Missing in Action

Missing in Action

Chapter Three: Honesty

Harry and Ginny's current location: Dublin, the Republic of Ireland.

Ron and Hermione's current location: The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, England.

Ginny Weasley:

Do you have any idea how funny it is to see Harry's jaw drop to the ground? Honestly, I'm not looking forward to killing all the Muggle-borns in Europe, but... the trip's shaping up well.

Harry's eyes are still on me. They've been that way for about an hour now.

Ah. Voldemort's just announced our destination. We're in Dublin. I've got to go and pretend to set Basilisks on people.

Ron Weasley:

"Let's go and find them," I announced, "You and me."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "Sorry?" she said.

"I said, let's go and look for Harry and Ginny. We'll get cubes and cubes of Floo Powder and search all of Europe. Hermione looked at me as if I had sprouted two heads. "I don't think so," she said.

"I think so. This is Harry and Ginny we're talking about, not Draco Malfoy and... and... I don't know, Millicent Bulstrode!" I burst out.

"You're serious, aren't you," she stated. It wasn't a question.

"I've not ever been surer of anything before," I told her honestly.

She sneaked a look at the open kitchen door, where Mum and Dad sat slumped in chairs, crying their eyes out. It seemed to galvanise her decision.

"Then let's do it," she said.

Hermione had been in my room before, but that was when we were twelve, not sixteen. What would she think of my room now? Incredibly childish? Too manly?

I pushed open the door and motioned for her to sit on my bed. "We have to pack," I announced, stuffing things into my suitcase. It was magically expandable through a button, and with the flick of a switch it could automatically become feather-light.

I had one spare, so I handed it to Hermione. "I'll come with you to pick up your things, if you want," I said over my shoulder. "OK," she replied.

I dropped the last object into my suitcase: my journal. I was glad Hermione couldn't read it, because I wrote a lot of entries about her in it. Not all of them were entirely... clean, either. Then I slammed it shut.

"Well, I think that's everything," I affirmed. Hermione merely nodded. "Goodbye, room," I said, and it made Hermione chuckle. "What are you laughing for?" I asked. She just said, "It's too sweet, that ritual of saying goodbye to your bedroom. I used to do it, too."

I hoisted my suitcase and Hermione picked hers up. Then we walked calmly downstairs to the flowerpot that held the Floo Powder. I grabbed the little empty sack and filled it with a generous amount of powder. "We'll have to stop in Diagon Alley, I think," I said.

We tossed pinches of powder into our fireplace and jumped into the flames, suitcases in hand. "Granger residence!" Hermione shouted, before we spun out of sight.

Ron and Hermione's current location: Hermione's house.

Hermione Granger:

Well.

I didn't expect to be home so quickly. I kicked open the door to my room and rushed inside. I didn't want Ron to see me packing my knickers! But, when it came down to it, I didn't care anymore. There were more important things to think about now.

I threw open my wardrobe and ran my fingers along the metal bar, picking off clothes to pack. Then I dashed to my tallboy and pulled clothes from their neat piles. Three warm coats, ten t-shirts, four blouses, three pairs of jeans, six pairs of tracksuit pants, sandals, trainers, boots, socks, underwear, and of course my toiletries.

I shuddered as I dropped the last items into my toiletry bag- an unopened box of condoms, and my first monthly supply of The Pill. Mum had suggested I 'start taking precautions' about three months ago, and I'd followed her advice.

Zipping up my toiletry bag, I turned and smiled nervously at Ron, who was sitting on my window-seat. "Are you ready to go?" he asked gently. I shook my head no. I would never be ready.

"You forgot this," he said quietly, handing me a large, oblong object- 'Hogwarts: A History'.

"No thanks," I said, replacing the book on my shelf, "It's not my crutch for life any more." I pulled 'The Charms, Curses and Spells Encyclopedia' and my journal off the shelf and placed them into my suitcase, followed by my wand, a collapsible cauldron, and my wizarding money. Then I closed it and fastened it shut. "Now I am ready to leave," I announced.

"Goodbye, room," Ron whispered.

Harry Potter:

Does Ginny seriously think this is funny? It's not. She's driving me crazy... and for the first time in my life, I'm doing the normal teenage boy thing. I always prided myself on not needing to relieve my hormones, but the way she's been acting is driving me up the wall. Emphasis on the 'up' part.

"Sooo..." Ginny started, running gentle fingers along my thigh, "How's the trip so far?"

I'd had enough. "Ginny," I said impatiently, "I'm not having fun. We're under... his... control, and you expect me to be having the time of my life!"

Now Ginny just looked hurt. "And... if you want to dress like a Slytherin slut, go ahead!" I finished.

Her jaw dropped. "How can you say that to me?" she spat.

"Quite easily. You're acting like a whore. Do you honestly think I would fall in love with you because you're practically handing me your honour on a silver platter? Sorry, but I'm a nice bloke. I don't work like that."

"OK, fine. I'm a slut. Yes. Think what you like. But guess who won't be there one day?" she said sadly.

"I don't need anyone!" I practically shouted.

"Oh, yes you do," she purred, "You need me. I'm the one keeping up over half of the charade. You betray us... and the Boy Who Lived will be the Boy Who Died. Is that what you want, Harry? You take shit from people, and you catapult it back in their faces. Law of the jungle: Eat, or get eaten. Get it?"

Boy, did I get it. Ginny Weasley was extremely frightening when she was angry.

"OK, OK. You're right. We have to act. Good. Fine. I give up."

"The next part of my plan... you shall find out when we reach the Netherlands, the next stop on our itinerary," she finished, then tried to get to her feet.

Something came over me... like I couldn't let her get away. I got up and pulled her to her feet. I dragged her across the marble floor of Voldemort's Unplottable holiday villa in Ireland and into the pantry.

"Harry, what-" she started, then stopped abruptly. I pushed her into the wall and rested my hands on either side of her head, locking her in place. She looked up at me, frightened, and I brought my mouth to hers roughly in a steamy kiss.

"So that's why I shouldn't dress like a tart," she commented, grinning, "Wanna see why you should never walk around shirtless in my presence?"

"Mmm... OK," I said.

Then she trembled slightly in her silver stilettos and took my face in her hands.

She gave me the single most passionate kiss I have ever received or ever will receive. And as we settled into occupancy of the pantry, I reminded myself to thank Voldemort for bringing us here. Parseltongue curse or not.