Sunshine or Shadows

Chapter 8. The Mating Habits of Dementors

"Its perfect, I'll take it!"

Ginny snickered while she watched Hermione spin around in a deserted and dusty flat, grinning girlishly. The witch had obviously given up trying to make Ginny believe that moving out of the Burrow and skipping out on traditional school once again was anything but exhilarating, and her excitement was bubbling through uncontrollably now. Ginny cast an eye at the pocket of Hermione's cloak, sure that the girl's stowed wand would be emitting errant sparks; giddiness was a rather unpracticed emotion for Hogwarts' brightest student.

"Isn't it perfect, Ginny? I think it's perfect."

"Er," Ginny began, "if by perfect, you mean that it only has one window, which seems to have been cursed shut, and that the "kitchen" consists of a double sink and a fireplace barely large enough for a pixie to use, and that it smells like my brother Charlie after he's been cleaning out the dragon lairs..."

"Shut it," Hermione said, flashing another grin. "I love it. It's quaint, and uncluttered, and I feel it rather needs me. A few good spells will have this place smelling just fine."

"Right," Ginny murmured. She turned in a circle, spreading out her cloak as she did so, and ended in a mock curtsey. "My apologies to this exceptional flat, which is not tiny and dark and smelly as I had so inappropriately thought at first. I can see clearly now that it is indeed a forgotten palace. A fine lady in waiting, just a spell or two shy of making the cover of Fine Castles and Quarters."

Hermione withdrew her wand, pausing to send a sneer Ginny's way, and pointed it at the gray floorboard that stretched out cheerlessly before the two witches. She issued a soft, but deliberate, "Scourgify! " and Ginny looked on to admire the effect. A few shiny flecks of dust swirled around in the square of light provided by the flat's one window, and then floated indolently back down onto the dirty floor.

Ginny blinked and stared at the spot where Hermione had cast her spell. "That's amazing," she said. "I've never seen dirt just totally ignore a Scourgify before." She turned to her friend and laughed. "Mum has to see this. This place is filthier than the Burrow's basement."

With a sniff, Hermione pocketed her wand and pulled a scroll out of her cloak.

"Filthier than the crawl space in the back of the Burrow's basement even..." Ginny added. As she allowed herself another chuckle and coughed out the itchy bits of dust she'd inhaled, she heard a soft scratching sound and rounded on her friend.

"You've signed the lease?" she asked, mortified.

Hermione held the scroll up at her eye level and Ginny watched a neatly scripted "Hermione Jane Granger" wrap itself around the phrase "Binding Contract", glowing brightly in a harsh yellow and then settling back onto its signature line with a delicate puffing sound.

"Oh, Hermione..." was all Ginny could think to say. She coughed again, this time trying to suppress the sound, realizing that this was now her friend's ancient dust, and her friend's amazingly defiant grime...her friend's sad little window of light. "Oh, Hermione..." she said again.

"It's all right," Hermione reassured. She stepped forward to wrap her arm around Ginny and pocketed her scroll before leading them both to the door of the flat. "I think it's perfect, and I'll be very happy here, Ginny. I will." She stopped just before reaching the door and grinned again at the open space -- this time looking less giddy, to Ginny, and a bit more wry. This was the way people were used to seeing Hermione Granger smile: like only she could possible know why whatever it was that she was smiling at was making her so happy; mere mortals wouldn't understand.

"I only wish that you were staying here with me," Hermione added.

Ginny grimaced. She watched a large brown spider crawling around on the dingy corner of the window and imagined herself preparing a cup of tea at the sink. Compared with the prospect of indulging in the house elves' wonderful spread of tea and coffee, toast, eggs, sausages and kippers every morning under the magical ceiling of the Great Hall at Hogwarts, it was hard to imagine living in this lonely and depressing little flat. Yet, she thought, there was something about the idea of living on one's own -- with the friends and belongings that were all handpicked... Eventually, this place would be furnished and filled and Hermione would have selected everything from the chairs to the soap herself. This dusty little flat will feel more akin to herself than perhaps even her old bedroom at her parents' house.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "Me too."

Hermione gave Ginny's shoulder a friendly squeeze and opened the door, letting in a gust of nicer smelling air and bright light as she did so. "This will be our flat, Ginny -- when you graduate. I won't hear of you staying anywhere else."

Ginny grinned up at her friend and saw that Hermione's eyes had teared up with emotion. A swell of sentimentality choked Ginny's throat and she chewed thoughtfully on her cheek, turning back to wave a little goodbye to the spider on the windowsill. "Good things, little Ginny," she muttered internally to her ten-year-old alter ego, "will always come. Just hang in there for one more school year."

The two witches left the apartment building where Hermione had just magically bound herself to a one-year lease and chatted while they strode through the streets of London toward Diagon Alley. The brownstone buildings of King Lear Avenue were part of an all-wizarding community that held most of the magical population of the city of London. The buildings had been raised during the sixteenth century and the cobblestone streets were all named after the plays and characters of William Shakespeare, the great Muggle playwright who was rumored to have been chummy with all of the prevailing English wizard intellects of the time. The streets and avenues did not show up on Muggle maps or aerial views, and appeared only to witches and wizards after they entered the ruins of the old Blackfriars Theatre, just two blocks from Diagon Alley on Charing Cross Road.

As they walked, Ginny reflected on the fact that today was the last full day she had to spend with her friends and family before going back to Hogwarts. Wisely or not, she had spent the bulk of it planting spring bulbs in the Burrow's back garden before reluctantly agreeing to join Hermione on her house-hunting errands. All seemed to be settled now for the trio of friends: Hermione had some savings, a fully developed coursework plan, and a prospect or two for employment; and Ron and Harry had already found a flat on Macduff Street, in the same wizarding neighborhood as Hermione's apartment building. The two wizards had left the Burrow early in the morning, bright-eyed and full of themselves, to retrieve a sack of coins from Harry's vault in Gringott's in order to secure the place with one month's advance rent. The two seemed to be quite eager to move out on their own, like Hermione, and didn't appear too bothered by the fact that neither one had yet bothered to find a paying job.

Ginny had pondered the situation earlier in the day, while she poked holes in the patches of weeds, dropping in bulbs for Irises and Bluebells: It was the fall, she had determined. The crisp air, the turning leaves, the shortened days and comfortable nights of fall -- they all worked on the senses to remind every young person that a new school year was about to begin. People had always set spring up on a pedestal, Ginny mused, when it came to changes and such, but it was really autumn that affected the most remarkable and lasting alterations to a young person's life. New friends in a new environment, new challenges and new teachers shaping one's thoughts: these were the propitious promises of fall, to Ginny, and she quickly determined that it was the callings of autumn that had Ron and Harry and Hermione in such a hurry to find their new dwellings - away from the comforts of the Burrow.

The pending changes weren't lost on Mrs. Weasley either. Ginny had spent her evenings keeping company with the witch, asking again and again whether it wouldn't be best if she stayed behind to help out with things at home. Her mum had smiled each time and let out a patient sigh, always giving the same response: "You can't stay here forever, Ginny," she had repeated, "no matter how desperately your father and I want you to."

It had almost broken Ginny to listen, last night, as her mum stroked her hair and gave her final denial, whispering quietly as the wind whistled through the back screen door. "It's a mother's duty to let her children go, darling," she said, "and I'm not one to shirk out on duties. Now run along upstairs and pack up the rest of your robes, I've left the laundry basket outside your room."

After honoring her mum's wishes and sorting her Hogswarts things one last time, Ginny took a stolen broom ride to a place in the woods behind the Burrow where she knew wild flowers to grow. It was a spot that Bill had shown her ages ago, and Ginny always suspected it had once been the site of a well-cared for, spare-no-expenses garden -- the sort for which rich ladies would have hired handsome local men to plant and nurture. She spotted the long, brown leaves of spent spring bloomers and used her newly acquired gardening spells to dig up a pocketful of bulbs, planting them in the Burrow's garden the next day in a gesture of hope and well-wishing for her mum. Though they would scarcely be visible among the weeds and grasses in the summertime, Ginny knew that the bulbs she had planted today would stand out quite nicely in the spring.

Walking now along King Lear Avenue, Ginny was thinking about the garden. She smiled at Hermione, nodding her head and pretending to be interested in the employment prospects of a book store they had just passed while she calmed her own troubled thoughts. She needed to keep the worrying at bay by telling herself that her mum and her dad would be just fine once they'd all gone. They just had to, she thought. Ron and George and Percy would still keep them company on Sundays; perhaps the boys would visit on Saturdays as well. And, of course, she herself would send cheery news of Hogwarts' rebuilding as often as Errol would carry it. Ginny bristled in the cool night air and hoped that it would be enough.

"I'll pop by in the afternoon, after we've all seen you off to Hogwarts, and inquire as to whether they still have an opening," Hermione continued, unknowingly interrupting Ginny's thoughts. "I won't need much in terms of salary, since the flat was such a bargain," she said. "Oh, we're here."

Ginny looked ahead and saw that they had almost reached the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley. She took in a deep breath and prepared herself for the harsh changes in scenery and mood that she knew would befall them the moment Hermione pulled open the heavy oak doors. Ron and Harry were waiting for them there, as were George and Percy, Lee, Angelina and Katie, Neville, Luna and - with any luck - Hagrid too. She wanted to see everyone, and was keen to reestablish the tight bond she'd shared with Luna and Neville in particular, during their tumultuous terms at Hogwarts last year, but she also felt like she was bathed in a sickening pool of misery, regret, loss and confusion every time she was in the vicinity of Harry Potter these days. It took a concerted effort to prepare her body for the ensuing heartache. It was coming - she could sense it like animals sense the rain.

With a jarring whoosh, Hermione wrenched open the doors and ran into the crowd, flourishing her signed scroll at a beaming Ron. Harry was standing at the bar, talking to Hagrid and Percy, and turned immediately toward Ginny, making a beeline toward her. Ginny's heart lurched. A fresh sense of loss and abandonment swirled up within her and made her feel dizzy - even though she knew it was an exaggerated response.

She knew, in the place in her mind where all the sensible and rational thoughts were held, that Harry wasn't abandoning her: he was just taking steps to secure a future for him and everyone else. They weren't saying goodbye in a permanent sense, her commonsense told her - they weren't breaking up. Harry would be at Hogwarts for Hogsmeade weekends and Quidditch games and he would of course make good on his frequent promises to write as often as he could. Ginny repeated these thoughts inside her head as she accepted a quick kiss on the cheek, noticing that the spot on her face seemed to burn from it.

"Hi," Harry chirped. He looked happy - at ease among his friends and truly pleased to welcome Ginny into the packed tavern.

Ginny smiled in response, "Hi there, handsome," she replied. Harry beamed and ushered Ginny over to a huge table that was overflowing with loud Hogswarts students and alumni. He gave Hagrid a wave, and Ginny shouted a "Hello" at the half-giant.

"Ginny! Ginny, over here!"

Turning quickly, Ginny smiled at the sight of her dear friend, Luna, who was sipping happily on a blue drink that had three cocktail onions sticking out of it. Next to Luna, bent low and deep in conversation, was Neville, and Ginny strained her eyes to gauge whether the two were touching in any way: convinced as she was that the two friends held secret desires for one another. On Luna's other side was a very pretty brown-skinned girl who Ginny had never seen before.

Neville raised his head and smiled up at Ginny. "Ginny!" he shouted. "Come on over, we've got pitchers of Butterbeer here. Lee and Katie are in the back playing wizard darts. They'll be back as soon as someone loses an eye, I expect."

Ginny laughed and squeezed into a spot at Neville's side while Harry returned to his seat at the opposite end of the table. She leaned over to greet Luna properly and flashed a friendly smile at the newcomer. "Hello, I'm Ginny Weasley," she said. "I'm a friend of Neville and Luna here."

The girl held out her hand and gave Ginny a hearty shake. "I'm Natalie," she returned, smiling brightly. I'm Luna's country cousin."

Luna took a slow sip of her drink and set it down. She put a hand on her cousin's arm and gave the girl a gentle rub. "Natalie arrived yesterday so that she can board the Hogwarts Express with me in the morning. She's been home-schooled out in Berkshire, but her mum died during the war and so she won't be able to teach her anymore."

Natalie bristled a bit and Ginny's heart went out to the girl. She'd lost her mum, poor thing, and now would be attending a school away from home where she knew no one except her slightly bizarre, though thoroughly sweet cousin.

"Will you be staying with Luna in the Ravenclaw Tower?" Ginny asked.

"Doubt it," Natalie responded, smirking. "I don't think that I've got the brains for Luna's lot. Plus, my family has a bit of a reckless streak. I'll probably end up in --"

"Gryffindor." Ginny, Neville and George - who was sitting across from the others and leaning his one good ear in toward them - all responded in unison, and then broke out into chuckles.

"You look like a Gryffindor if I've ever seen one," George prodded. "And as I recall, the common room could use a few more pretty maidens. We always thought that the place needed more of a feminine touch, me and Fred." He closed his argument by winking at Natalie and then turned back to Angelina, whispering something in her ear.

Neville glanced up at Ginny and mumbled, "I think that Gryffindor looks good already."

Luna and her cousin both turned to Ginny and the three girls smiled. Neville's unassuming manner was such a welcome contrast to her brash brother. Although, Ginny had to admit, it was good to see George acting a bit more like...George. She reached across the table to give her brother a swat on the arm and mouthed a tiny, "thanks," to Neville.

The boisterous group stayed at the Leaky Cauldron until it was pitch black outside and they were the only customers left. Hagrid had long since left, saying that he had a meeting - which was later revealed by Ron to have been a hot date with Madame Rosmerta. Percy Apparated to his flat after Ron caught him dozing off in the back room. Those that remained played billiards, drank pitchers of Butterbeer and ate crisps, catching up on each other's summers and regaling their plans for the coming year.

Katie and Angelina had found jobs and apartments near Diagon Alley, selling Quidditch supplies during the day and taking evening courses in a nearby wizarding trade school. Katie was interested in magical nursing and Angelina had just signed on for a two-year study course in administration, hoping to find work at the Ministry of Magic upon graduating.

Ginny was surprised to hear that Lee Jordan had decided to hone his broadcasting skills, taking on an internship with the Puddlemere United Quidditch team in the announcer's booth, and taking over a Saturday night slot on a popular Wizarding Wireless station. He too was staying in London, moving in with George in Fred's old room in their Diagon Alley flat above the still-closed joke shop. She hadn't known Lee very well, during their time together at Hogswarts, but Ginny had always thought him to be a bright student, and couldn't help but feel a little bit disappointed at his choice: moving on into the world of entertainment rather than employing his brain in something more...useful.

Ginny sat at the table during a lull in conversation and watched carefully while George sipped on his mug, sharing the occasional joke but otherwise pretty quiet. Though he and his friends were known to be partiers, he seemed content today to sit and chat and enjoy a few games of billiards and wizard darts. Ginny hoped that this was a good sign.

"C'mon, I'm taking you for a walk."

Harry's voice was being amplified strangely inside Ginny's head. He'd snuck up behind her and had spoken directly into her ear. She shook her head to get rid of the tingling, and then turned around in her seat. "Oh, Harry," she thought. He was standing upright, looking tall and terribly grown up from Ginny's angle, and he was wearing a patient grin: two dimples threatening to tear down the last of her anti-Harry wards. It hadn't been easy, to stay mad at Harry for four days in a row, but she'd managed to avoid him enough at the Burrow to think that they were actually going to part more or less as estranged friends in the morning. The idea both saddened and comforted her.

"C'mon," Harry repeated, grinning again and ticking his head toward the back door of the darkened tavern.

Ginny frowned. She looked directly into her boyfriend's eyes, pleading with him silently to let her have more space and just a little bit more time. She wanted to stay mad for long enough that maybe she wouldn't miss him so much while she was away: studying like a school girl while he got on with his life. Harry ticked his head again and bit his lip, narrowing his eyes in a Hermione-like fashion. The act served to brand a thick line of guilt right into Ginny's conscience; she felt it smoldering and burning into her resolve. Nodding slowly and feeling once again dizzy with emotion, Ginny excused herself from her friends and followed Harry out the back door.

As soon as they were outside, Harry turned to face Ginny and grabbed both of her hands in his own. "We've only got tonight," he said, simply.

"I know," Ginny returned. Guilt was still working its way through her system, and she couldn't think of what to say now. Harry was right, mostly. There were few precious hours left for them to be together, and now that he was touching her, gazing at her and doing his best to chase away the remnants of her anger, she found herself wishing there were more minutes in each hour, more hours in a night. It was a familiar ache: she always seemed to be left wanting more, when it came to Harry.

"Natalie's nice," she blurted, unsure of where this particular thought had come from.

Harry didn't respond, but moved in closer and stared at Ginny until she had no choice but to look directly back at his dusty glasses, and the playful green eyes behind them. "Oh, Harry," she thought again. "This is really going to hurt." She sucked in a lungful of the evening's brisk air and held it. The sweet smell of autumn calmed her nerves a bit and Ginny took a moment to allow her mind to gain control of her body, choking back a threatened sob and forcing out a smile as she released her breath. A shaky sound escaped her as she did this, and Harry's eyes immediately took on a look of concern.

"Oh, no you don't," Ginny thought, collecting herself and standing up a bit straighter. "You aren't going to stand there and feel sorry for me, Harry Potter." She reached a hand up and touched Harry's cheek. "Are you going to just stand there?" she asked. "Or are you going to make good use of the night we've got?"

Harry smiled again. He leaned in further, brushing Ginny's lips and muttering, "I'm going to miss you. I'm going to miss you so much."

A scream - faint and faraway - shook both Ginny and Harry just as they closed their eyes for their moment of intimacy, and Ginny's hand instinctively flew to the pocket of her cloak. Harry spun around and grabbed Ginny, thrusting her behind him as he cast his stag Patronus -- lighting the street with its brilliant, silvery white glow.

"Dementors, I'm sure. I can feel them," he said.

He ran in the direction of the scream and Ginny ran after him. They went up Diagon Alley and followed Harry's stag into a clearing, where Ginny cast her own mare Patronus and watched proudly as it kept pace with the long legs of its larger companion.

"Where is it?" she asked.

"There," Harry said.

At the end of the grassy park that they had run to, she looked just past the galloping Patronuses and saw a hag leaning on a rubbish bin, shaking from head to toe. Ginny ran over to the hag and knelt down next to her. "Are you all right?" she asked. The hag nodded and stood up taller, stumbling forward and panting. "Was it a Dementor?" Ginny asked.

The hag nodded and walked over to Harry, giving him a wink and a firm pat on the cheek before wrapping her cloak around herself tightly and walking off in the direction of Knockturn Alley.

"Right. You always get all the credit," Ginny teased. "Women can't get enough, it seems, of being saved by the dashing Harry Potter."

Harry winced. "That was a hag, Ginny."

"Yeah, well, your appeal seems to cross species boundaries, then, doesn't it?"

Harry frowned and waved his wand about, directing the stag to circle the park and scrutinizing the dark corners. "It seems to have gone," he said after a moment.

"Yeah," Ginny replied. She walked over to a park bench and plopped down on it. The stag was galloping back toward Harry and Ginny felt slightly embarrassed that her mare was tagging along behind it, wagging its long tail like a doting puppy dog. She stuffed her wand in her pocket and extinguished the thing.

"That's the problem," Harry said. He walked over to Ginny's bench and stood in front of her. The silver stag behind him cast Harry in brilliant relief. "We only know how to scare them off, and they don't have Azkaban to go home to any longer."

Ginny squinted in the bright light of Harry's Patronus and he took a seat next to her, relieving her from having to look straight into the glare. "I'm joining a team," he said, "at the Ministry. We've been tasked with finding a way to capture them, somehow, so that we can lead them to a safe place rather than to just send them back off into the world."

He grinned. "They're actually going to pay me."

"Where will they go?" Ginny asked.

"We don't know yet," Harry said. "That's one problem: they are attracted to despair, so they like to hang out near jailhouses, mental institutes, homes where people are particularly distressed, cemeteries...places like that. The safest strategy we can think of right now is to send them to abandoned buildings known to be haunted by ghosts -- and letting the suffering of the ghosts keep them content for as long as they can."

"Poor ghosts," Ginny said.

"Yeah," said Harry. "It doesn't seem fair, does it? Still, though, they can't be kissed -- as they're already dead."

"So," Ginny said, deciding to lighten up the conversation and steer it away from the subject that she most hated: her own abandonment by her heroically obsessed boyfriend. "That'll be that, then. You and your Ministry group can go out and catch these smelly old things and send them to haunted mansions and cemeteries and then we can get on with our lives?"

Harry smiled. He threw an arm around Ginny and pulled her into his chest, looking out into the park and beaming up at his stag. "He's staying for a long time, today. Did you notice that?"

Ginny watched the animal. It lifted a paw and pushed it into the grass, still staring out into the alley, importantly.

"There's more to it than just finding them a home, I'm afraid," Harry said. He kissed the top of Ginny's head and pushed his lips into her hair. "We need to find a way to stop them from mating."

"Ewe," Ginny said. She chewed on her lip as Harry dropped a few more kisses into her hair and bent her head in order to expose her neck to his affections. "How do they mate, anyway?"

"Don't know," Harry whispered. He moved a hand up to brush Ginny's long hair over her shoulder and swept his lips across the bare skin of her neck. "We know that they are asexual, but they seem to have to be turned on in order to reproduce. Kind of a hybrid between plant and animal -- it's bizarre."

Harry's words buzzed inside Ginny's ear, sending electric pulses skipping through her. She closed her eyes and sucked in another deep breath. The night was quiet now, her anger at being deserted had been effectively nullified, and the only things left now to keep her from enjoying every morsel of attention that her boyfriend was throwing her way were their strange conversation and an incredibly bright Patronus, which was now pacing ostentatiously in front of the bench. Harry placed a line of wet kisses along her neck and ear, and Ginny glared at the stag, wondering how she was going to survive such an assault to her nerve endings. "Yes, this is going to hurt big time," she thought.

"Hmm," she managed, "that's interesting. In a sick, disgusting kind of way." She grabbed the wood slats of the bench seat with both hands and pressed into them. "What...what turns them on?" It was a strange question, she thought, but her mind wasn't into the conversation enough to think of anything more intelligent to ask. Perhaps Dementors liked to be tickled under their cloaks, or had a soft spot for hairy toes.

Harry laughed, tickling Ginny's ear with warm breath as he did it. "Oh, probably the usual," he said. "Suicide, death, ugliness, wails, moans, cries. The more horrifying, the better."

Ginny twisted around and threw her legs over Harry's lap, wrapping her arms around him and waiting to be kissed. She felt his wand, which must have been balancing on his knee, and reached a hand down to grab it.

"Okay, enough talk," she said, and she flourished the wand about until the stag disappeared. "My only-daughter senses are telling me that we're about to be discovered any minute now and I can think of much better things to be doing with those lips of yours."

Harry growled and latched onto Ginny's mouth. Bathed in darkness and drunk with a sense of desperate need, Ginny held tight to Harry and kissed back, letting him feel the full impact of her emotional state. "I'll make you miss me, Harry Potter," she thought. "More than you ever thought you could."