Come On Harry

Chapter 9: Heading Towards Trouble

Dinner was unusually quiet at the Burrow. Ron had the sneaking suspicion that while everyone was slowly picking at their food, or in the twins' case, stuffing their faces, they were all thinking about something else.

Ron, himself, couldn't get the bleak image of Harry out of his head: eyes loosely shut, lying in a blinding white bed in the corner of the infirmary. Ron thought he'd never felt so lost before. Even though Harry had been up against You-Know-Who more than a few times in the past seven years, this was the first time that Ron could remember being absolutely bloody terrified that Harry's life was actually at risk. Perhaps it was because Harry, who somehow always came out on top in the end, had no say in what happened to him this time. And that frightened Ron more than anything.

He also couldn't forget that somber last kiss that Hermione had given him before she went off to spend the holidays with her parents. It had been quick, quiet, and cold. When she stepped away, Ron caught sight of something flicker in her eyes. It looked like a wave of guilt, disappointment, maybe. Ron wasn't sure, but it didn't seem like a good thing.

He only wished he'd said something positive to her before they'd parted ways. Assured her, perhaps, that Harry would be okay and that this whole mess would be over soon. But Ron realized he couldn't say any of this because he wished someone would say it to him.

Ginny looked over towards him now, playing with a spoon in between her long pale fingers carelessly. "Ron?"

His head snapped up, his eyes still unfocused. "Huh?" A pale red flush spread across his cheeks as he noticed that his entire family was staring at him.

Bill spoke up, "I asked if you wanted to set up a quidditch match after dinner." He grinned, fixing his leather collar and watching his tall younger brother expectantly.

Ron exhaled and smiled in return. Quidditch he could deal with. "How could I possibly say no?" he responded, slipping a spoonful of the porridge his mum had made into his mouth.

"I'm not playing Seeker anymore," Ginny said, raising her head to look at Bill and Charlie, who were momentarily chatting amongst themselves.

"Rotten luck, lil' sis," Fred exclaimed during a break in the voracious stuffing of his mouth.

George's smile extended all the way to his ears. "Lineup's always the same."

Ginny groaned, and at that very moment, Mrs. Weasley jumped out of her seat because it had started to buzz and glow. "Someone's at the door," she explained, rushing towards the other room and adding unnecessarily, "I'll get it."

Ron didn't think much of this and turned back to discuss the game with his siblings when he heard his mum exclaim in a motherly fashion from across the threshold, "Oh, Hermione!"

He spun around, eyes wide. Had he invited her over? He certainly didn't remember doing so. Oh no, what if there was something terribly wrong? Was Harry okay? He got to his feet in a hurry and ran to the front room, leaving Fred and George to point and laugh at his odd behavior.

Entering the front room, which was so tiny and cramped that it could hardly be called a room at all, he saw his mum giving Hermione a hug.

"Sorry to interrupt, especially when I wasn't invited," the young girl with bushy hair apologized to the older woman.

Mrs. Weasley broke in, "Dear, you're always invited!"

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione said, smiling. "I was wondering if I could speak with Ron for a moment..." She turned her head towards the kitchen and saw him staring straight at her, leaning against the doorframe as if he had been waiting for her all evening.

His arm extended all the way to the ceiling, and he was pressing the side of his cheek against it. The sleeve of his shirt was slipping down the length of his arm, and he gave her a small smile when she caught sight of him. "Oh, Ron," she said, in a lower voice than she'd intended, at once causing a redness in her cheeks.

"I see you've already found him," Mrs. Weasley remarked knowingly and returned to the kitchen to leave them alone after giving Ron a subtle squeeze on the shoulder.

He blushed again, lifting his eyes to meet Hermione's hesitant gaze. There was doubt in her eyes, and it took her a moment to open her mouth and say, "I wasn't sure whether you'd want me to come or not..."

Ron cut her off. "I'm really glad you did." He held her hand out to her and she took it without a second thought.

She nodded gratefully and found strength in the warmth of his palm. "Can we talk privately for a moment? In your room, maybe?"

The tips of his ears turned red as he led her to his room, even though she already knew where it was very well from all the time she had spent in it that summer.

The door had just barely closed behind them when Hermione cast a silencing charm on it, whirled around, and said grimly, "Ron, we need to talk."

He wasn't sure if he should be worried or not. It had to be serious if she'd come all the way to the Burrow just to talk. "Wh - What is it?" he asked.

She sighed and glanced around the room, avoiding his gaze. "Never mind, I can't say this." Leaning back against the door, she pressed her palms against it in a strained way and exhaled forcefully.

"What? What is it, Hermione? You can tell me anything, you know." He approached her and drew her hands away from the door, trapping them in his. They were soft and cold. He wondered if she had been waiting outside for a long time.

Without warning, Hermione flung her body onto Ron's and squeezed his shoulders and upper back with her arms. Ron felt his hands, having just released his girlfriends', wander onto her waist and grab hold protectively. Her head was resting on his upper chest, and a few seconds later he heard her sniffling. Was she crying?

Unsure of what to do, his hands ventured upwards, massaging her back as her sobs became louder and he was certain now that she was crying. "It's okay," he heard himself say, his voice hesitant and cracking. "Whatever it is, it's okay."

Her voice was muffled and unclear against his shirt, which was now slightly damp with her tears, but he made out the words, "I mi - miiisss youuu..."

His breath hitched when she brought her head back to look up at him, her eyes and cheeks dark with wet trails. His thumbs brushed them away slowly, rubbing against the raw skin underneath. "I miss you too, love," he said in a deep voice, then added lightly, "Although I did see you just yesterday."

The sides of her mouth turned upwards at once, and he caught a glimpse of her teeth, which had been perfectly even since her fourth year. Her right palm was flat against his chest, as if feeling for his heart beat. Her voice was sweet as he tucked a loose strand behind her ear. "That's not what I meant..." she said, keeping her eyes steady on his face.

"I know," he said, remembering their last few days of school. "We haven't been as..." He searched for a word. "...as supportive of each other after Harry... well, I know what you mean."

Her eyes caught his, and they looked brighter but still guarded. "Perhaps you're not such an insensitive git, after all," she said in almost a whisper, moving to hug him again.

***

Harry had been staring at the same book in the restricted section of the library for days now. The spine was made of green velvet and the title of the book was inscribed in neat silver script along it. He'd reached out to touch it several times and feel the soft fuzz against the tips of his fingers, but he'd done no more than that so far because Madam Pince had been constantly standing over his shoulder, watching him attentively and snapping her fingers.

Occasionally she'd become distracted by a passing student whom Harry had never seen before, or by Peeves or an escaped creature from Hagrid's insecure cages. At this point Harry would try to grab for the velvet book, but he would never have enough time before her attention focused back to him.

He wanted to give up, but the desire to open the book was so strong that he could not even move his feet from their glued position on the ground. Something in the book was calling to him and he knew he'd never feel complete until he read it.

He reached out his hand again to stroke the spine, and this time he heard a low, calming voice from behind him call, "Harry. It's time to come back."

Harry spun around to see a tall old man swamped in a violent purple cloak, his eyes soft behind half-rimmed moon spectacles. The man put his hand forward and motioned for Harry to get up off the ground.

"But, Professor, this...this book. I must read it," Harry responded, stealing another glance at the silver script on the spine.

The man moved closer and his hand was just above Harry's shoulder now. "You will, Harry. Now come."

Harry felt his feet shift away from the bookshelf and his hand connect with the older man's. He was being lifted and then led through a maze out of the library. He didn't remember coming in this way, and it seemed hours until they reached the brightly lit hallway.

The lights hurt Harry's eyes, so he closed them momentarily, and when he opened them again, he saw a flank of black hair right above him. "Poppy!" the figure yelled. "He's awake!"

His eyes focused and through the soft light of the infirmary, Harry made out the form of Professor Snape and now Madam Pomfrey running towards him madly. "Mr. Potter! Thank goodness!" She took in a few quick breaths and ran her palm over Harry's forehead. "Severus, would you tell Albus that Mr. Potter has woken?"

"Certainly." There was a click of the door and Harry felt the absence of his Potions professor immediately.

Harry's mouth opened with much effort. "What time is it?" he asked weakly, embarrassed by the sound of his own voice.

Cold glass pressed against his lips. "Time for you to drink this," Madam Pomfrey replied, titling the glass forward to allow the liquid passage into his mouth. It tasted bitter and rancid, and Harry thought he'd never swallowed anything more unwilling to go down his throat.

The fluid passed down his esophagus uncomfortable. Several minutes later, Harry forgot about it and managed to ask, his voice less weak now, "What's happened?"

Madam Pomfrey answered from across the room, "What do you remember, dear?"

"The duels," Harry replied truthfully. "I was in a duel with Draco Malfoy. I blacked out again, didn't I?"

Her voice was nearer now. "Does this happen often, Mr. Potter?" She placed a towel on his head. It was warm and damp, and it made his forehead tingle.

"You - you know of the only other time, Madam Pomfrey," he lied.

She was sitting on the edge of his bed, evaluating him with her keen eyes.

The towel was burning his forehead now. "What is this?" he asked, looking up towards it by edging his chin up.

"Just a few herbs from Pomona's garden," she explained. "Should help you clear your head."

Harry's eyes fluttered shut for a moment. "Pomona?" he asked, wondering if he was still dreaming.

"Professor Sprout," Madam Pomfrey said, getting up from the bed. Harry felt it shift towards him from the lack of her weight.

His eyes opened again. "How much time has passed?"

"Nearly four days." She exhaled. "Try to clear your mind, Mr. Potter. It will help you heal. And perhaps you won't have to deal with these lapses of unconsciousness anymore."

"Do you - do you know what's causing it?" he asked fearfully.

"Please, Mr. Potter. No more questions." He heard her footsteps fade into the background as he rested his eyes again, trying not the think about the fact that he'd wasted four days of his life sleeping in this bed.

***

The mood at the Burrow had lightened considerably after Dumbledore sent word of Harry's awakening. Ron was laughing again, Mrs. Weasley was always cheery, and Ginny spent more time with her brothers and less by herself. They were all excitedly planning the monstrous quidditch tournament they were going to have once Harry had fully recovered enough to come to the Burrow.

To everyone's surprise, even Hermione had agreed to participate, so Ron suggested that he train her a full week before she played. The first day had gone by smoothly because Ron's patience weighed out his frustration over his girlfriend's lack of quidditch skills.

However, by the second day, Hermione couldn't stay on the broom for more than three minutes before zooming back down to vomit. She excused herself from the tournament because she said she could not overcome her motion sickness, even after drinking the self-concocted potion which supposedly cured it.

Unfortunately Ginny noticed that Hermione was still sick the few days afterwards, especially in the very early morning. Motion sickness must have been bad, Ginny thought to herself, having been roused again by Hermione's mad rush out of the room.

Ginny turned onto her side, brushing her bright hair out of her eyes and leaning onto her arm as she watched her best friend's bushy brown hair disappear out the door. The clock said it was twenty minutes after four. It was completely dark outside, but Ginny knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep until her friend came back.

An hour had passed and Ginny began to worry until she realized that Hermione had probably just gone into Ron's room as she had done the night before last.

She looked up at the ceiling and thought about the media's recent persistence that Draco Malfoy had nothing to do with Harry Potter's lapse of consciousness. This was of course after Harry's statement and presumably the headmaster's as well. Dumbledore, as far as Ginny knew, had always been good with persuasion when he thought it mattered.

The incident had been put down as the result of malnutrition and a lack of sleep due to the anticipation of the duel. If Harry's blackout was indeed any more than this, the public needn't be bothered by it just yet. Ginny hoped that this meant that Draco would be back at school in January.

Amidst her thoughts, she heard a loud tap on the window. Attempting to convince herself that it was just the wind, Ginny pulled up her bed sheets to cover her ears, but the taps just became louder and more determined.

Finally she threw off her sheets and rushed to the window with wand in hand. Peering through the blinds from an angle so as not to be seen, she caught sight of a flurry of white blonde hair. She jumped away, her heart beating fast. It could only be one of two people, she told herself, completely in a state of panic.

Taking in a long breath, she dropped down to examine his face. He looked young and more than impatient. She sighed with relief.

Muttering a charm to open the window, she fell back as wind rushed onto her partially exposed body. His gray eyes met hers for a moment before he flew in on his broomstick with a look that said, It's about time.

Before he did say it though, she whispered, "What are you doing here, Draco?"

"It's good to see you too, darling," he replied sarcastically, tearing his eyes away from her lack of a shirt to peer around at her room. The walls were mostly orange with a few yellow splatters here and there, and he found himself surprised at how messy the room was. It was small, and the bed looked as if it would creak if any pressure were applied. There were far too many trinkets cluttering up the surfaces of the furniture in the room, but he was very pleased to find that there was a full length mirror hanging on the back of the door.

He studied Ginny's back in it for a moment, her shrunken shirt which was exposing her skin and her pajama pants which were falling off her waist and revealing the top of her blue knickers. She had a beautiful lower back, Draco mused, noting the slight curve which accentuated her bottom and the two small indentations on either side of her spine right above it.

His eyes moved away from the mirror onto the real Ginny in front of him, who was still staring at him with wide eyes. "So," he continued, "Daddy must have pulled quite a few strings at work to get that anti-Apparition ward up, huh? It absorbed all the curses I aimed at it, too."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and leaned backwards. "It's for Harry. When he comes. The ministry set it all up. Dumbledore's orders."

"The man is finally doing something," he said, with a few marks of a smile. "I was under the impression that Potter was still at Hogwarts. Is he here?"

She searched his face for signs of guilt but found none. It seemed he had certainly improved his attitude since the last time they had talked, but that was probably because of the Prophet's new take on the situation. "Not yet," she answered, "Although I can't imagine it'll be long before he comes."

Draco gripped and un-gripped his no doubt expensive broom before he said, "He shouldn't come." His eyes met Ginny's for a moment before darting away quickly. "He's safer there."

What was on his mind? Ginny wondered, trying to pierce through his skull with her eyes. "He wants to come. If not tomorrow, then the day after."

"Of course." He threw off his top coat and layer of robes onto the ground, revealing a white buttoned shirt and black trousers. He sat down on her bed without asking. "Potter always wants to put himself in danger," he said instead.

She leaned against the side of the bed, her knees very close to his.

He suddenly grabbed one of them, and she drew her spaced out eyes onto his face. "Promise me something, Gin."

"What?"

"When he comes here, don't let him go outside the house. And promise me you won't go outside, either." His eyes were focused, and his mouth was in a straight line. Ginny thought he had never looked so serious before.

She sat down in the center of the bed, crossing her legs slightly. "Why?"

"Because... there are..." he let his head droop low. Ginny poked his side with her foot so that he would look at her again. "This is serious, Ginny. It's real this time. Don't go outside."

She couldn't believe him, but perhaps it was because she didn't want to. "So there's an attack planned? Death Eaters are monitoring the Burrow? Waiting for Harry to be outside, unguarded, unarmed, vulnerable? I don't think so." She slid one of her feet under his bottom. "You're always like this, Draco."

"Like what?" he asked with a hint of resentment.

She slid her other foot under him as well, with a slight smile. "Overly dramatic. 'Don't go outside, Ginevra, my love!' " Her imitation of him wasn't very good, but she thought she got the point across. "Always something vague, too... Like you're sworn to secrecy by a cult, which has a variety of axes and swords to make you useless to a woman if you ever spilled. Come to think of it, I might not be too far off. Am I? How are the Death Eater meetings, anyway?"

He grabbed both her ankles viciously. "Ginny, stop it. Just believe me and don't go outside."

Ginny tried to lean forward, but his grip on her ankles did not allow her to bend her knees. "I would believe you," she spat at him, "if you told me exactly what you know and how the bloody hell you know it."

He hesitated for a moment, letting go of her ankles and staring into her chocolate brown eyes. "Ginny, you've seen me naked. Every inch of my body."

She was surprised to find her cheeks become hot. "Don't you try to change the subject on me again, you foul git."

"My point is, Ginny, with your own two eyes, have you ever seen any markings on me?"

Bending her knees, she moved closer to him. "No, but that doesn't mean a thing. You could easily use some concealing charm to hide it from me."

His voice was soft, pleading. "Or I could not have one at all." His fingers moved across his collar nervously, making sure it was clean and straight.

Suddenly her hand moved over his, removing the top button of his shirt from its hole. "Tell me what you know," she whispered.

He suddenly realized how dark the room was. "Seducing me is not going to work," he declared, but his voice grew weak as she began to kiss the side of his neck. "Ginny, I'm not going to tell you anything. I can't."

"Sworn to secrecy?" she whispered and continued to unbutton his shirt and slide her kisses downward.

Finally finding power, he grabbed her head with one of his hands and both her hands in the other and pulled her off of him. "You don't realize how much I'm risking right now just by being here, do you?"

She struggled out of his grip. "And just who is restricting you like this? The Junior Death Eater Societ - "

"My father!" He said as loud as he thought was necessary without rousing anyone in the house. "If he finds me gone, then there's no doubt this will be the last time I see you."

"Then why are you here?" she asked, though she hadn't meant to do so as rudely.

"Because I had to warn you. And I had to see you."

"Why?" she repeated.

He gave her an annoyed look. "You know why. You just want to hear me say it."

"Maybe I do," she said, crossing her arms.

"If my actions don't convince you enough, I don't know what will."

"I don't need convincing; I'm very certain of the fact that you're completely besotted with me." She placed her fingertip on his nose.

He rolled his eyes. "Your arrogance exceeds my mother's, something I used to think impossible."

She ignored his remark. "I just like to hear you say it, all the same."

"Well, I won't, because frankly, it would be overkill." He gripped her ankles again, this time in a more lighthearted manner and wrapped them around his waist. But his eyes suddenly focused behind her head onto the two used pillows side by side. His voice was immediately cold and furious, "Who are you sleeping with?"

She laughed at his concern. "Hermione. And not like that," she added, seeing his face.

"Where is she?" he asked, still a bit tense.

She glanced back at the pillows. "Either in the bathroom or with Ron. Although I can't imagine she'd be in the bathroom this long."

Draco looked as if he'd just been fed a sour lemon. "Too much information," he managed.

"You asked," she said, her legs still around his waist.

He ignored this and shook his head as if trying to forget the last minute of conversation. "Alright, kiss me so I can leave," he said instead.

She squeezed her legs together and smiled wickedly. "If I don't, will you stay?"

"Not a chance." His smile met hers.

Placing her hand forward, underneath his chin, she drew his face towards hers and placed her lips on his. The kiss was soft and warm, and Draco pulled away after a minute. Ginny began to button his shirt back up and he smiled.

He continued to stare at her, not even removing his gaze as he hopped off the bed and bent down to pick up his robes and his broomstick. "I can disapparate from here?" he finally asked.

She nodded, unable to speak, because she thought she might let a few tears slip if she did, and she didn't want Draco to see.

"Stay inside," he reminded her one last time before he lifted his wand and disappeared from her sight with a 'pop'.

Now Ginny did wipe away a tear that had made its way onto her cheek. She sniffed and turned around towards her pillows. Throwing herself onto both of them, her eyes closed and she tried not to think anymore. Not about Draco's warning, and especially not about his involvement in any organization that would make his father proud.

She had almost drifted off to sleep when Hermione entered the room as quietly as she could manage, although Ginny's eyes opened anyway. "You alright?" Ginny asked her best friend.

"Yes, I was finally able to concoct the correct potion, and I won't be sick anymore." Hermione smiled a bit guiltily, her weary eyes drooping. "So don't worry about me." She slipped into bed beside Ginny, and the redhead couldn't help but notice that her friend smelled like strawberries and soap. Hermione gave the other girl a soft kiss on the forehead before turning away to settle herself in the blankets and whispering, "Just go back to sleep."

***

When Ginny woke, Hermione was gone. The morning air was freezing, so she dressed quickly and put on a green jumper to keep herself warm. While gushing down the stairs excitedly to see if Harry had come yet, she heard a familiar man's voice coming from the kitchen. She knew, however, that it wasn't her father, brothers, or Harry, so she wondered who it could possibly be.

She stepped into the kitchen and caught sight of tall shabby robes and slightly graying brown hair. The man was talking to Ginny's mother, but he turned around and grinned when he felt Ginny's presence behind her. "Good morning, Ginny," he said, clasping his hands together in front of him.

"Professor Lupin," she replied, still stunned that he was there. Remus Lupin looked at her through his honey colored eyes and did not stop staring, perhaps because he hadn't seen her for at least a year and a half.

At that moment, they all heard either Fred or George outside yell, "Watch this, kiddies!" Promptly afterwards, there was a small explosion in the garden. Ginny started laughing, and Mrs. Weasley, face stern, marched outside shouting.

Lupin turned back to Ginny, who had stopped laughing when she felt his gaze on her. "How have you been Professor?" she asked.

He was surprised at the question and looked as if no one had ever asked him this before. "I - I'm fine, thanks." He paused. "And you? My, you've grown." She laughed in response, putting a hand against the counter and leaning on it nonchalantly, clearly used to such remarks. Her former professor began to blush profusely. "I mean, you're quite a bit taller than the last time I saw you," he corrected.

"Yes," she replied, "The twins are thoroughly upset that I'm able to compete with them in height, especially when I wear heels." She giggled.

Lupin's cheeks were still red with embarrassment. Perhaps he was trying not to think about Ginny wearing heels. He stepped forward and said frankly, "You're probably wondering why I'm here."

"I am," she admitted amiably. "Not that I'm not pleased," she added, smiling like she would at any other gangly seventh year boy, although she knew that this man was certainly not the same. He was her former professor, no less. Something about him though...perhaps it was the fact that although his skin was slightly worn and his hair graying, he had a boyish face and what looked like capable hands. And this time she was sixteen... and well, things had certainly changed since her second year at Hogwarts.

Lupin stared at her for a long time again before he finally brushed aside his fringe and said, "As I earlier explained to Ron and Hermione, although Dumbledore ordered your father to set up the ward, he has changed his mind recently about Harry coming to the Burrow, as some information has been brought to his attention."

"What information?" she interrupted. Perhaps it was the same as Draco's warning.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you, Ginny..." She looked into his honey eyes again, but he glanced away. "But I do have some good news. Since Harry was so determined to spend the holiday with his friends, and I don't blame him after what he's been through, we decided to take him to Grimmauld Place instead of keeping him at Hogwarts. And you're all invited, of course."

She beamed, her mind finally at ease after an entire night of worrying. "Is he there now?"

"He certainly is, and waiting for you," Lupin added knowingly and offered a smile.

***

The few days that Harry had been alone at Hogwarts contrasted greatly with all the attention he was getting from his friends now. Ron was more cheery and giddy than he had been in a while, and he wouldn't notice all the hints that Hermione was dropping him about leaving Harry and Ginny alone.

Now the four of them were in Ron's and Harry's bedroom, all gathered onto Harry's bed comfortably. Ron was lying on his stomach; Hermione was leaning against the wall next to him, her legs bunched up. Ginny was crossing her legs over the edge of the bed, and Harry was sitting Indian-style in the middle of the other three.

"This is just like summer before fifth year, yeah?" Ron said, laughing.

Ginny looked over. "Except I was excluded from everything back then."

"And you two," Harry said, pointing to Ron and Hermione, "were too stupid to admit you liked each other."

Hedwig started to make noise in her cage on the nightstand. Harry looked over to her slowly and then turned back. "And Sirius was here," he added a bit solemnly.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione said, reaching her hand out to massage the side of his arm.

"It's okay," he answered, grinning. "I'm glad you're all here. When they told me it was too dangerous to go to the Burrow, I was ready to rip my skin out."

"It's too bad though," Ron put in. "We had this great quidditch tournament planned. Can't really play here, though."

Harry smiled at his friend's enthusiasm. He felt something on his hand and glanced down to see Ginny's pinky stroking his knuckles lightly. It sent shivers down his spine, and he wondered how she could do that to him with just the touch of her finger.

Her eyes caught his, and they looked mischievous. He allowed her to grab his hand and drag him off the bed. "Come on, Harry. I have to show you something," she explained before leading him out into the hallway and shutting the door.

"Are you really going to show me something?" he asked, looking quite sultry.

She placed a finger on his nose. "'Course."

Her hold on his wrist was more firm as she dragged Harry down the stairs into the dark isolated corner of what looked like a living room with a currently unlit fireplace. She backed herself into the wall and placed him in front of her like a doll.

He was breathing loudly and staring at her intensely. "What is it that you're going to show me?" he asked her.

She reached her hands on either side of his neck and pushed down. Harry immediately rushed forwards and placed his lips on the corner of her mouth and then upwards, letting his tongue slip into her mouth.

His left hand was up against the wall and his right was moving up and down the length of Ginny's side. She was warm and soft, and Harry was in heaven.

A few moments later, Harry removed his lips slowly, his neck still bent and his nose touching hers. "I've got to tell you something, Ginny," he said hesitantly, his voice lower than usual.

"What?" she whispered.

"I think they're anxiety attacks," he said simply.

She tried to make out his face in the darkness. "What are?"

"My lapses of unconsciousness. I think they're anxiety attacks."

"Harry," she said, bringing her hand up to his face, "you've been up against You-Know-Who how many times now? I doubt dueling Draco is anywhere near as nerve-wracking as it is being face to face with the Dark Lord. Why didn't you collapse then?"

"Maybe it just started this year. I don't know, Ginny. You seem to think it's because of outside forces, and it embarrasses me to say it, but what if it's not? What if it's just my mental health shattering?" His eyes were circling around her face, searching for the answer.

Suddenly a light turned on from across the hallway. Ginny turned her face towards the light although she did not have a direct view of the room which was now being occupied by someone. She placed her finger on Harry's mouth and drew away from him. He followed silently.

"Kinglsey? Elphias? How are you two doing?" It was Lupin's voice.

There was some static until Kingsley Shacklebolt's low voice responded. "Nothing yet, Remus. Check back in later."

After a few minutes of silence, Ginny walked deliberately loudly to the doorway and saw Lupin sitting at a table by himself. His chin was resting thoughtfully on his fist until he spotted Ginny leaning against the threshold suggestively. He was surprised at her audacity, until the possibility crossed his mind that perhaps he was reading too much into it. Perhaps her hips naturally curved that way and to that degree.

"Good night, Professor," she called, her voice a bit husky.

He exhaled slowly. "Good night, Ginny."

Harry suddenly came into view, not having witnessed the exchange or his girlfriend's pose. "What are you up to, Professor?"

Lupin grinned deviously. "Don't ask unless you want to tell," he said, referring to what he and Ginny had been doing.

Both Harry and Ginny laughed. "Alright, we'll be off to bed then," Harry said. "Night." Lupin waved.

Once outside, Harry pressed his hand protectively onto Ginny's hip and led her down the hallway to the foot of the stairs. "I missed you so much," he whispered as they climbed the stairs, out of earshot.

"Me too," she replied, pushing her hand into his.

They were outside Harry's and Ron's room, but neither seemed intent on going inside. Instead they both walked towards Ginny's and Hermione's room as innocently as possible. Harry slammed open the door, pleased yet not in the least surprised to find that Hermione was not there.

She turned towards him and put her arms around his neck. Pressing her hips into his, she whispered seductively, "Shall we continue?"

Harry let out a slightly pathetic groan in response as her lips slid up his neck slowly to his ear.

Somehow they'd gotten to the bed, although Harry couldn't remember walking there. Perhaps Ginny had pushed him. She seemed eager and forceful tonight. He found he liked it very much.

His shirt was torn off of him, his arms gleaming in the moonlight, which was straying in from the window. Ginny licked down his torso and around his belly. It tickled and Harry would have laughed had Ginny not at that moment slipped her fingers under his waistband.

He ceased all movement and gasped, and she looked up at him wondering if she'd done something wrong. Shaking his head as if to say she hadn't, she returned her attention to his trousers, or more accurately, the zipper on his trousers.

Harry could safely say that he'd never seen anyone unzip anything with his or her teeth before, but Ginny did it masterfully. The thought that she'd done this to countless other boys before now crossed his mind painfully. But then he remembered that she'd probably done it to Malfoy too, and Harry thought he'd never been so hard in his life.

***

Draco Malfoy rarely rushed, so when he found himself quickly mounting his broom after Apparating right outside the Weasleys' grounds, he realized that what he was feeling right at that moment was completely wrong. He was betraying everything he'd ever known all for the love of a silly girl and an even sillier boy, something which he felt, at the same time, was more important than anything else.

He flew low to the ground, not conscious of the snow melting on his dark robes, towards the side of the house that Ginny's room was in. He spotted her window, and before kicking off upwards, he exhaled and reassured himself that it was just a small betrayal this time, barely worse than the vague warning he had given his girlfriend before.

He just had to tell her, warn her again that it was coming...soon.

He sighed once, blinking his eyes so the snow would not fall into them, and then he zoomed upwards, intent on knocking on her window again.

But when he was no more than five feet above the ground, a spell accompanied by a red light hit him in the back of his right shoulder and he fell, paralyzed, into the snow. A dark man emerged from the shadows and knelt to pick up Draco's stunned body. He stashed his wand away in the pocket of his large coat, and carried Draco and the broom across the snow into a small storage building beside the house.

The man muttered a password and the door opened slowly to reveal a tiny operating room. There was a desk which took up half the room and a petite lamp on top of it that lit the entire area dimly. In the corner of room opposite the door was a chair.

He laid Draco's body onto the chair carefully, making sure that he was not injured any more than he had been from the fall. When he was satisfied, the man held out his wand to his mouth and declared in a low voice, "Elphias, it's Kingsley. I've caught someone." He paused. "And I think it's a Malfoy."

A wheezy voice responded from the end of the wand. "Excellent work, Kingsley. Junior or Senior?"

"Junior. He must be Draco," the black wizard answered.

"See what you can find out from him," the raspy voice answered. Then a moment later, it said, "There's something going on here...I've got to go."

Kingsley Shacklebolt turned to the pale boy in the chair before him. He yelled, "Incarcerous" and thick ropes appeared and bound themselves onto Draco's static body and around the chair. "Enervate."

Draco Malfoy's eyes opened cautiously. He looked around him and realized he was bound. He kept his mouth shut as he caught sight of Kingsley, who was currently towering over him.

"Are you Draco Malfoy?" he asked in the same, low voice.

Draco didn't answer. Kingsley realized that the boy in front of him wasn't going to say anything until he was prodded.

"I'll take that as a yes. What were are you doing, flying around this house at such a late hour?"

Again, Draco didn't answer.

"It would be easier, for the both of us, if you responded to my questions. I won't have to resort to primeval behavior, and you won't have to get hurt."

Draco was still silent.

"Perhaps I should inform your father that you are he - "

"No!" Draco was surprised at how strong his voice suddenly was.

Kingsley fought a grin. "Alright, would you like to tell me what you are doing here, then?"

***

Ginny turned over in bed to watching a sleeping Harry, his chest rhythmically rising and falling with his breath. So, Harry's right age was seventeen, she thought to herself, remembering their first real conversation that year.

He'd been very quiet right afterwards, clearly uncomfortable. She wasn't distressed by it thought, because she knew sex changed things. It always changed things.

Ginny knew she wouldn't be able to fall asleep with her mind wandering like this. She had half a mind to nudge Harry's shoulder and ask him if he wanted to do it again, perhaps to help ease the distress or embarrassment or whatever it was that had made him shy away from her right after he'd let himself release.

But instead, without really understanding why, she crept silently into the downstairs hallway and pressed herself against the wall right outside the room that Professor Lupin had occupied earlier that evening. She held her breath and heard his rough movements from inside the room. He was tapping his fingers against the table, readjusting his position in the chair and occasionally letting out long sighs.

She didn't know what she was waiting for. Perhaps she was hoping that Lupin would check back in with Kingsley while she was listening, so she'd know what was going on.

Her back slid down the wall until she was in a sitting position on the floor. She turned her head to face the doorway and waited.

What seemed like hours later, she heard a buzz and then a soft wheezy voice say, "Remus, we've got Malfoy captive."

Ginny let out an icy breath. Malfoy? Captive? Surely they meant his father...

"Lucius?" Lupin asked at once.

There was a long pause before the voice answered, "There are others. Must go."

The static died down and it was so silent that Ginny was sure Lupin would be able to hear the pounding of her heart. She had to get away from there.

Lupin sighed again and whispered, "Malfoy..."

Ginny got to her feet somehow and was leaning against the wall because she felt she might faint otherwise. It was all she could do not to burst into the room and ask her former professor just what was going on and why people were being held captive. Not that Lucius Malfoy was an ordinary person...

She had to make sure Draco was okay.

Tiptoeing with much effort, she made her way silently into the living room and as far from Lupin as she could manage. Without much thought she tugged on the silver chain around her neck and rubbed the pendant. It opened up and she touched the tiny key inside.

Immediately, she felt as if her navel was being tugged over her head and she was spinning down a bottomless pit at full speed.

Before she knew it, she was sprawled out onto a floor she did not recognize. It was an oriental carpet designed with deep blood red and orange, and it felt rough against her cheek.

She lifted her head and found that she was in a library of sorts. Every wall was lined with shelves and shelves of books, however it was darker than the library at Hogwarts. She wondered where she was, trying to recall exactly what Draco had told her about the key inside the silver necklace. She had thought it was supposed to take her to him. Where was she?

Ginny shook her head and got to her feet, searching for an exit from the library. Glancing around the room, she saw silver M's placed on almost every piece of furniture and on every shelf. There could be no mistaking it. She was in Malfoy Manor.

***

"No, I would not like to tell you what I am doing here," Draco spat back. He watched the face of the man in front of him, all large and serious. He had a gold hoop earring in his right ear, and it gave Draco a sense of human in the man. Perhaps he could deal with this after all. But the room was dark and foreboding, which made Draco's stomach feel empty. Nothing like this had ever happened to him before, and he wasn't quite sure how to deal with it. "What right have you to tie me up like this?"

"What right have you to trespass onto private property?" Kingsley countered.

Draco looked away to the corner of the room, and tried to search the room for a sign. It was a tiny area; he imagined it would be difficult to fit three people in it, especially with the desk taking up half the room. He finally turned back to face Kingsley. "What time is it?" Draco asked.

"A quarter past three." He picked up a piece of paper from Lupin's desk and examined it closely before putting it back down. "I must ask you: do you have any special relations with Miss Ginevra Weasley?"

The younger boy began to chew on the insides of his cheeks, hoping Kingsley couldn't see him fidgeting. He couldn't give anything away. "Why do you ask?" Malfoy replied, slightly wide eyed.

"Do you know her?" the other man inquired determinedly.

This question was easier. "Yes. She goes to my school."

"What do you think of her?"

Malfoy looked at him incredulously from his bound position in the chair. "What kind of a question is that? She's a Weasley."

Kingsley sat down on the desk, deep in thought. "So you admit you have something against the Weasleys?"

He tried to move his knees, but they wouldn't budge. His body was in an extremely uncomfortable position, and if he wasn't released soon... he wasn't sure, but he was beginning to sweat. He focused on the words Kingsley had just said, and responded with the first thing that came to his mind. "If I denied it, would you believe me?"

"No, I wouldn't, Mr. Malfoy," the man answered truthfully.

Draco smiled sadistically, knowing this interrogation was not going to end soon. If only he could spread his legs a bit farther apart, he'd be more comfortable.

"How about Mr. Harry Potter?" Kingsley asked. "What do you think about him?"

"I didn't attack him like all the newspapers said, if that's what you're wondering." He thought he might scream, and Kingsley did not look satisfied with his answer. "I respect the boy. He and I are school rivals, not blood enemies. It is a crucial difference which most of the wizarding world has failed to grasp."

"I see. So what, then, are you doing here?"

Draco shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, trying to inhale and exhale in a normal manner. "May I ask what you're doing here?"

"I'm on guard duty," Kingsley revealed.

"And just who are you?"

"My name is Kingsley Shacklebolt."

The corners of Draco's mouth turned up in an eerie grin. "A few safety wards weren't enough? They needed guards too? And all this to protect Mr. Harry Potter, saviour of not only the whole wizarding world, but the entire fucking universe... That's what he is, you know. And a very good looking boy at that."

"You seem to know a lot about what's going on here."

The blonde boy narrowed his eyes. "So do you, Mr. Shacklebolt."

The man's wand started to buzz so he shot Draco a look before saying, "Don't be wise with me," and then leaving the room momentarily.

He returned not a moment later with a look of triumph on his face. Draco shook his head and said forcefully through barred teeth, "You're wasting your time with me. And while you're in here, the real threat to Potter's life is out there."

"I'll take my chances with you," Kingsley informed him with a knowing grin. "Besides, there are other guards."

"Thank you for that further piece of information," Draco remarked truthfully.

Kingsley leaned back in the chair. "If you don't tell me what you're doing here very soon, I will have to charge you with illegal trespassing."

Tiny beads were starting to collect on Draco's forehead and under his chin. "You're going to charge me anyway. I might as well not reveal anything."

"So you admit you have something to reveal?"

"Once again, Mr. Shacklebolt, if I denied it, would you believe me?" The older man shook his head. "Although, I do admit that what I'm hiding is really not what you're hoping it is."

"So it's something heinous?" He drew closer.

"No, you're hoping for something heinous," Draco spat in disgust. He knew this man wanted to incriminate him no matter what.

"Unfortunately for you, Mr. Malfoy, we know that it's something heinous." Draco looked at him inquisitively. "You see," Kingsley continued in his slow voice, "my partner found Walden Macnair and a young Mr. Theodore Nott on the grounds not long after I discovered you."

Draco dropped his head, unable to look the man in the eye.

"Although Macnair offered my partner no information, young Nott cracked."

"Fuck..." Draco whispered.

Kingsley sat back down on the desk. "'Fuck' is right, Malfoy. He said that you had helped Macnair with the plan and were going to follow through with it tonight along with himself and Macnair." Kingsley paused then looked at Draco's lowered head. "What have you to say?"

Draco had to think quickly. He needed to know exactly what Theo had said; otherwise he could not use words to persuade Kingsley of anything. He decided to take a different approach, so he lifted his head slowly and said jarringly, "Honestly? I doubt Theo will be quite able to finish his seventh year at Hogwarts."