleasure… Ginny gasped, her face flushed, body tight and aching with a need so strong it frightened her. She glanced around her room, suddenly embarrassed by her ruminations, followed by a sadness more profound than she'd thought possible. An owl flew into her window, a bright blue envelope tied to his leg. Distracted, she removed the letter and began to read. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The changing room looked as though a herd of Hippogriffs had been set loose to rampage for hours. Towels covered the floor, uniforms were scattered all over the showers, several Quaffles were deflated, three Bludgers pinged off the walls. Harry ducked as a Snitch zoomed past his head before diving low to loop Dobby's right ear. Dobby shrieked and dove into the dirty laundry hamper, causing Harry to stifle a snort of laughter. "Trust me, Dobby," Harry said, dragging his fingers through his hair, "there's a method to my madness." "But…but…" Dobby spluttered. "Why would Harry Potter do this? After Dobby and Winky spent all afternoon tidying the uniforms and stacking the towels!" He hiccupped, his bottom lip quivering. "Dobby, I really appreciate your help," Harry said, clearing his throat, "but trust me! All will be set right by a quarter to nine. You have my word on it." He paused as Dobby stuck his head out to glare at him. "I promise. If it isn't, I'll clean up in here myself for a month." Dobby stared at Harry for several moments, finally nodding. "Harry Potter is good as his word. Dobby will trust him to see things through." Harry rolled his eyes as Dobby climbed out of the laundry hamper and wrung his tea cozy hat tightly in his hands. "It was just such a…shock when Dobby came in here tonight, wanting to show Harry Potter how neat and tidy the changing room was for tomorrow's tryouts." "I understand, Dobby," Harry said apologetically. "I should have let you in on the secret. Now, if you don't mind, the young men scheduled for detention will be arriving any moment now." He gestured to the door. "I promise – you and Winky come back in ninety minutes and see for yourselves." Dobby gave a sad little nod, and with a snap of his fingers, was gone. Harry blew out a breath – one must tread lightly when dealing with sensitive House Elves – and muttered a Cushioning Charm on the Bludgers and the Snitch. "No sense knocking the boys out," he said to himself as he surveyed the carnage. He walked over to the small office which sat outside the changing rooms to await the condemned. Five minutes later, Ian Wilson and Cyril Carlin walked around the corner, their feet dragging against the stone walkway. Harry couldn't catch what they were muttering, but chances were it had something to do with him. He straightened his waistcoat and cleared his throat to gain their attention. Both boys stopped stock-still in front of him. "Gentlemen," Harry said, his eyes somber. "Good evening, Professor Potter," Carlin and Wilson chimed in unison. "You're here to serve detention for engaging in dangerous roughhousing this afternoon on the pitch," he said, clasping his hands behind his back. "Miss Chang, the young lady your antics caused to fall, is resting in the hospital wing with a concussion. Do you know what that is?" They shrugged. "A bruise to the brain. Concussions can be very dangerous. Headache, dizziness, personality changes, difficulty with memory. All of these things can happen when you have a concussion." He speared a glance at the boys, happy to see that they both looked green with fear. "Professor," Cyril stammered, "she's going to be all right, isn't she?" "Yes, she will," Harry said, noticing that each of the boys seemed to regain the use of their lungs. "However, there is a question as to whether she will be able to participate in Quidditch tryouts tomorrow. Now, before you say anything that you will regret, such as ‘Bad luck, Ravenclaw' or ‘better odds for Gryffindor' –" both boys blushed, "—I suggest we get started with your detention. Follow me." He turned and walked towards the entrance of the changing room, extending a hand to let them boys enter ahead of him. "Bloody hell," Ian said. Harry caught the nervous glance Cyril shot at Ian for swearing and stifled a chuckle. "Right," Harry said briskly rubbing his hands together and withdrawing his wand with a flourish, "I need these uniforms hung up in the four wardrobes over there." He pointed his wand at each. Sparks shot out of the end, striking the house shields on the doors of each. They sprang open, the empty hangers jangling merrily. "Next, I need all of these towels folded, using a tri-fold method, so that twelve towels will fit on each of these shelves." Another flash from his wand and the shelves jiggled. "Finally, I need all of these Quaffles filled with air, and the Bludgers and Snitches trapped and placed in their cases." The boys blinked at him and, with a sigh, withdrew their wands. "Without magic," Harry said crisply, Summoning their wands from their hands, a diabolical smile crossing his face. Two hours later, Harry gathered the rolls of parchment he had spread before him. He'd heard the muttered curses and crashes which had come from within the changing room on a fairly regular basis, and was looking forward to seeing just what the boys had accomplished during their detention. He stood, collecting the purloined wands from the top drawer of the desk, and strode into the room. He was, in a word, pleased. While both boys looked sufficiently sweaty, rumpled, and grumpy, the room was immaculate. They'd obviously taken him very seriously: the towels were folded, as required, and stacked neatly on the appointed shelves; the uniforms hung on their hangers, looking freshly pressed and orderly; the Quaffles were re-inflated and the Bludgers encased in their straps. He nodded and turned to face his students. "Well, well, well," he said, taking their wands from his pocket. "You've done an excellent job, gentlemen. I believe you've also learned not to act so carelessly in class from now on, isn't that right?" They nodded. "I'm sorry," Harry said, cocking a hand against his ear, "I didn't quite catch that…" "Yes, sir," Wilson and Carlin grumbled, fixing him with truculent glares. Harry snorted. "Oh, now, that's enough of that. You both know that behavior such as you displayed in class today would not escape a punishment of some sort." He arched a brow at them. "Would you have preferred a year-long ban from broomstick riding?" Both of the boys turned white. "I thought not. Now," he said, handing each boy his wand and narrowing his eyes, "I want your word that you will not endanger the lives of another student again. And at the beginning of our next class, you are both to apologize to Miss Chang for your behavior. Am I understood?" "Yes, sir," they said, this time sounding more sincere than their last assent. "Very well," Harry said, pointing his wand at the candelabra and dimming the candles, "off you go." They scampered as quickly as their feet could carry them. Harry performed a Shrinking Spell on the parchments, stuffing them in his robe, and reached into the watch pocket of his waistcoat for his watch. "Quarter to nine," he said to himself. Taking a deep breath which did nothing to calm his jumping nerves, he headed towards the Astronomy Tower. He attempted to gather his thoughts as he walked, trying to formulate his words into a coherent and rational thread, to no avail. By the time he reached the door to the Tower, his stomach was irrevocably knotted. Reaching for the handle, he cocked his head towards the door. Someone was crying inside. Concerned, he opened the door. "Ginny?" ~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Author Notes: Many thanks to Web MD for their assistance and to all of the readers – this chapter is for you. Coming Soon: Chapter 11 -- Revelations
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