The Final Reckoning

Chapter Fourteen: Ginny's Secret

A little while later that same night, Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting at the kitchen table of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Draco had gone to bed, his laughter ringing in their ears. Ron sat next to Hermione and Harry sat diagonally across from her. Hermione's head was resting on her arms as she sobbed her eyes out.

'Hermione,' Ron pleaded. 'Come on, it's not that bad.'

'Ron's right,' said Harry at once. 'It was only our first lesson. Not everyone gets it perfect on the first go.'

This was clearly the wrong thing to say; Hermione gave a keening sort of wail and buried her face further in her hands.

Ron and Harry both groaned quietly as Ron quickly tried to soothe his girlfriend by rubbing her back.

'Hermione, please don't do this,' he pleaded. 'It's not that big a deal!'

'How can you say that?' she asked savagely, her voice slightly muffled as she continued to cover her face.

'Because it's not!' Harry insisted. 'Jesus Christ, Hermione, you can't be perfect at everything.'

Hermione wailed again and cried harder.

Ron gave Harry a desperate look; Harry shrugged. He couldn't remember seeing Hermione this upset in a while. And she had come face to face with Voldemort, for Pete's sake.

'I...c-can't believe I s-splinched myself!' she sobbed. 'In front of everyone. In front of MALFOY!'

Ron winced and Harry bit his lip. Okay, that was fair cause for at least a bit of humiliation. But still...

'Hermione, you splinched off the tip of your finger,' said Harry. 'At least you didn't leave behind anything vital.'

'I've b-been studying the th-theory all summer!' Hermione sobbed. 'I should have been able to do it! Everyone else did! Malfoy did!'

'Everyone?' said Harry. 'Hermione, hello. Remember Neville? He left a foot behind.'

'You're talking about Neville, Harry!' Hermione snapped. 'How many cauldrons has he melted? Of course he splinched himself!'

'Hermione,' said Ron, and his voice started to sound just a bit annoyed, 'look, everyone knows you're the smartest witch in Hogwarts, okay? One mistake doesn't change that--'

'I'm never going to live this down,' Hermione interrupted, shaking her head. 'Never. You heard Malfoy! And Seamus was sniggering--'

'Malfoy makes fun of everyone and Seamus is...Seamus,' said Ron.

'You're making way too much out of this,' Harry said, hoping his voice sounded placating, but he, too, was starting to think Hermione was, well, overreacting.

'Easy for you to say!' Hermione bit out. 'It wasn't you that screwed up! Or you!' she added, looking angrily at Ron.

At this, Ron let out an exasperated groan. 'So Harry and me are supposed to feel guilty because we got something right on the first try and you didn't?'

Hermione wailed again, but Ron's jaw only set itself more firmly.

'Hermione, enough is enough,' he said, and Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing, because in that moment Ron sounded very much like his mother.

'You're acting like a child,' he went on. 'You made a mistake. It happens. You're human. It's not the end of the bloody world and nobody thinks worse of you for not being brilliant at every little thing. And before you bring up Malfoy again,' he added, cutting her off as she started to speak, 'don't forget that he's a nasty little ferret who's never, ever liked you, and he's jealous that you always beat him out in lessons, and anything he says doesn't count.'

'But--'

'No buts,' said Ron. 'We have ten more of these bloody lessons and you'll have at least that many chances, if not more, to make everyone else look bad, like you usually do. In the meantime, accept the fact that occasionally, even geniuses screw up. And consider that you're bawling your eyes out over a stupid lesson when there are a lot of things that are a lot more important and worth crying about. Lisa Turpin lost her brother, and so did that Daphne girl, and you didn't see them cracking up over a bloody Apparition lesson.'

Harry stared at Ron. Never in all the years that he'd known his best mate had Harry ever heard him talk like this.

And yet here Ron was, delivering a lecture to his girlfriend as if he were a stern teacher and she a wayward pupil. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or be impressed.

He settled for the latter. Laughing would undoubtedly set Hermione off again.

Hermione, meanwhile, was gaping at her boyfriend with a mixture of petulance and remorse.

'I...I know there are more important things,' she finally mumbled. 'I just...it's important to me...'

Ron's face softened and he took her hands in his. 'I know it is, love. But...give yourself a break, yeah? You're already miles ahead of us in most stuff. Nobody's going to think badly of you.'

'Except Malfoy,' said Hermione, but her lips were curling into a sheepish smile.

'He doesn't count,' said Harry. 'Remember.'

Hermione wiped her eyes and nodded before looking at Harry, then at Ron.

'You're right,' she said finally. 'I'm being silly. I'm...I'm sorry. I was...wrong.'

Ron's eyes lit up mischievously.

'What?' he said, feigning shock. 'Am I going deaf? Did I just hear Hermione Granger admit that she's wrong?'

'Shut up,' Hermione muttered, giving Ron's shoulder a shove.

'No, no, no' said Ron, grinning at Harry, who grinned back, 'Harry and I need to savour this moment, see. It could be years before you're wrong again.'

'Ron!' said Hermione, but now she was blushing and laughing.

'Good point, mate,' said Harry. 'Maybe we should record this moment for posterity.'

'Harry!' She was laughing harder now.

'Yeah, well, even if you aren't perfect I love you anyway,' said Ron, mussing up her hair. She swatted his hand and he pulled her into a hug.

Harry felt his stomach unclench a bit; Hermione was no longer upset. He watched his two best friends for a moment and felt it again: that pang of envy. He hated himself for being jealous, but he couldn't help it. A part of him had not fully expected Ron and Hermione to be such a strong couple. True, they'd had years of friendship behind them before they'd become a couple, and Harry had known before Ron had that the two of them liked each other beyond friendship. But they were so different in so many ways.

Different, and yet...they complement each other perfectly, don't they? They balance each other out. They might bicker and disagree, but...they fit.

Harry smiled when Hermione reached over to hug him, but the pang in his chest still radiated. He loved his two best friends, of that there was no doubt, and yet he knew, more than ever before, that it would never be the same as it had been. Ron and Hermione completed each other in a way that he, Harry, could not possibly compete with. They didn't need him anymore, because they had each other.

'You okay, mate?' Ron said suddenly.

'I'm fine,' Harry lied. 'Just tired. I think I'll turn in.'

He didn't wait to see Ron and Hermione exchange glances; he simply got up and left the kitchen, feeling as though he were stranded on a small boat in the middle of the sea, with no oars to steer him to shore. He felt adrift.

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

The next few weeks passed quickly.

During the day, Mrs. Weasley kept them busy with chores, when they weren't slogging through their mountains of homework. Draco had stopped grumbling about lowering himself to housecleaning duties and he had taken to studying in the same room with them--the parlour. Harry wasn't sure just why Draco would want to be anywhere near them at all, but as the blond boy was quiet and didn't bother them, and as Ron mentioned once how he preferred having Draco close by so he could keep an eye on him, nobody commented on Draco's presence during homework time.

Harry didn't know, nor did he much care, where Draco went off to when the rest of them, on their nights off from Apparition training, played chess or Exploding Snap and Hermione read her numerous books.

Apparition lessons occurred four nights a week and were entirely more taxing than Harry could have imagined. The simple act of Apparating ten feet across a single room left him exhausted. How, then, did people like Kenneth Towler or Nymphadora Tonks manage to Apparate across whole cities and jump right into a battle?

Some Auror I'll make, he thought glumly. Can't even Apparate once without feeling like my knees are going to give out on me.

And yet there was a satisfaction to the lessons all the same. Apparating took the place of Quidditch as Harry's chief form of physical activity, and he found the mental challenges of Apparating to be nearly as therapeutic as flying.

At night, however, as had been the case with him for years now, Harry brooded. About Voldemort. Harry hadn't had a dream about Voldemort, or a vision, or felt pain in his scar since that night he'd awakened to find Draco gone from the bedroom, in pursuit of Ginny.

None of them -- Harry, Ron, Ginny, nor Hermione -- had been able to determine with any certainty whether the loud cracking sound Harry had thought he'd heard was real, or simply part of his dream. Harry had attempted Legilimency a few times but found it to be a futile exercise; Voldemort was, for all intents and purposes, in hiding again. This suggested to Harry that Voldemort had wanted Harry to know that Lucius was not only free, but right back in service with the other Death Eaters. The implications of this left Harry very uneasy; the other times Voldemort had wanted Harry to know something, Harry had rushed into danger and nearly gotten himself and his friends killed. It also meant that Voldemort was strong enough to close himself off from Harry completely. Whatever injury Harry had given him that night at the Riddle House must now be completely healed.

Then there was Ginny. The two of them had not said a word about the Almost Kiss in the kitchen that night. Harry was itching to ask Ginny about it, but when she behaved as if nothing untoward happened, he found he couldn't bring himself to broach the subject. However much he was attracted to her--and he'd given up on debating with himself whether this was solely due to his lonely/horny status or because he was genuinely attracted to her for her or a combination of both -- he wasn't about to do anything to mess up their friendship. He resigned himself to the fact that when he was close to her his body ignored his mind's entreaties not to respond to her, and he made doubly sure not to let himself stare at her beautiful hair, or her very cute freckles, or her scrumptious breasts.

Beyond this, of course, was Ginny's secret power. She hadn't used it on him since that night they'd had tea in the Burrow, and she'd said nothing about it, but that didn't stop Harry from consulting with Ron and the two of them looking into it. Hermione was no help at all, of course. Among the many thousands of things she was good at, keeping a secret was near the top of the list. Harry and Ron had even debated going to Draco to ask, or to beat it out of him, but they abandoned this idea almost at once. Beating Draco up would only get them in trouble, and Draco would never tell them, anyway. If anything, he would laugh and hold it over their heads that he knew something about Ginny that they did not. Harry couldn't stomach this idea, or the image of Draco laughing at him.

Thus, Harry did the only thing he could think of. One afternoon in mid-August, as everyone else -- including Draco -- was working on homework while they sat in the parlour, he copied Hermione's idea and started to make a list of the things he knew about Ginny's power.

1) Works without a wand.

2) Works by Ginny touching someone. On the forehead? Face? Anywhere?

Harry quickly scratched out the word 'Anywhere' from the list.

You do not need to think about her touching you...someone...using her power for...

Knock it off, Potter. Do you really want to deal with an erection right now?

Snape in a nightie.

Harry shifted in his seat slightly as the discomfort faded and he looked up to see Draco sitting in the corner, his head bent over a piece of parchment. Draco hadn't said a word to anyone all day; when he'd entered the parlour to begin studying, no one had protested, in part because nobody wanted to risk waking up Mrs. Black's portrait. Draco had seated himself quietly -- and haughtily -- in the far corner on an old salon chair that didn't look remotely comfortable.

Harry turned back to his list about Ginny.

3) Seems to 'absorb' bad feelings from person.

4) Makes physical pain go away (at least in scar)

5) Ginny experiences pain (?) or distress when she uses power.

Harry looked at the short list and considered. Perhaps she had some gift for Healing? It made perfect sense. Except that thus far, Ginny seemed to imply that her powers had more to do with emotions than physical pain. And yet, hadn't she taken away the burning in his scar those few times she'd touched him there?

Harry found himself digging through his schoolbooks for references to Healers, but none of his most-used texts had much to say about them. The Potions textbook and 1,001 Magical Herbs and Fungi mentioned Healers only in the context of using potions and herbs to cure and treat illness, injury and disease. Harry pushed aside book after book until he came to the bottom of his stack and found A History of Magic.

He smiled to himself. The book still looked relatively new; well, he was about as lazy as Ron when it came to actually reading the book, and in any case Hermione's notes in the class were always so thorough that Harry had never felt any particular urgency about reading Professor Binns' assigned chapters.

Harry opened the book wide, cracking the spine as he did so; the sound was so loud Ron looked up.

'You're actually going to read that?' said Hermione, bemused.

'Yeah, why not?' said Harry loftily. 'We have N.E.W.T.s this year, Hermione. As you're always telling us.'

Hermione rolled her eyes and Ron snorted, but didn't lift his eyes from the Charms homework he was working on.

Harry flipped to the index and looked under 'Healers'; he turned to the appropriate pages and read through them carefully, but it was nothing more than a history of some famous Healers, along with a timeline of the discovery and maturation of the Healing Arts. Harry's eyes locked on a paragraph that discussed Healing without wands, but the book only told Harry that Healers with such ability were very rare, and that their ability to take away physical pain--physical, not emotional--was limited to non-life threatening injuries, surface wounds, and certain types of chronic pain.

Harry was just about to slam the book shut in frustration when he saw a footnote at the bottom of the page:

'For further information, see Chapter Twenty-One, pp. 325-328: "The Role of Empaths in Healing".'

Harry felt his blood begin to pound in his ears.

Empaths. He'd heard of them. Or at least, he was pretty sure he'd heard of them. He flipped quickly to the right pages and began to read.

'The Empath is a very particular type of Healer. Almost all known Empaths throughout history have been women.

'Empaths are rare. An Empath's power comes from her ability to accurately determine another person's emotions. An Empath can effectively see past the day-to-day façades that people put on; an Empath is especially good at sensing dishonesty.

'An Empath is incapable of being totally dispassionate; her very nature demands that she feel emotions--her own and those of others--very deeply. An Empath cannot compartmentalize her mind; she cannot separate feeling from thought. Empathic power varies greatly and is entirely innate, not made. All Empaths can perceive and feel emotion in others but a small number of very powerful Empaths also have Telepathy as well: they can perceive specific memories of others in addition to emotions.'

Harry blinked and looked up at Ginny, who was in the midst of writing a Potions essay. She reached up to tuck a strand of copper hair behind her ear and seemed to feel his eyes on her; she looked up at him and smiled, and he smiled back.

Ginny's an Empath.

Or at least, she certainly seemed like one, if the description of an Empath in this particular textbook was accurate. Harry had long known of Ginny's ability to see past the front he himself often put up; she had once jokingly said she had a very good 'bullshit detector.'

That's certainly true. You can't put anything past her.

Ironic, considering how easily she can lie when she wants to.

But what about her power? How is she using her power? Is that an Empath thing?

Harry turned his eyes back to the book.

'An Empath will often use her gifts in the Healing Arts, and indeed, the vast majority of Empaths have had careers in the Healing Arts. Whereas a Healer can only treat physical pain, an Empath treats emotional pain. The connection between mind and body in Healing cannot be disputed; a patient who feels stronger and happier emotionally heals faster in body than the patient who suffers from emotional despair or loneliness. The Empath's role in Healing, therefore, is vital, because it helps a person to continue to heal and strengthen themselves long after the immediate danger and pain of the physical injury has been corrected. The Healer and the Empath, then, work side by side to ensure that patients receive the maximum benefits from the Healing Arts.

'How, then, does an Empath use her power? Like Wandless Healers, the power comes from both touch and mental focus. The Empath lays a hand against the bare flesh of the patient, to establish a physical connection. She then uses her Empathic Powers to connect with the emotions she is sensing and feeling from that patient, and once that connection is made, she draws those feelings from the patient into herself, taking away whatever negative feelings the patient was previously experiencing, and taking them on herself. She then replaces those negative feelings with positive feelings. Such positive feelings can be very general, as would be the case with most Empaths, or they can be associated with specific positive memories of the patient. An Empath with Telepathy can search the patient's mind for various memories; she absorbs the memories and takes the negatives ones on herself while replacing the happy memories back into the mind of the patient.

'Empaths generally spend years training and honing their powers, although Empathic gifts are typically detectable around the onset of puberty.

'The gift of Empathy comes with many costs. The first is the mental toll of Empathic powers. Empaths must be trained to manage the overwhelming level of emotion they feel -- their own and others' -- on a daily basis. Without such training, the Empath risks becoming trapped in emotion; she 'wallows' in emotion so deeply that she runs the risk going mad.'

Harry swallowed and glanced at Ginny.

My god...

He blinked and kept reading.

'A second risk is the use of Empathic power. The use of Empathic power also creates mental strain and in some cases, physical pain. The absorbing of negative emotions and memories from others takes a daily toll on the mind and body of the Empath. What is ironic is that, in spite of this, nearly all Empaths are innately driven to use their powers as much as possible. Such an inherent drive to use their powers is dangerous; an untrained Empath can overuse her powers and risk mental or physical breakdown. Trained Empaths learn to use their powers carefully and judiciously and resist the urge to overdo, but no Empath can totally escape the pull of using her powers for the benefit of others.

'The greatest risk to Empaths, however, comes from the abuse of their powers by practitioners of the Dark Arts. It is a well-established fact that an Empath can use her powers 'in reverse': that is, she can use her powers to cause mental and emotional anguish instead of relief, by absorbing all the feelings of a victim but keeping the positive feelings for herself and sending back only the negative ones. Empaths have been used by the Dark forces to torture other enemies and even drive some to suicide. Such behaviour goes against the innately benevolent nature of Empaths, however, so it must be assumed that in such cases as these, the Empaths were forced to use their powers in this way against their will. Empaths are especially vulnerable to the Imperius Curse. An Empath easily succumbs to the seductive powers of the Imperius Curse because it is one way to be relieved of her tremendous responsibility in managing all the emotions she feels. The Imperius Curse removes the burden of the Empath to constantly monitor her mind and her feelings. Under the Imperius Curse, all people report a feeling of bliss and ease; in the Empath, this effect is magnified a hundredfold. There have been no recorded cases of an Empath resisting the Imperius Curse.'

Harry's heart was pounding so loud now that he looked up to see if anyone else could hear it, but Ron, Hermione and Ginny were all focused entirely on their studies. Harry glanced at Draco; the blond boy's grey eyes were fixed on Ginny. Then he felt the weight of Harry's glare and he quickly looked away.

Harry swallowed hard. He knew he had found what it was that Ginny was trying to keep secret, and now he understood why Dumbledore had wanted it kept quiet. Harry had understood that Ginny was in danger from Voldemort all along -- first, he'd come back as Tom Riddle to possess her. But then in the Riddle House, when he'd threatened her.

Harry shuddered as he remembered Voldemort taunting Ginny, all the while wearing the form of his former sixteen-year-old self. He'd wanted her then for his...amusement. His sick, twisted, perverse amusement.

Harry glanced over at Ginny and felt his stomach twist. All summer he'd noticed how beautiful she'd become. Voldemort had noticed it, too. But if he knew she was an Empath...

Harry rubbed his eyes and looked over at Ron, whose face was screwed up in concentration as he wrote down an answer to his Charms assignment.

Should I tell Ron about this?

Yes, but not now. Wait until we're far away from Mrs. Black's portrait.

Harry blinked again and noticed Draco; the blond boy was no longer focused on his homework. He was gazing at Ginny.

Harry felt his fists clench and bit back the urge to get in Malfoy's ferret face. It wouldn't do to start anything now.

But then Harry noticed the nature of Malfoy's gaze. It was full of longing, of desperation, of sadness.

And Harry felt another clunking in his brain.

He's in love with her.

The answer to the question of why Draco had never told his father or Voldemort or anyone else about Ginny's power was right there, written on his pointed, pale face.

Oh, come on, this is Malfoy we're talking about here. He hates Weasleys, and if that git has any notion of what being in love feels like I'll sell my Firebolt.

And yet there was no mistaking the look of miserable longing on Draco's face. Harry knew it well; it was the same look he'd worn every time he saw Susan that last week of school, after she'd dumped him.

Harry wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that Draco was in love with Ginny, or the fact that Harry identified with the other boy for being in love with a girl who didn't want him.

Still...this was Malfoy. And last year his mother was still alive, his father hadn't sold him out to Voldemort yet, and he was still the default king of Slytherin House, and he was actively helping his father and Voldemort in going after Luna and The Book of Morgan Le Fey. Draco's world hadn't yet fallen apart; there was no reason to believe he understood what it meant to feel real love, or sympathy, or kindness, and nothing had yet happened to Draco to inspire sympathy for him. What possible reason would 'pre-tragic Draco' have to keep Ginny's power a secret?

Because Harry didn't believe for a second that Draco would have kept her power a secret simply because he had the hots for her. If anything, he'd have been as likely to spill it to his dad when Ginny rejected him.

Think about it. Draco is who he is. Maybe he really loves Ginny. But he's always been an opportunist, and he's spent his whole life thinking that whatever he wants, he gets. If Ginny rejected him, he'd have been furious and done something to her. But...what if he knew about her power? What if he made a move and she rejected him, and he threatened to tell her secret to his dad? What if Draco made her...do something for him to keep quiet in return?

Harry shuddered as this horrible thought filled his mind. He looked at Ginny and felt even sicker to his stomach.

How can you possibly think Ginny would ever...Look at her. She's beautiful and innocent...Dean dumped her because she wouldn't sleep with him, and she loved that guy. How can you even think that she'd willingly go near Malfoy?

Because it's possible. Because Draco is exactly the sort to resort to blackmail.

But Ginny?

Harry sat back in his chair and rubbed his eyes for a moment, grateful that nobody noticed his growing agitation. He thought about all he knew of Ginny, about the sort of person she was.

He knew she was his friend. He knew she was brave, and capable, and fiercely loyal to him, to her family, to the cause of good. And she hadn't said a word about her power, because Dumbledore had asked her not to. How long had she known she was Empathic?

'...although Empathic gifts are typically detectable around the onset of puberty.'

Puberty. It varied from person to person, but if Ginny was like most girls, that meant she would have been aware of her powers most likely between the ages of twelve and fourteen. Harry tried to recall when she had first started changing, from a little girl to a young woman, and realized he couldn't remember, because he hadn't been paying attention to her. Of course he hadn't. He'd only noticed she was a Girl this summer, hadn't he?

So Ginny -- and possibly Dumbledore -- had known about her powers for a while. And yet, if Ginny were an Empath, wouldn't Dumbledore have insisted on her being trained to deal with her gifts? Otherwise, how could she possibly manage the mental strain of it all?

She survived being possessed by Tom Riddle for a year.

True, but that ended. He's not possessing her anymore. He's there, in her mind and in her dreams sometimes, but he's no longer controlling her.

But her Empathy -- that's a full time deal, no escaping that. She had to have been trained at some point, by someone. And she's probably still getting trained. The training takes years.

Dumbledore? It seemed bizarre to consider the Dumbledore would know how to train an Empath. Nothing of Dumbledore's history made mention of him being an Empath, and anyway, male Empaths were nearly non-existent. But somebody had been giving Ginny instruction.

Harry ran a hand through his hair and bit back a groan as the mystery surrounding Ginny -- a girl he thought he'd known reasonably well -- only deepened.

Harry glanced at her again; she was now working on a Herbology assignment and had tied her hair in a careless knot. Then he looked over at Draco, who was gazing at her again. Draco's eyes darted to Harry and he immediately bent over his parchment again as Harry felt his stomach twist once more.

The fact was that Ginny was an accomplished liar. How many times had she deceived people in the past? It was nearly always for a good cause, of course, but if she could keep secrets and tell falsehoods without anyone realizing it, why shouldn't she keep secret the fact that Draco might have been blackmailing her?

If she had agreed to...do something for Draco in exchange for his silence...

No.

Draco would never keep his mouth shut out of the goodness of his heart, or because he's in love with her. He doesn't work that way.

Maybe she was lying about Draco knowing. Maybe he really is only in love with her and has no clue about--

Then why was he doing what he did that night in the kitchen? If he'd wanted to rape her he would have used Imperius or a Total Body Bind, he had her wand. If he'd been trying to rape her, her clothes would have been torn or messed up. But he'd only grabbed her and he was holding her hand...to his face.

Draco knows, and he must have been blackmailing Ginny in some way. Maybe she...god...what if she...

How far would she go to protect her secret? To protect herself? Not that far. To protect someone else?

Me.

Dumbledore knows she's my friend; maybe he told her to keep her power a secret to not just to protect her but to protect me. Voldemort could use her against me. That's why she said she wouldn't tell me, 'for my own good.'

Harry kept his eyes fixed on his parchment as his heart continued to hammer in his head. He could feel, rather than see, Draco's eyes on Ginny. Harry was suddenly more desperate than ever for a fly on his Firebolt, if only to rid himself of the frightening and disturbing thoughts swirling in his head. He didn't even want to begin to imagine what Ginny might have done to buy Draco's silence.

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

It was a week before they were to return to Hogwarts when everyone seemed to notice, at the same time, that Hogwarts' letters hadn't been received yet. Hermione immediately went into a panic.

'If I'm Head Girl -- not that I expect it but just on the off-chance -- how am I supposed to be prepared with less than a week to go?' she'd wailed. 'And what about class schedules? I need more than a week to choose my N.E.W.T. classes -- those classes will decide my future!'

She'd gotten so uptight about it that Ron had kissed her to shut her up. Harry wasn't thrilled to witness that, but he had to admit it was an effective way to distract Hermione from yet another one of her panicked rants.

Draco, for his part, had continued to be mostly silent. The most venom he came up with were dirty looks at Harry and the others. All but Ginny, of course. For her, his looks were a mixture of resentment and longing. It was a measure of the effect of that night in the kitchen, however, that Draco never made any attempt to even speak to her.

Harry had continued to wonder about Ginny and how she'd dealt with Draco last year. None of the possibilities that came into his mind were remotely pleasant, but very quickly Harry came to the conclusion that dwelling on the subject as neither helpful to him, nor really any of his business. Ginny was his friend, but she was not his girlfriend, and if she was willing to go so far to keep her secret and protect him, Harry didn't think he could fairly question her methods. Not with things as they were now. Not with a war going on. Not with what had happened last term, with the attack on Hogwarts, and the battle at the Riddle House. Harry realized, with some sadness, that nobody had the luxury to be innocent anymore.

Harry had taken Ron aside one day and told him about what he'd learned of Ginny, but he'd left out his suspicions regarding Draco. Ron, nonetheless, came to the same conclusions, and for a good hour Harry had to talk Ron out of killing Draco with his bare hands. For the very first time in all the years they'd known each other, Harry was genuinely afraid that Ron might actually do it this time. It took no small amount of persuasion on Harry's part, including a couple of Silencing Charms, to get Ron to agree to keep his mouth shut about everything. The last thing Ginny needed was to get more upset, Harry said, considering all the stuff she was dealing with. Ron agreed readily with that, but still wanted to kill Draco. Harry got him to back off that threat only by agreeing that they would talk to Ginny -- quietly, reasonably, and gently (which meant Harry would do all the talking) sometime in the next week, after Apparition training was finally over for good. In the meantime, Ron watched Draco like a hawk.

Things had been so busy that Harry sometimes forgot he was staying in the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. It was only when Order members came by that he was reminded.

There were meetings, of course, but Harry and the others were prevented from participating, much to their displeasure, and Mrs. Weasley had so effectively charmed the kitchen doors against any manner of eavesdropping that they had quickly given up on trying to listen in.

One morning as they'd gone down to breakfast, Professor Snape passed by them. He gave them only the most cursory of nods, but for Draco, upon whom Snape graced with a look of almost fatherly concern.

A couple of times, Harry had also seen Professor McGonagall in the foyer, always wearing Muggle clothes, as she was leaving the house for some reason or other. She looked pale and a bit haggard and moved very stiffly, as though she was sore, and Harry wondered if she was still feeling the effects of her injuries from the battle at school.

Lupin took them to Apparition training but rarely had time to talk these days; Harry assumed he was doing something or other for the Order but he couldn't imagine what it was. Recruit more werewolves?

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Percy, Bill and the twins were also rarely seen these days. Percy was staying with his girlfriend Penelope at night and spending--according to Mrs. Weasley--inordinate amounts of time at work. Doing what, Harry couldn't imagine. Percy's injury meant that he could hardly be doing anything particularly, physically strenuous. Bill, too, was working very hard and travelling a bit more this summer -- Harry assumed he must be continuing his work on recruiting goblins. The only news of Charlie was that he'd relocated to Bulgaria to work with a new species of dragon. When Harry learned of this -- also from Mrs. Weasley -- something about it bothered him, but he quickly forgot about it in the hectic days leading up to the return to school.

The twins came by several times, full of jocular self-importance as they paraded down the stairs to meetings. Ron and Ginny rolled their eyes and pretended not to care. Harry knew better. Mr. Weasley was spending, it seemed, every waking moment at work, much to Mrs. Weasley's annoyance, but then Mrs. Weasley was so busy doing who knew what that she was constantly in and out of the house.

The Hogwarts letters arrived on the morning of the last night of Apparition training. The four of them were in the kitchen; Ron was cooking breakfast when Mrs. Weasley came in.

'Hogwarts letters!' she announced happily. 'Draco's got his already, he's upstairs. Ginny, your O.W.L. results are back!'

'Great,' Ginny muttered.

Mrs. Weasley handed out everyone's letters. Hermione took hers, and Harry noticed that her face had gone white, and that she wouldn't open the letter.

'Are you going to open it or just look at it?' he asked. 'You're not afraid you won't get the badge, are you?'

'I'm sure Dumbledore has chosen whoever he thinks is best for Head Boy and Head Girl,' said Hermione primly, but her face was white with fear and she clutched Ron's hand.

'Will you...open it?'

'Sure thing, love,' said Ron, removing a skillet full of eggs and bacon from the burner. He wiped his hands on a dishtowel before taking her letter and started to tear open the envelope. Hermione immediately crossed to the other side of the room. She was so nervous, apparently, that she didn't even want to look at the contents inside the envelope.

Ron pulled three pieces of parchment from the envelope and set the envelope down on the table; it landed with a thud, which meant there was a badge inside. A prefect's badge, or the Head Girl badge?

'This here's your book list,' said Ron, reading the first piece of parchment. 'Good lord, Hermione, how many subjects do you need?'

'I'm still not sure what I want to do,' she said, her voice tight with agitation.

'This one's got your school marks,' said Ron. 'O's in everything. What a shocker, that.'

Hermione gave a wave of her hand, and Harry chuckled under his breath. She was so worried about the Head Girl thing that she didn't seem to care that she'd achieved perfect marks in all her subjects.

'Okay, here's your school letter from Dumbledore,' said Ron, unfolding the third piece of parchment.

'Read it,' said Hermione at once. 'No, wait, don't read it. I'll read it.'

She started toward Ron, but then stopped. 'No, no, I can't. You read it.'

'Okay,' said Ron slowly, and he started to read.

'Dear Miss Granger--'

'Wait!' said Hermione. 'Let me.'

Ron sighed and held up her letter and she started to take it from him, then she shrank back.

'I can't, you do it,' she said again, looking desperately at Ron.

'Are you sure you want me to read this?' he said.

'Y-yes,' said Hermione.

'Okay,' said Ron. 'Now don't interrupt.'

'Right,' said Hermione; she was now clutching the back of a chair so tightly her knuckles were white.

Ron began to read again.

'Dear Miss Granger, the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry wishes to congratulate you on entering your seventh and final year--'

'Skip that,' said Hermione at once.

'Okay,' said Ron, rolling his eyes affectionately at her. Harry smirked. Ron's eyes skipped to the next paragraph.

'The final year of your Hogwarts career will be marked with many challenges and you will be called upon to face those challenges--'

'Skip that, too,' said Hermione, wringing her hands.

'Hermione, do you want to read this?' said Ron.

'No!' said Hermione.

'Then would you let me read?' said Ron. 'I told you, stop interrupting.'

'But I don't want to hear about how challenging seventh year is, I know that,' said Hermione irritably. 'Just skip to the end.'

'Fine,' said Ron, shaking his head. He moved his eyes to the bottom of the letter. 'My warmest regards, Albus Dumbledore.'

Harry bit his lip to keep from laughing.

'What?' said Hermione. 'That's...that's it?'

'You said skip to the end,' said Ron cheekily.

'Oh!' said Hermione, throwing up her hands. 'Just...give me that!' She snatched the letter from him, and Ron and Harry exchanged amused glances.

Hermione's face went even whiter as her eyes moved rapidly over the words in the letter.

'Well?' said Ron.

Hermione looked up and her face broke into a smile. She threw down the letter and grabbed the envelope and pulled out a badge: a very shiny Head Girl badge. She then gave a scream and launched herself at Ron, and he caught her in an embrace.

'I GOT IT!' she yelled, and Ron laughed and picked her up and twirled her around.

'I told you you'd get it!' he yelled.

'Oh...oh...Hermione!' said Mrs. Weasley, quite beside herself. 'Head Girl?'

'Yes!' she gasped, as Ron set her down. 'I can't believe it! I can't believe I got it!'

'Oh, come on, Hermione,' said Harry, grinning. 'Who else was it going to be? Pansy Parkinson?'

'Bite your tongue,' said Hermione, looking momentarily scandalized before she grinned again.

'Congratulations, Hermione,' said Mrs. Weasley happily. 'That's wonderful! Your parents will be so pleased! Ginny, you next.'

Ginny groaned and opened her letter. She didn't bother looking at the booklist, but read over her O.W.L. results and smiled and shrugged.

'Not as bad as I thought,' she said, and she handed the letter to her mother.

'Eight O.W.L.s!' said Mrs. Weasley after a moment. 'And no less than an E to be found. Ginny, I'm very impressed.'

'Ron, Harry, your turns,' said Hermione, her face glowing.

'Oh,' said Ron, and his face fell a bit. 'Do we have to?'

'Ron,' said Mrs. Weasley, 'I want to see those marks of yours. But take your time; I'll put the food on some plates.' And she hustled over to the stove and began dishing out bacon and eggs.

'Right,' said Ron glumly, and he and Harry began to open their envelopes. There wasn't a badge in Harry's, but he didn't really care. The idea of being made a prefect had long ago lost its appeal. And the book list was hardly cause for rejoicing, because it only reminded him of how intense his lessons would be this year. But he was pleased to see that he got strong marks in all his subjects; he'd scraped an E in Potions, Transfiguration, Care of Magical Creatures and Charms, an A in Herbology and History, and an O in Defence Against the Dark Arts.

'How'd you do?' Harry asked Ron.

Before Ron could answer Mrs. Weasley snatched the piece of parchment with his marks on it out of his hand.

'Oh, Ron, these are wonderful!' she said. 'I'm so proud of you.' Harry handed over his. She handed Ron's parchment to Harry and took Harry's and praised him for his marks; Harry saw that, as usual, Ron had gotten roughly similar marks, except that Ron scored an O in Charms instead of Defence.

'Good show, Ron,' Harry started to say, but Ron didn't hear him. He was staring, whey-faced, at something that had fallen out of his envelope.

It was a badge. The Head Boy badge.