Of Binding Spells and Chartreuse

December 20^th, 1997

Diagon Alley

As soon as Ginny Weasley heard the tinkling of the back door bell, she knew. Her heart sank at that sound, and that knowledge. She'd always thought that phrase was only a figure of speech, but she could literally feel it plummeting all the way down to her shoes. She didn't really even know why she was so sure of who it was coming into the shop; she was busy teetering on a stool and restocking boxes of Diorama Double-Bubble Gum on a high shelf at the moment when she heard the bell. But she knew. She stared blankly at the printing on the side of one of the boxes, struggling to collect her thoughts.

Lemon, orange, lime, cherry! Bubbles display historical events in stunning detail! Amaze your friends! Astound your enemies! Pass those tricky History of Magic tests! Goblin battles our specialty.

Maybe it's Colin, coming a bit early, she tried to tell herself. He'd been meeting her for dinner every day over the winter holidays. It might have been one of her other friends from Hogwarts. Perhaps Luna had returned early from the journey with her father to find Star-Bellied Sneetches in the fjords of Norway, or Seamus had decided to drop by. They were speaking by now; she'd forgiven him for constantly groping her, he'd forgiven her for that nasty hex last year, and all of his body parts had long since been successfully reattached. Really, it could have been anyone. Everybody knew she worked at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes over every holiday break now, and on weekends whenever she could, helping Fred and George, and friends always came in the back door. But...

A panel slid back a few inches from her nose. "Oy, Gin!" said Fred's head cheerfully. As was often the case these days, it was not attached to the rest of his body.

Ginny jumped back. "I wish you'd give those Floating Head Fruit Lollies a rest!" she said irritably. "You almost made me fall off this chair, Fred."

"You don't want to do that." Fred's disembodied hand floated up to ruffle his sister's hair. "Got to keep it all in one piece for Harry, sis."

I was right. Ginny's heart seemed to be doing its level best to get out of the soles of her feet at this point.

"I just saw him out in the alley," said George, climbing up to the top shelf of the inner room on a more conventional stepladder

"I'll go and let him in. Show him how we modified the lollies. They work on any body part now!" said Fred excitedly, his head and right hand swooping down to their normal position as he scampered out the door of the little inner room on the other side of the wall where Ginny was working.

"D'you want to see him, Ginny?" George asked quietly.

Ginny gave a long, long sigh. "Of course I do," she said, and she began to climb down to the floor. She pushed the stool back to the wall, and looked in a tiny mirror she pulled from her pocket. At a tap, it expanded to show her face, neck, and shoulders. A pale, haunted face looked back at her, surrounded by the crowded shelves and bustling front entrance of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

"You really ought to try a brighter shade of lipstick, dear," the mirror twittered. "Scarlet Sin, I should think. And don't knit your brows together like that. Boys find it dreadfully unattractive, you know!"

Ginny scowled further. She turned and was about to snap the mirror shut when she caught a reflected glimpse of Harry coming in the back door. He looked bemused, and Fred was dragging him towards a small side room. Ginny shifted the mirror. Now she could see the sprig of greenery fastened above its door. Fred was talking to Harry excitedly, pointing to the green thing, and winking. Harry looked rather worried. Fred dug an elbow into his ribs, making Harry wince. Then he left the mirror's field of vision, chortling. Ginny looked up to see that he was headed towards her. She froze. The thing Fred had fastened above the door of the side room a few days before was Weasleys' Wonderfully Wicked, Magically Enhanced Mistletoe--Saucy and Salacious Snogs Guaranteed, Or Quadruple Your Money Back! And she had already seen its effects on Ernie MacMillan and Susan Bones the day before. Susan had slipped Fred the admission fee and tricked Ernie into entering the room. The poor boy hadn't known what hit him.

"Oh, Gin!" Fred called loudly in her direction. "Come back here a minute, would you, please?"

George appeared at her side. "This way," he said sotte voce, and before Ginny even had a chance to protest that she could rescue herself from Fred's demented attempts at matchmaking, thank you very much, her other brother had propelled her towards the front of the shop.

"Stay out there for at least fifteen minutes. I'll get rid of Harry," George told her. "Try hiding there." He pushed her out the door and towards a large Father Christmas display on the sidewalk, glancing back first to make sure she couldn't be seen from the large picture windows in the front of the shop. Ginny crouched behind it, aware of what an utterly ungraceful position she was in. And it was all for the sake of hiding from Harry Potter, who was supposed to be her boyfriend. Oh, and don't forget trying to avoid him kissing me passionately under the mistletoe. Although I'm not at all sure that even the magic of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes could make that possible.

She sighed, and squirmed. The edge of a large box sticking out of the bearded display's sack was digging into her bum, and snow was starting to drip onto her head. How on earth did I ever manage to get myself into this mess in the first place?

Trouble was, she knew all too well.

Part Two

June 15, 1997.

Hogsmeade.

Ginny would never have guessed in a million years that the last Hogsmeade weekend in the late spring of her fifth year was going to end the way it did. When she relived it, that fact was the detail which bothered her the most. Not that she generally admitted anything at all was bothering her about the memory of that day. But in the small hours of the night, when she stared up into the canopy of her four-poster bed until her eyes burned with wakefulness, her defenses were always at their lowest. And then--sometimes, anyway--she did admit it.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were bringing her into their activities that spring a bit more than they had done, maybe. She sat next to them at meals sometimes now, and Harry would address vague questions to her. When she said something amusing, he would laugh, his eyes not quite on her. He was Seeker on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, of course, and she had been made Chaser this year. Ron was team captain, and Hermione would cheer dutifully from the stands. So that drew the four of them together, to some extent.

But they still never sat at Ginny's table in the library, or included her in the walks around the lake. She was forever coming upon them in a tight little circle of three, their heads pressed close together, urgently whispering. They always stopped when they realized she was near. "What are you talking about?" she'd ask. "Nothing," Harry, Ron, and Hermione would chorus. And Ginny certainly hadn't expected them to include her in their Hogsmeade plans that Saturday, because they had never had done before. She'd made arrangements to spend the day with Luna, Neville, and Colin.

But that late afternoon, about an hour before they'd all have to return to Hogwarts, she had been wandering aimlessly down the street, staring listlessly into shop windows, trying to decide if getting some more Sugar Quills was really worth all the trouble of walking back to Honeyduke's. Luna had found a bookshop and was talking Neville's ear off about astrological theories involving Stonehenge, the Sphinx, and the Fuchsia Fibble-Footed Sniffersnoof. Ginny had made a strategic escape. Colin was trying to chat up Seamus outside the Hog's Head. She had tried to tell him that it was hopeless, since Seamus was as straight as an arrow as far as she could see, considering the way he'd constantly tried to get her to sleep with him when they were dating. But Colin had come out to Ginny that year, and kept trying to enlist her help in finding a boyfriend. He never listening to the advice she gave.

She loitered near the little road that led to the Shrieking Shack, letting the breeze waft her hair, feeling the sunlight on her closed eyes. Then she jumped. Someone had tapped her on the shoulder.

"Ginny," said Hermione a little breathlessly. "I'm glad I found you. Come on."

"Where?" Ginny scampered after Hermione, who was already walking back towards the centre of the town.

"We're at the Three Broomsticks," Hermione called back over her shoulder. "Hurry."

Raising her eyebrows, Ginny followed.

There was definitely an odd vibe at that table, Ginny decided. Nobody was talking much. Ron kept elbowing Hermione in the ribs. She kept glaring back at him. Harry looked nervous and wouldn't meet anyone else's eyes. Well, at least the butterbeer is good. Ginny sipped at hers, enjoying the sweet, spicy taste, and wondered if there was a point to her being invited to the Trio's gathering, and if so, if anybody was ever planning on letting her in on it.

Ron kicked Harry under the table in what was undoubtedly supposed to be a very subtle way. He rubbed his ankle and sighed.

"Ginny," he said, "I'd like to, um, show you something."

"Oh?" Ginny asked. "Where is it?"

"Outside."

Ginny glanced back at the table as Harry led her to a side door and into a little grassy yard. Ron and Hermione were whispering furiously to each other. Harry stopped her and then glanced around. The yard was very secluded, surrounded by small buildings on every side, and lined with blooming rosebushes that scented the air deliciously. He still didn't say anything.

Ginny rarely had a chance to look at him anywhere near this closely, and she studied his sculpted face, his swirly dark hair, which seemed to be messier than ever (every strand's standing on end, I think!) and his earnest forest mgreen eyes, blinking at her behind the same black-rimmed glasses he'd always worn. She wondered if his prescription never changed. Or did his awful Muggle aunt and uncle just keep buying him the same frames, because they were cheapest? And what was she doing, thinking about silly things like that at a time like this, when Harry had deliberately gotten her alone, and was looking at her so intently, almost desperately?

"Harry?" she asked tentatively. "Did you, uh, want something?"

In answer, he suddenly leaned forward, put his hands on her shoulders, and pushed her back against the wall of a shed, knocking her head. "Sorry," he said, horrified. "Ooh, Ginny, I didn't mean to--are you all right?"

"Yes..." She leaned forward, rubbing the back of her head, now more confused then ever.

"Good," said Harry, and then he leaned in and kissed her. Her eyes flew wide open with shock. It wasn't a particularly graceful kiss. His teeth scraped her lips and he didn't quite seem to know what to do with his tongue, but it went on and on, and finally she opened her mouth and coaxed him closer. Ginny thought that she clearly had more experience with kissing than he did, for all that she was a year younger. But then, she'd only ever heard of him dating Cho back in fifth year, and then a brief, failed attempt at a relationship with Luna this year. Why am I thinking things like this? Harry's kissing me, finally kissing me! It's the best, the most exciting thing...really it is... ouch... he's biting my lip...

And by the time Harry lifted his head, Ginny had convinced herself of her own words.

They came back into the Three Broomsticks a few minutes later. Ginny blushed when Ron and Hermione both looked at her anxiously.

"Told you," chortled Ron, looking satisfied. Hermione nodded. There was still a trace of worry, or perhaps only thoughtfulness, in her eyes.

Harry sat down, and pulled out Ginny's chair for her. Slowly, she sat in it. He kept his hand on her knee now when he talked, and sat much closer to her than he had ever done before. She was fully included in the conversation at the table for the first time in her life. Everything had changed; subtly, but unmistakably, everything had changed. But she mostly only felt lost and bewildered. She looked at Harry, and he gave her a small smile. It warmed her. It's only because everything happened so fast, she told herself. This is exactly what I've always dreamed of. I never thought it would happen... and now it has.

The four of them walked slowly down the street, surrounded by crowds of students preparing to return to Hogwarts. "Oy!" someone yelled. "Harry... Ron... over here... "

Harry turned to Ginny. "Is it all right if I go and talk to him for a minute? Shouldn't take long."

"Of course," she said. She recognized Jack Sloper now, and knew that he was likely trying to get Harry and Ron alone in order to lay out his demented plans to reorganize the team. He'd already told them to her. So she really didn't mind. Still, it felt so odd for Harry to worry about her reaction to something like his leaving her by herself on the first day when they... What did we do? We started dating, didn't we? Still seems so odd... Well, I'll get used to it. It might take a bit of time, but I will.

Hermione waited until the boys were long out of earshot. "Harry kissed you, didn't he?" she asked quietly.

"Well..." Ginny could feel herself turning a shade of pink. "Yes, he did. You knew he would, didn't you? And Ron did as well."

Hermione nodded. "I hope you don't mind, Ginny, but there's not much that Harry can keep from us. We knew he was planning it. What else did he do? You don't mind telling me, do you?" she added as an afterthought.

"No," said Ginny truthfully. "There's not much else to tell. He asked me to come out to the Quidditch pitch tonight, and said he'd show me some new moves on his broom that he hasn't shown anyone else yet--"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If it was anyone except Harry, I'd say that's the worst double entendre I've ever heard in my life."

"But it is Harry." Ginny smiled. "And you know he didn't mean it that way."

"Yes, I know." Hermione hesitated. "Ginny, you do understand what this means, right? He's been building up to it for weeks. He made us both swear not to tell you until he was ready, or even to drop any hints. But I know that Harry didn't just kiss you on a lark. He doesn't do that sort of thing."

"I understand," said Ginny. "Right after that, he told me he'd be coming to stay at the Burrow later this summer, and he kept talking about all the exciting things we'd do. Like we were a couple already." Harry and Ron were walking back towards them, and Ginny knew that she and Hermione didn't have much time left to talk.

"But, Hermione," she asked quickly, before she lost her nerve, "why now? What's changed?" She expected Hermione to ask what on earth she meant by that, but the other girl only looked troubled. Not confused, though. She does know what I mean. I was sort of hoping she didn't.

"I'm not sure," Hermione said. "I can't think of anything. Except--"

"Hurry, if you're going to say anything," says Ginny. "They're headed back this way."

"Well, I don't know if this could possibly have meant anything or not. But right before Harry started talking about you--differently--than he ever had before, something a bit odd did happen. He got an owl at breakfast one morning from your mum, a few weeks ago."

"She's sent owls to him before."

"I know, but he wouldn't tell us what was in this one. And he acted so strangely all day after that. Look, Ginny," Hermione added quickly, "if you want to talk more about this later, we will. But not now."

"Sloper's mad," Ron exclaimed. "Listen to this, Gin. He thinks the way he keeps hitting members of the Gryffindor team with his bat could turn out to be useful. He wants to change our strategy so that we let the Bludgers come at the Chasers, he thinks it'll throw the other teams off--"

"I know," said Ginny. "He already told me about it."

"If he thinks I'm going to let Bludgers come at your head, first I'll sit on him, and then--" began Ron.

"It won't come to that. He's an absolute nutter," agreed Harry, laughing. "But I'll protect you, Ginny." He came up to Ginny and took her hand. The three of them continued walking. He clasped her fingers in his, their arms swinging, and kept talking to her brother. She knew, then, that this was how it would be. No big fuss. No long discussions. No lavish romance. She could tell that none of that sort of thing was Harry's style; in fact, Ginny thought, she'd likely always known that. She would simply be included as a part of his life from now on, but in a way that she had never been before.

The crowds of students grew thicker. A group of Slytherins brushed by them, Draco Malfoy at its centre. Ron stiffened incredibly, and Hermione shook her head at him, pressing her finger to her lips. Harry's eyes narrowed. The Order had been on edge for the past year, Ginny knew, waiting tensely for Voldemort and the Death Eaters to make a move. After hearing about the way that Malfoy had threatened Harry at the end of the spring term in his fifth year, Ron had become thoroughly convinced that Malfoy was now an official Junior Death Eater. He kept trying to come up with a plan to sneak into the Slytherin showers after a Quidditch game in order to see if Malfoy's arm had the Dark Mark, and had finally announced that it didn't matter if he ever actually saw it or not, since he was sure it was there. That always seemed like rather circular reasoning to Ginny. Harry had avoided confrontations with Malfoy for the past year, but watched him like a hawk, his hand never far from his wand when he was within twenty metres of the Slytherin boy. Ginny felt his right hand stray to his waist holster now, letting go her arm.

"Oh, don't, Harry," she hissed urgently. "Let's not make trouble. He's not doing anything."

And indeed, the entire group of Slytherins had been ignoring them. But there was a lull in the general rumble of conversation when Ginny whispered to Harry, and she blushed, realizing too late just how loud she had been. Pansy laughed meanly. She was at the very centre of the group, clutching onto Malfoy's arm as if her life depended on it.

"Clever of you, Weaslette," she said. "Don't let Scarhead here start anything he can't finish." The group of girls surrounding her tittered. But nobody else said a word. Ginny couldn't understand why at first. Then she saw that Malfoy was silent, and everyone else clearly took their cue from him, not from Pansy Parkinson.

Ginny raised her head and looked steadily into his eyes, silently daring him to make a remark. She was sure he would. He had a cutting wit, and one secret Ginny would never tell anyone was that she sometimes found his scathing comments amusing--as long as they weren't directed at her. But he said nothing. Why won't Malfoy say anything? I almost wish he would! He only looked at her sullenly, his dark-blond eyebrows knitting together into a scowl. She glared back, defiantly. How dare he look at me that way! She clutched tighter at Harry's arm. And for the first time, her delight at being Harry Potter's new girlfriend was complete. This was what she had wanted for so long that she couldn't clearly remember wanting much of anything else. Now, it was hers.

Malfoy's narrow mouth twisted into a half-grin. It did not reach his eyes. He raised a slender white hand to Ginny, as if in salute.

Then he looked away, and the moment was broken. The group of Slytherins began moving down the street again, none of them looking back.

"Did you see the way he looked at you?" Ron asked his sister indignantly. "That evil smirk! And what was that thing he did with his hand? Probably the beginning of a curse. I'll bet he learned it from Snape. He's plotting something. I know it! Listen, Harry. We should try that Polyjuice trick again. We could learn so much, and--"

"Haven't you learned anything since second year?" asked Hermione. "We had no idea at the time how lucky we were not to get caught."

Harry raised a hand. "Not today," he said, looking warmly at Ginny. "I don't want to even think about Malfoy today, of all days." And she smiled back, clasping his hand.

But the image of Malfoy's bright head and pale burning eyes stayed with her still, as if stamped into her retinas by the bright June sun. She never told anyone, but she dreamed about the way he had looked at her for a long time after that. She remembered the expression on his face long after any clear memory of Harry's kisses had faded. Malfoy had looked like a shuttered house, his secrets hidden behind a mocking grin that walled out the world more surely than doors and windows could ever do.