The Final Reckoning

Chapter Ten: Secrets, Past and Present

Harry walked out of the Chief Prosecutor's office on Saturday afternoon feeling drained and angry. Drained, from the emotional toll of answering the Chief Prosecutor's questions, and angry, from being put through a mock cross-examination by the same prosecutor.

'The questions I'm going to ask you now are the ones most likely to be asked by Malfoy's lawyers during cross-examination,' said the Chief Prosecutor, a man called Michael D'Amico.

D'Amico had then launched into those questions, nearly all of which were hostile.

'Is it not true that these visions you claim to have cause you to behave strangely? To black out and get sick?'

'Is it not true that you coerced five of your friends to go with you to break into the Department of Mysteries?'

'Is it not true that your actions that night led directly not only to the death of Sirius Black, your godfather, but to the escape of You-Know-Who?'

'Is it not true that You-Know-Who has possessed your mind many times in the past? How can this court be sure that you are not currently in his power?'

'Harry, are you all right?'

Harry blinked, his thoughts wrenched back to the present. Remus Lupin was walking next to him, speaking to him.

'I'm fine,' Harry lied.

'No, you're not,' said Lupin evenly.

'Okay, I'm not,' said Harry irritably.

'I'm sorry--'

'This would be a lot easier if you'd stop apologizing,' Harry snapped, without thinking.

'Of course,' said Lupin easily.

At once Harry felt his face redden. He stopped walking and ran a hand through his hair.

'I'm sorry,' he said quickly. 'I shouldn't snap at you, I just...those bloody questions. He just kept...hammering away.'

'It's to prepare you for what's to come,' said Lupin. 'Malfoy's lawyers know that the case against Lucius Malfoy is weak. Even with your testimony, and Draco's, there's no physical evidence to bolster the prosecution's side. Malfoy's lawyers will do everything they can to discredit you. The best way to do that is to make you look unbalanced, and as someone who's always seeking attention...'

'Just like the Ministry did,' Harry said glumly. 'Did D'Amico do this with Draco, too?'

'Undoubtedly,' said Lupin. 'Although I imagine it was worse for Draco. You've had some experience dealing with people being against you. Draco hasn't. Well, at least, not like this.'

'I'm supposed to feel sorry for Draco Malfoy?' Harry said darkly.

'I never suggested that,' said Lupin, as they started walking again. 'I know your history with him. But he's in the same place you were not all that long ago--everything crashing down on him. You came through it, because you're strong, you have loyal friends on your side. Draco, on the other hand...well, let's just say his Slytherin cronies haven't been exactly showering him with support.'

'Why not?' said Harry, surprised. Draco had always been the de facto leader of Slytherin house, even when he was a mere second year.

'They don't want to associate with him,' said Lupin. 'Draco's father is a known Death Eater and he's on trial for murder, among other things.'

'Yeah, but Draco testified against him--'

'That doesn't matter,' said Lupin. 'The average Slytherin is primarily concerned with self-preservation, don't forget. Associating with the Malfoy family at this time would hardly be considered wise. And those Slytherins who are a bit more thoughtful are likely to have been told by their parents to stay away from Draco, for their own safety.'

Harry nodded, but he suddenly didn't feel much like thinking about Draco Malfoy. The whole situation was confusing enough for Harry without the nagging feeling of pity for his most hated school rival tickling at the back of his mind.

And then Harry realized that he hadn't bothered to read today's issue of The Daily Prophet, which would have reported on the testimony Draco had given yesterday.

'Professor...Remus,' Harry said, as they climbed aboard a lift. 'How did Draco do yesterday? Did he, er, crack at all?'

'Not too badly,' said Lupin, pressing the button for the ground floor. 'All things considered. Malfoy's lawyers went after him hard but he managed to hold up fairly well.'

Harry nodded again, and then something else occurred to him as the lift doors slid shut.

'So, Draco's done with testifying?' he asked.

'Not quite,' said Lupin. 'It looks like the prosecutor will want to do a bit of re-direct on Monday morning, just to re-iterate everything. It keeps things fresh in the jury's mind. Why do you ask?'

'No reason,' Harry said quickly, looking away and feeling his stomach plummet as the details of Ron's vision came screaming back into his head.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Harry Flooed back to the Burrow shortly thereafter. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were out, according to Ron (who made a face as he relayed this information) for a rare 'romantic' evening alone. Percy was with Penelope.

The first thing Harry did after hearing this was to gather Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the living room and ask Ron if he'd had any other visions or dreams about Lucius Malfoy's trial.

'No, mate,' said Ron. 'Why?'

'Draco's not done testifying, that's why,' said Harry uneasily. 'He's going to be called back on Monday. When I'm there, when we're all there.'

For a long moment nobody said a word. It was Hermione who broke the silence.

'I'm getting my list,' she announced, and she hurried upstairs and returned shortly thereafter with a roll of parchment and a quill in her hand.

'Okay,' she said, her eyes glittering as she unrolled the parchment. 'Let's look at what we have so far.'

Harry and Ginny, who were sitting on the sofa, made room for Ron and Hermione to squeeze in next to them. Harry bit his lip and willed his face not to get red when he felt Ginny's bare thigh against his own. Good lord, it was smooth. His stupid, rebellious face got red, anyway. Thankfully, Ginny didn't seem to notice, as she was looking avidly at The List. Harry dragged his eyes away from Ginny's glistening copper hair and focused them on Hermione's parchment.

THE LIST

1. Voldemort hurt in battle at Riddle House; nose bleed. Harry's blood.

2. Voldemort believes Harry's blood has ancient magic protecting it (from Lily Potter).

3. Harry and Voldemort engage in physical and mental battle just before Voldemort Disapparates. Injury to Voldemort occurred here?

4. Harry's scar doesn't hurt for nearly four weeks, then starts hurting again on the same night Ginny has dream of Tom Riddle.

5. Ron has vision of Lucius Malfoy's trial: Draco on the stand; L.M.'s lawyer questioning/accusing Draco; Draco upset; L.M. smug; judge banging gavel; courtroom crowded.

'My dreams aren't on here,' Ron said.

'I know,' said Hermione. 'I've been going over them and...something occurred to me.'

'What about Ron's dreams?' Harry asked.

'Well, Ron's had recurring dreams about a sword,' said Hermione. 'The sword is really old looking and it has an etched silver blade, and the handle has red stones in it--'

'Wait a minute,' said Harry. 'That sounds like Godric Gryffindor's sword.'

Ron's eyes widened. 'That's it!' he said excitedly. 'Dammit, I knew I was missing something. Second year, down in the Chamber of Secrets! You brought that sword back with you--'

'I used it to kill the Basilisk,' Harry finished.

'How did you get it?' Hermione asked, her own eyes like saucers.

Harry paused, remembering.

'Fawkes,' he said.

'What?' said Ginny.

'Fawkes,' said Harry. 'You know, Dumbledore's phoenix. He showed up in the Chamber and he brought the Sorting Hat with him. And I had no idea what the hell I was supposed to do with the Sorting Hat, right? And Tom Riddle, he was laughing at me but then, I remember I put the hat on and...and the sword just sort of appeared out of thin air. And later on, after we got out, I remember I was talking to Dumbledore and he said, only a true Gryffindor could pull the sword out of the hat. But...why would Ron be dreaming about that sword?'

'I don't know, exactly,' said Hermione, glancing at Ron. Ron nodded, apparently content to let her explain. 'But,' she went on, 'in that dream, the sword had blood on it. Maybe it means Ron was just dreaming about the sword after you'd killed the Basilisk. But Ron had another dream. One with a man in it. A medieval looking man in a red tunic with a gold crest. He was wielding the sword like he was going to use it to fight something. And there was noise. Hissing. Only Ron couldn't figure out where it was coming from.'

Harry looked at Ron, then at Hermione, then at Ginny. She shifted slightly and her thigh rubbed against his. He wished she would hold still. He was trying, after all, to focus on the matter at hand. But she didn't seem to notice that she was being distracting.

'You don't think--' Harry started to say, if only to keep his mind turned to what they were discussing, instead of Ginny's smooth, slim thigh against his.

'I think,' said Hermione, 'that the man in Ron's dream was Godric Gryffindor, and that the hissing was coming from Salazar Slytherin. It was Parseltongue.'

'Really?' said Harry.

'Really?' said Ron; clearly he hadn't thought to interpret his dream that way.

'Yes, really,' said Hermione. 'Well, it certainly seems the most logical explanation. And Gryffindor and Slytherin did have a huge falling out, remember. According to Hogwarts, A History: Revised Edition, Slytherin had the most contentious relationship with Gryffindor. When they had their falling out, it nearly came to blows, but Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff intervened. Slytherin left and seems to have disappeared after that. And of course he left behind the Chamber--we all know that.'

'What does this have to do with Harry?' said Ron.

'Ron, you said the man in your dream had green eyes,' said Hermione.

'So?' said Ron, and then he looked at Harry and his jaw went slightly slack. 'Oh,' he said.

'What?' said Harry.

'Harry,' said Ginny, 'I think what Hermione is suggesting is that you might be related to Godric Gryffindor.'

Harry stared at Hermione for a long moment before snorting out loud.

'You're joking, right?' he said.

'Harry, Voldemort was the Heir of Slytherin,' said Hermione. 'What if part of the reason he wants to kill you is because you're the heir of Slytherin's most hated enemy? What if...you're the Heir of Gryffindor?'

'Wait a minute,' said Harry, standing up. 'Come on, Hermione. That's mad. First of all, we don't even know for certain that's the man Ron dreamed about. Second, lots of people have green eyes, okay? That could be just a coincidence--'

'But the sword, Harry,' Hermione persisted. 'Only a true Gryffindor could use it--'

'You're all Gryffindors!' said Harry. 'True Gryffindors, I might add. Any one of you could have pulled the sword out of that hat. Dumbledore never said it could only be done by the heir. And...besides, wouldn't someone have mentioned by now if I were? Dumbledore--'

'Maybe there's a reason he hasn't said anything,' said Hermione.

'Oh, right, the old "Dumbledore has his reasons" canard, again?' Harry said sarcastically, and now he began to pace, because it was the only thing keeping him from really losing it.

'Harry, how much do you know about your parents?' Hermione asked.

'What?' Harry asked, unbalanced by the sudden change in topic.

'How much do you know about James and Lily Potter?' Hermione said.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Harry asked, feeling very defensive. 'I know about them.'

I do, he thought. Well, somewhat. I mean, I know they got together in seventh year. I know my dad was a prat when he was fifteen, but that he had a crush on my mum even back then. I know my mum was a Muggle-born and my dad was a pure-blood. I know I take after my dad in looks except for my eyes; I have my mum's eyes. My mum had red hair, and she was really pretty. My dad was an ace Chaser on the Quidditch team but he had the reflexes to have been a Seeker if he'd wanted. My dad was popular. He was an Animagus--he could change into a stag. After they finished school they got married and then they had me and they joined the Order of the Phoenix. I know they went into hiding from Voldemort but that they trusted Wormtail with their secret, and he betrayed them and Voldemort murdered them. And...and...

And what? Is that it? What about when they were kids? What about after they left school? They would have gotten jobs, wouldn't they? Where did they live? Before they went into hiding, I mean? And...just what had they done to defy Voldemort three times?

'Harry?' said Ginny gently.

'You don't know very much about them, do you?' said Hermione softly.

Harry looked at her, then at Ron, then at Ginny.

'No,' he managed. 'No, I don't. Dumbledore didn't tell me...'

'Did you ask?' said Hermione.

'No,' said Harry sharply.

'Why not?' she said, unfazed by his brusque tone.

'Because...maybe I didn't want to know, all right?' he snapped. 'It was bad enough finding out my dad was an arrogant berk in his fifth year and that my mum once hated him.'

'What do you mean--' Hermione began.

'Forget I said that,' Harry said at once, holding up his hand. 'I don't want to talk about that, okay?'

Hermione nodded, but then she took a deep breath and spoke, a bit hesitantly.

'Harry, maybe...maybe if you found out more about your parents, you could understand better about...your connection to Voldemort,' she said. 'And about how to kill him.'

Harry sat down again, across from them.

'Harry,' said Hermione. 'Maybe I'm...completely wrong and you're not related at all to Godric Gryffindor. But...I can't help but think that Voldemort isn't just singling you out because of that prophecy. I think there's something else going on, and it has to do with your parents. There has to be a reason he went after them three times--and this was before you were born, possibly before you were even conceived.'

Harry stared at her. 'How did you know that? The part about...my parents defying Voldemort three times? I never--'

Hermione blushed and looked at Ron, then down at her hands. 'I...I wrote to Dumbledore right after we left school, and he told me. I...just wanted to help and I had a feeling you didn't tell us everything in the prophecy--'

'I only--' Harry began.

'Not because you meant to keep it from us,' Hermione said quickly. 'Just...you didn't think about that part, because you were focused on the part where you have to...kill Voldemort.'

'Harry,' said Ron, 'er...you know, Hermione could be right. Maybe you...er, we...should start looking into what your parents did. It might help you more than my stupid dreams.'

'But we shouldn't discount the dreams,' said Hermione at once. 'Or the visions. And of course there's the possibility of a connection with Ginny - her nightmare and Harry's scar hurting--'

'Shit!' Harry groaned.

Hermione gasped.

'Sorry, he said.

He groaned again and ran a hand through his hair.

'This is all really confusing,' he said at last. 'There's just...too much STUFF. Makes my damn head hurt. And no, it's not my scar,' he added, when Hermione started to speak. 'It's just a headache.'

'You're not alone there,' said Ginny, rubbing her temples.

'This is going to be a repeat of last year, isn't it?' said Ron, sitting back heavily on the sofa. 'Research up the bloody--'

'Ron,' said Hermione.

'Yeah, yeah, don't swear,' said Ron, rolling his eyes. But there was only affection in them as he looked at his girlfriend, and she smiled at him.

Harry looked away, not wanting to think about anything to do with girlfriends. Bad enough to have all this rubbish hanging over his head without falling into his daily lonely, horny, desperate, pathetic thing.

'Well, I'm starving,' Ron announced.

'Gee, that's a surprise,' said Ginny sarcastically.

'Hey, it's past dinner time,' Ron protested. 'And Mum forgot to make us something. She was so happy about having a romantic night with Dad--'

'Ew, Ron, don't go there,' said Ginny.

'Hey, don't look at me,' said Ron, looking appalled at the idea of the word 'romance' being in the same sentence with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. 'I'm just repeating what she said. To hear her go on about it...' He shuddered. 'I think I'm scarred for life,' he added.

'I think it's sweet,' said Hermione. 'Why shouldn't your parents have a romantic evening? They don't get much time to spend together.'

'Hermione, they're our parents,' said Ginny.

'So?'

'So...yuck,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes.

'Oh, honestly,' said Hermione. 'You have six brothers, Ginny. I don't think any of you appeared out of thin air!'

'Hermione!' Ron yelled. 'That's disgusting!'

'No, it's not!' Hermione yelled back. 'It's perfectly normal. We have sex, why shouldn't your parents?'

The moment the words left her mouth, she blanched. Then she blushed and clapped a hand over her mouth. She looked at Harry with something like horror. Ron's ears were so red Harry thought they might spontaneously combust at any moment.

'Oh, Harry... I'm so sorry,' said Hermione.

'For what?' said Harry.

'Well, I mean...' she stammered.

'Hermione,' said Harry, 'if you're going to apologize for anything, apologize for filling my head with the scary image of you and Ron shagging--'

'Hey!' Ron said indignantly.

'--but not because you brought up the fact that you and Ron do have sex and I'm not having it anymore,' Harry finished.

'Hermione and me shagging is not scary!' Ron said angrily.

'Oi, Ron,' said Ginny, rolling her eyes. 'Maybe not for you two, okay, but if it's all the same I'd rather not continue this discussion on the sexual habits of my relatives!'

'Hear, hear,' said Harry. 'Not that they're technically my relatives--'

'Harry, I didn't mean to--' Hermione huffed.

'Drop it, Hermione,' Harry said, holding up his hands. She gave him a snippy look and folded her arms indignantly across her chest.

Ron opened his mouth, as though he wanted to say something else, but Ginny gave him a pointed look. He scowled at her.

'Fine,' he said, still looking affronted. 'I'll just make dinner, then. Hopefully that won't be too scary for you two.' He nodded sharply at his sister and Harry.

And with that, Ron stalked into the kitchen, followed by Hermione, who shot both Harry and Ginny a nasty look.

'Ron can cook?' Harry muttered to Ginny.

'Yeah,' said Ginny in a low voice. 'He learned from Mum. We all did, but we never get much of a chance because Mum's so bloody anal-retentive about cooking everything herself. 'Specially when you're here.'

'So you can cook, too?' Harry said.

'Yeah, I can,' said Ginny, shrugging. 'But Ron's way better at it than I am. Next to Mum, he's probably the best cook in the family.'

'You're kidding,' said Harry, trying very hard to imagine Ron in an apron, carefully adding herbs to a stew.

'No, I'm not,' said Ginny. 'But don't tell him I said that.'

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An hour later the four of them sat down to dinner; Harry had immediately apologized to Ron upon getting a whiff of the delicious aromas emanating from the kitchen, and Ron coolly accepted. Hermione was still acting a bit aloof, but Harry said nothing. She was just being...Hermione. She'd come around.

Harry had to admit Ginny was absolutely correct about Ron's skills at cooking. The chicken pie Ron had made was nothing short of delicious, and the chocolate cake was quite stellar as well. Harry ate his fill, and then some.

They went to bed not long after, sleepy and full. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had still not come back from their romantic evening.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next day, Hermione and Harry were back on speaking terms. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had come home rather late from their evening, and both of them seemed to be more than usually cheerful at breakfast. Ron and Ginny watched their parents with disgusted looks on their faces, as Harry and Hermione tried to hide their amusement.

After breakfast, they tried to do homework, but the day was so fine out that after only a half hour of studying they gave up and took advantage of the weather with some Quidditch practice. Hermione bravely joined them--she still wasn't much at flying but Harry had to give her credit for trying, all the same.

As the afternoon wore on, it became very hot, and the four of them decided to don swimming costumes and take a swim at the lake. Harry was all for this until they got to the lake and he got a good look at Ginny in the scrap of material she called a bikini.

She really does have freckles all over.

Stop it, perv! Ron's sister--

Looks good enough to eat.

Bloody hell.

It didn't help that she looked even more enticing emerging from the lake, soaking wet, her skin glistening and her hair wet and hanging down her back. His eyes landed on shimmering droplet of water that hovered in the hollow of her throat and then streamed slowly down between her breasts.

Those things are going to be the death of me, Harry thought.

Then stop staring at them, you horny git!

'Harry? Are you okay?' she asked, as she flopped down onto her towel. The action caused her breasts, which were barely contained by her bikini top, to bounce.

She's killing me, Harry thought. I'm going to die. I hope she didn't catch me looking...

Snape in a dress...

'I'm fine,' he lied, turning over onto his stomach to hide the embarrassing things that were happening in his swim trunks.

For the rest of the afternoon he was forced to come up with as many disgusting mental images as possible to counter the vision of Ginny wearing almost nothing. It didn't help that she was both deliciously, femininely curvy and lean and athletic at the same time. The play of her muscles against the swell of her breasts and the flare of her hips...

Snape in a thong!

By the time they all headed back to the Burrow, Harry had a massive, crushing headache and no small amount of discomfort down below, and not for the first time that day, he rather wished he was back at Privet Drive. At least there, he had his own room and could deal with sexual frustration properly.

After dinner the four of them returned to studying. Harry had trouble focusing on his many essays - his mind kept returning to all the questions the prosecutor had given him, questions he had insisted Harry study in preparation for giving his testimony. He turned his attention to them and tried to study them, but still his mind wandered. To his scar hurting, to Ron's vision, to Ginny and all those freckles she had...

I'm going to get slaughtered on the stand, he thought. I can't keep my stupid head on straight.

It was somewhat late when the four of them turned in. Ron fell asleep almost at once. Harry closed his eyes and tried to, but his head was still hurting, and he kept hearing Chief Prosecutor D'Amico's voice in his head, pounding away with his questions.

After a half hour of tossing and turning Harry opened his eyes and groaned softly. He had to be in court by eight tomorrow morning, and here it was, well after midnight, and he couldn't sleep.

He closed his eyes for a moment and then it happened.

Sharp, searing pain in his scar. Pain so intense it made him gasp, made his whole body tense, made his eyes water.

He grabbed at his scar and felt the puckered skin burning. The sharpest of the pain faded, leaving a heavy throbbing in its wake.

He blinked again, willing his eyes to focus in the darkness, and groped the dresser-top for his glasses. Slipping them on, he felt another sharp pain in his scar and for the first time in weeks, he felt something else.

Emotion. From Voldemort. He was pleased about something...

No! Harry thought wildly. This can't be happening, not yet, I'm not ready...

He sat up in bed, gripping his forehead with one hand. Ron slept on - Harry was beginning to think that Ron could probably sleep through anything. He started toward Ron's bed to wake him, when he remembered something...

Use Legilimency, you stupid prat! You know, that thing you do where you try to read his mind?

Harry lay back on the bed, closing his eyes again, willing himself to push past the pain tearing him in his forehead. He moved beyond it, and the pain, so sharp and breathtaking a moment ago, became a dull throb. And then he heard the high-pitched, cold, empty voice. It was hissing...

And then he saw them. Red eyes, red as blood, and the white face, with its thin skin stretched taut, smiled. A lipless, blood-curdling smile. The lipless mouth moved but Harry couldn't make out what it said...

Harry gave a small cry as the pain in his scar roared again, and he sat up in bed, his eyes open. Voldemort was gone.

But the pain in Harry's scar raged, and the image of Voldemort's red eyes lingered like a stain...

And then, Harry thought of Ginny. What if...

At once he forgot about waking Ron, and made a grab for his wand under his pillow. He staggered weakly out of Ron's room and crept, quietly as he could, down the stairs, his ears straining for the sound of Ginny's voice. When he reached her bedroom door, he found it closed, and on pressing his ear to the door, he heard nothing.

The silence was frightened to him. He had to check...

Very carefully, he turned the doorknob; it opened with a soft click, and very slowly, he pushed the door open.

The room was bathed in moonlight. Hermione was sleeping soundly in the spare bed, her bushy hair spread out all over her pillow, one arm thrown over her eyes, the other splayed out beside her.

Ginny's bed was empty.

Harry started to panic - why wasn't she in bed? - when he heard a soft shuffling sound coming from downstairs. He quickly backed out of Ginny's room, closing the door softly behind him. Then he crept down the stairs, and heard it again: shuffling.

He held his wand out in front of him, debating whether or not to call out to her. If it was she down there, and he announced his presence, he avoided startling her half to death. But if it wasn't her, and it was a Death Eater or some other intruder, if he announced his presence he gave the intruder the advantage.

He was in the living room, moving quietly toward the kitchen when a small form leapt out and pointed a wand right in his face.

'Ginny, it's me!' he hissed quickly.

Ginny gasped. 'Bloody hell!' she hissed back. 'Harry, you scared me half to death!'

'Likewise,' said Harry, his heart racing. 'Er, do you mind lowering that thing?' he added, nodding at her wand.

'Right,' she said, and she lowered her wand; he could see her blush in the moonlit darkness.

'It's okay,' said Harry. 'I just...I've seen what you can do with that thing and I don't fancy a Bat Bogey Hex.'

Ginny laughed softly.

'What are you doing up?' she asked.

'Oh,' said Harry, and he started to try and think up an excuse, but the way she was looking at him...

You can't put anything past her, Potter.

'My scar,' he said, and before he could elaborate another sharp pain took him and he winced and put a hand up to it. 'Dammit, I wish it would stop doing that.' He began to rub at it.

'Take it easy, Harry,' said Ginny, advancing on him, 'or you'll rub your skin right off.'

She reached up and took his wrist in her small hand and lowered his hand. He shuddered from the contact.

'Cold?' she asked.

'No,' said Harry, trying to look anywhere but in her eyes, which looked amber in the dimness of the room.

She turned her eyes up to his scar and traced a finger over it, back and forth. The pain began to ebb. Harry closed his eyes, not sure where the relief was truly coming from, and not truly caring. It was enough that she was so close to him. He noticed that she smelled of vanilla...

'Better?' she asked, pulling back from him. Harry opened his eyes and felt himself plummet back to reality.

'Better,' he heard himself say, and she smiled and turned and started back into the kitchen. He watched her and slowly something began to dawn on him.

This wasn't the first time he'd felt better after she'd touched him.

That's because you're a horny bastard and you've got a good-looking girl putting her hands on you. Any bloke would feel better for that...

No, it's more than that. She touched my scar and it stopped hurting.

'How did you do that?' he heard himself ask, as he followed her into the kitchen. He noticed that she was making a pot of tea.

'Do what?' she asked, and Harry caught the evasiveness of her tone at once. The feigned innocence...

She busied herself with putting herbs in a pot.

'Make my scar stop hurting,' said Harry.

Ginny stopped what she was doing and her shoulders went stiff.

'I don't know what you mean,' she said finally.

'Yeah, you do,' said Harry, and he walked right up to her and stood next to her and stared at her. 'You touched my scar and it stopped hurting. That's not the first time, either.'

She looked up at him defiantly. 'So?' she said.

'So, Ginny,' said Harry impatiently, 'nobody else has been able to do that. I rub my scar all the time and it hurts anyway. But you...'

'I'm sure it's just a coincidence,' said Ginny quickly, looking down at the teapot now full of herbs.

'Quite a coincidence, though, isn't it?' Harry persisted.

'Harry, what are you trying to say?' said Ginny impatiently, putting a hand on a hip and looking up at him sharply.

'Nothing,' said Harry at once, feeling a bit defensive. 'I'm just curious - OW!'

Another sharp pain seared through his scar.

'It's okay,' said Ginny at once, and before he could stop her she moved his fringe back with her hand and laid it completely on his scar. The scorching heat lifted, replaced by a soothing coolness.

He stared down at her; he felt slightly light-headed, and then he noticed her face. Her eyes were focused on her hand, pressed on his forehead; she was concentrating hard on something, and then suddenly, she winced slightly and pulled away.

'What...what was that?' Harry asked, touching his forehead. The scar was cool now, and didn't hurt at all. She shook her head and backed away from him slightly, and without thinking he grabbed her by the arms. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to keep her from running away.

'Ginny...' he said. 'Tell me what's going on.'

She looked up at him, then looked quickly away; he felt her body go slack. She wasn't trying to get away from him.

'Please,' he begged, moving closer to her. 'How are you doing this?'

'I can't tell you anything, Harry,' she said at last, meeting his eyes. 'I'm sorry. It's...it's for your own good, okay?'

'Oh,' said Harry, feeling instantly annoyed. 'Fine.'

'Don't get shirty,' she said irritably. 'It's complicated, okay? I'm not telling you because I don't think you can handle it. I'm not telling you because...I was asked not to. Not yet.'

'Who asked you not to--'

Ginny held up a hand. 'No, Harry.'

'All right,' said Harry, rolling his eyes. 'I'll stop asking. What's that tea you're making?'

'Some of Mum's special stuff,' said Ginny. 'You want some?'

'Didn't Hermione say it makes the drinker really groggy in the morning?' Harry asked.

Ginny snorted. 'Please. She only said that because she didn't want to fall asleep before she had a chance to shag my brother.'

'Thanks for the mental image,' Harry groaned. 'I think I will have some of that stuff after all.'

'You'll want to be fresh for tomorrow,' Ginny said, turning on a burner and placing the kettle over the flame.

'Yeah, that,' said Harry glumly.

'Sorry,' said Ginny at once. 'I shouldn't have brought that up.'

'It's okay,' said Harry. But the thought of Malfoy's trial reminded him of something he hadn't told her. So he did tell her, that his scar hurt, and that he had felt Voldemort's emotion: happiness. That he had tried to use Legilimency to see more, but couldn't find anything discernible.

As they sat down to drink their tea, Harry noticed Ginny bite her lower lip; she looked worried.

'What?' he asked. And then he understood.

'You dreamed about Riddle again, didn't you?'

She nodded.

'Shit,' said Harry, running a hand through his hair. 'That can't still be a coincidence, can it, your dreams coinciding with my scar hurting?'

'I don't think so,' she said, 'but...I can't imagine what it means. I...I don't know if I even want to know what it means.'

She looked afraid and small in that moment, and without really knowing it, he took her hand in his.

'Me, neither,' he said, and he felt her lace his fingers with his. His unease faded slightly; the clutch of her cool fingers in his was pleasant. They stayed that way as they drank their tea, in the silence and the darkness of the kitchen.

It was only when Harry crawled into bed a half hour later that he realized he'd gone an entire day without thinking about Susan.