For Your Love

Chapter 5: Discoveries

The next day was filled with rain. Dampness hung in the air and left a sticky feeling on the inhabitants of the Burrow. Harry, Ron and Hermione had maintained an uneasy silence after dinner, but this morning, after breakfast, the three of them disappeared into Ron's room for what Ginny presumed to be a heartfelt chat. She discreetly kept herself out of it, knowing that this was their time to sort out the fact that their beloved "Trio" had abruptly changed into "The Duo and That Other Guy". She settled herself at her desk with Ron's old copy of Transfiguration Disasters and How to Avoid Them that Professor McGonagall had assigned for summer reading.

She turned page after page distractedly, wondering what was going on upstairs. The rain peppered her window with streams that joined into rivers and pooled on her windowsill. Her eyes fell on the photo propped on her bookshelf, the one Colin had sent for her birthday. She watched his blonde head bobbing in and out of the frame, his silly face making her smile. He had said he was thinking of her. She wondered if he was thinking of her right now. And if he was, did she want him to? Ron and Hermione had been friends for years, and now it seemed that they had finally crossed over into new territory. She abandoned her reading and picked up the picture, chasing the what-ifs through her mind.

* * *

"Look at this," Ron exclaimed. "The Arrows are trading Chadwick to the Kestrals. I told you they would never keep him, he hasn't made a goal in their last three matches." He tossed his copy of Quidditch Monthly to where Harry sat on the floor, leaning against the wall.

They were not, in fact, having a heartfelt chat. Rather, the three of them were doing everything they could to avoid the pink elephant in the room. Hermione lay on her stomach on the bed, listening to the Wizarding Wireless Network while flipping through a book entitled The Ministry of Magic: A History that she had retrieved from the living room bookshelf, studiously avoiding eye contact with either boy. Ron sat in a chair, leaning it back on two legs with one foot propped lazily on the edge of his desk.

Harry scanned the magazine half-heartedly, agreeing with Ron over the fate of the Arrows' Chaser until they eventually had nothing more to say on the subject and let the soft rock music of the WWN fill the silence. Finally, Harry stood up.

"Well, I suppose you two want to be alone. I'll just..." He found he was unable to come up with a suitable excuse for his departure and, realizing that it was not necessary anyway, headed for the door.

Ron and Hermione exchanged an anxious glance. Hermione shut her book and said, "You don't have to go."

"It's alright," Harry smiled with a small shake of his head. "I'll see you later." He opened the door and stepped out, not wanting to belabor the awkward moment. But he had only gone a few steps when Hermione rushed out and closed the door behind her.

"Harry..."

He paused and turned to face her. She looked so anxious, clutching the handrail and imploring him with her eyes to talk to her. It struck Harry that he rarely saw her this unnerved about anything. She was the one who had all the answers, who knew of a spell or potion or charm to get them out of any sticky situation that might arise. She was his rock. And she was crumbling right in front of him.

"We didn't plan this," she said.

He leaned his head against the wall and one side of his mouth curled into a half-smile. "Hermione, give me some credit. You don't do anything without a plan."

She chewed her lip nervously. "Well, I suppose it has been on the horizon for a while," she admitted.

Harry climbed the two steps between them so that they were at eye level. "You know what you're doing, right? Because Ron, he doesn't always think straight when it comes to you."

She searched his eyes, knowing that if anyone could understand the tumult of feelings rolling around inside her, it was him. "Do you think we're making a mistake?"

"No," he said, not taking his eyes from hers. "Do you?"

She sighed. "I just need some time to get used to the idea of us, together. It's feels strange; I don't know what I'm doing."

"And you hate that, don't you," he said knowingly. She acknowledged him with a slight frown. "Ron's a stand up guy. He'll treat you right if you let him. But you have to let him."

"Yes, I know." She took a deep breath and mustered a smile.

"Alright?" Harry asked. Hermione nodded. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her into a hug. "I love you both," he whispered.

She hugged him tighter. "We know. We love you, too."

* * *

Harry wandered downstairs, unsure what to do with himself. He picked up a discarded pack of Exploding Snap cards and sat on the floor of the living room, his back leaned against the sofa. But he soon remembered that Solitaire Exploding Snap was a bit anticlimactic as he waited for the inevitable poof of smoke and then drew his fingers back sharply, shaking the sting out of them.

He moved on to the kitchen, intending to find a snack -- more to satisfy his boredom than his stomach. He pulled a pear out of the basket that Mrs. Weasley had picked the day before. Looking out the window, he saw her working in the garden, an Impervius Charm shielding her from the light drizzle that was still falling. It was quite a life, he thought, raising seven children and managing a wizarding household, separating themselves from pureblood society even though they had as much right to it as any Malfoy.

Mrs. Weasley always seemed to be busy, but with what he wasn't sure. Maybe it came from having so many children underfoot for so long. Harry looked around the room and tried to imagine nine noisy red heads seated around the table, from a young Bill sitting to his father's right, discussing the latest Quidditch scores, to a baby Ginny banging on her high chair tray. And presiding over it all, Molly Weasley. He wondered vaguely what she did to occupy her time when they were all away at Hogwarts.

He chewed his pear and walked slowly into the living room again. The pictures on the wall caught his eye. He had never really looked at them before, but they were a mishmash of children's drawings on yellowed and curling paper that had collected on the walls over the years. There were crayon dragons, watercolor unicorns, and inky trolls, each with the artist's name scrawled at the bottom in childish script.

He was still staring at them when the stairs creaked, and he turned to see Ginny stepping lightly down them, looking up suddenly when she realized Harry was standing there.

"Hi, what are you doing? I thought you were upstairs," she said offhandedly, pouring herself a glass of juice from the icebox.

"Just looking at these old drawings. I never really looked at them before. Fred and George really had a thing for fire, didn't they?" he smiled.

Ginny came to stand beside him, sipping her juice. "I don't know why mum hasn't taken those old things down. Look, they're hardly even moving anymore. But I suppose it's a lost cause; she can't throw anything away. This house is full of things like that."

An idea sparked in Harry's head. "Show me," he said, turning to her with a gleam in his eye.

"Show you what?"

"Show me things about the Burrow that only a Weasley would know." He was excited by the prospect of exploring the house. It was big and cluttered and full of stories. He wanted to feel a part of something, something he could wrap his hands around and focus his mind on. At the very least, it would pass the time.

Ginny chuckled at his eagerness. "Okay," she smiled. She set down her juice and looked around. "Let's see... Ah, here's a good place to start."

She walked to the large hutch in the kitchen and crouched on the floor, pointing to a red brick beside it in the wall of the massive chimney that rose up through the center of the house.

"Take that brick out," she said, and Harry stooped beside her, working the dusty block with his fingers until it came loose. Behind the brick was a small hole, but it seemed empty.

"What is it?" he asked.

"That's where mum used to hide our Christmas presents. She thought that since the kitchen was such a busy place, no one would snoop in here. But we've known about it for ages."

Harry looked incredulous. "But it's so small, how did she hide anything in there?"

"She shrunk them," Ginny said matter-of-factly.

"So did you all get in here every year to see what you were getting?"

"Well, I think we all did it at least once, except for Percy. But it got boring after a while. It ruined the surprise. The only ones of us who did it consistently were..."

"Fred and George," he finished for her. She laughed and nodded.

"Would you have done? Looked at your presents?" Ginny asked.

Harry gave a wry laugh. "I suppose just knowing that I had presents waiting for me would have been enough," he said dryly. "The Dursleys weren't big on giving gifts to anyone but Dudley."

Ginny pressed her lips together and frowned. She hated the Dursleys all over again. How could anyone look at this sweet, kind, loving boy and not even want to give him a sodding Christmas present?

That's it, she thought determinedly. If he wants to recreate his childhood by looking into every nook and cranny and cupboard of this place, then that's what we're going to do.

They spent the next few hours creeping and crawling through the Burrow from bottom to top. They began in the root cellar where Charlie had once hidden a family of puffskeins until they had escaped and eaten through an entire month's worth of potatoes.

The living room held a trove of photo albums and scrapbooks, which Ginny went through page by page, explaining the who, what, and where of each smiling face. Harry sat close to her, leaning over the pictures, asking questions occasionally. Ginny watched him studying the photos of the Weasleys as young children, trying to see them as through his eyes for the first time. He stopped at a picture of Ginny and Ron when they had been about two and three years old. Ron held Ginny about the waist and was bouncing her up and down as Ginny laughed, her short hair circling her round face.

Harry turned to look at Ginny, studying her face, then back to the little girl in the photo, then back to Ginny again. She felt her pulse quicken as his eyes rested on her hair, her nose, her chin, her mouth.

"See any resemblance?" she managed to squeak out in what she hoped was a normal sounding voice.

"A little," he said, "the smile is the same. And your eyes." A smile crept over her face. "There it is," he smiled back.

Next they worked their way upstairs, through stories of small children hiding beneath Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's bed and Percy's failed attempts at making his bedroom door Imperturbable, to the disastrous experiments and strange noises that had issued from Fred and George's room on a daily basis. But when they reached Ginny's room, she continued up the stairs without pausing.

"What about yours?" Harry asked as they passed her door. He poked his head inside before she reached around him and pulled it shut.

"Not all secrets need to be shared today I think," she said cryptically.

"You're hiding something," he grinned.

"Not hiding," she smirked, meeting his eyes, "just not showing."

Ginny felt a rush as she raised her eyebrows at Harry, daring him to challenge her. They had been in such close proximity all morning, sitting together and brushing against each other, him hanging on her every word. She was at the center of his attention for perhaps the first time in her life, and a familiar but long forgotten ache began to rise in her chest.

Don't do it, Ginny, she warned herself. He doesn't feel that way about you, and you know it. She squashed the feeling down and squared her shoulders.

"Off you go then," she said, grasping his arms and turning him around, pushing him up the stairs.

After hearing about the myriad of magical pets Charlie had kept in his room over the years and exploring a hidden compartment in Bill's closet where he had once hidden, of all things, a girl, they found themselves at the top floor of the house in front of the attic door, which was directly across from Ron's room.

"Ready?" Ginny asked, her hand on the doorknob.

"For what?"

"To meet the ghoul," she said ominously.

Harry started. "Is that wise?" he asked with an apprehensive look. "Ron says the ghoul won't let anyone up there."

"He won't let any of the boys up there. Just me and mum."

"Well, I guess that leaves me out then, doesn't it?" Harry asked, feeling that he was stating the obvious.

"Oh no," she said with a wave of her hand. "He's only sworn to haunt any Weasley man who lives at the Burrow, but you should be alright. I think. Oh, c'mon, I'll protect you," she said in a patronizing tone.

Harry looked at her, his eyes narrowing slightly, before reaching around her and yanking the door open himself. "Let's go, Weasley."

She ascended the dark stairway and Harry followed, closing the door behind him. When he reached the top, however, his confidence waned as he came face to face with the ugliest ghost he had ever seen. The ghoul hovered a few inches above the floor, heavy chains falling from his wrists, clanking against the floor as he moved. His opaque skin hung limply, his cheeks sunken and his eyes hollow. Long, slimy hair hung from his head, partially obscuring his face, and his chin was wet with drool leaking from his buck-toothed mouth. The air smelled faintly of dust and moldy cheese.

"Hello, Gerald," Ginny said brightly.

"Gerald?" Harry mouthed to himself.

"Hello, Ginevra," the ghoul moaned.

"Gerald, this is Harry," she said, gesturing beside her. Turning, she saw that he had sunken back into the shadows. She grabbed his arm and pulled him up next to her.

Harry cleared his throat. "H-Hello, Gerald."

The ghoul swept up close to Harry, looking intently into his eyes and finally resting his gaze on the top of Harry's head. Harry could smell its putrid breath but resisted the urge to back away.

"His hair is darker than the others," he droned.

"Yes," said Ginny soothingly, "he's not a Weasley, Gerald. He's a friend of mine. He's come to live at the Burrow for a while."

Gerald frowned, causing more drool to escape the corners of his mouth. "Well then..." he said thickly, looking Harry over once more. He drifted away, not finishing his thought, clanking his way into a dark corner.

Harry let out his breath and relaxed his shoulders. Ginny smiled triumphantly. "See?" she said.

Harry acknowledged her by wrinkling his nose at the lingering smell. "So, what's up here?" he asked, wandering amidst dust-covered trunks, odd-shaped boxes, and bits of forgotten furniture.

"A load of rubbish mostly," she said, pushing aside a stack of boxes with her foot. "Except for this." She stopped in front of a large trunk with the initials MP stamped in faded golden letters on the front. "It's mum's." She creaked open the lid and knelt in front of it.

"MP?" he asked.

"Molly Prewett. It was her maiden name."

On the top, folded neatly, was a white dress, cut plainly with a little bit of ribbon threaded through the bodice. A wedding robe. Ginny lifted it gingerly out of the trunk and held it on her lap, the full skirt flowing down around her. Beneath the dress, the trunk held an assortment of treasures, including, among other things, a stack of letters, a green glass jar holding dried flower petals, faded pictures, an ornate box inlaid with ivory and jade, and three baby books with chubby, smiling baby faces peeking out from the covers. Harry pointed to the top one that had "Bilius Arthur Weasley" embossed on the front and a picture of an infant Bill chewing on a soft toy.

"Is there one for you?" he asked.

"No," Ginny pouted. "Mum gave up doing them after Percy." She fingered the wedding dress in her lap. "Everything in here has a story," she said with a wistful smile. "Oh, but you don't want to hear all that," she apologized, folding the dress again and placing in back in the trunk. "It's just girly things." Harry watched her close the lid, thinking that if he had a trunk full of his mother's things, he would want to know the stories behind every bit of it.

Ginny walked to the far end of the attic and crouched on her knees in front of the half-circle window that looked down onto the front yard and rain-soaked driveway. After lifting the lids of a few boxes and finding only old potion bottles, scraps of material, and the occasional odd device that looked as though it had far outlived its usefulness, Harry joined her by the window and sat, wrapping his arms around his knees.

"Thanks, Gin."

"Anytime," she smiled, patting him on the knee.

Her hand felt warm and it was gone all too quickly. Harry glanced at her sideways as she looked out the window, taking in her lightly freckled skin, the way her cheeks still held the trace of a smile, the way her hair was tucked behind her ear. She had shown him the Burrow, but more than that, she had shown him parts of herself. Her memories, her childhood, what she treasured most. He was struck again by a compulsion to know her better, to get closer to her. But how could he do that without her thinking he was being nosy, or worse, coming on to her?

They sat in silence for a while before Harry said, "It's funny, how you can spend a lot of time with a person and not really know them, isn't it? Take Neville. I was his dormmate for years before I knew about his parents. I never even thought to ask him."

"I know. That was so awful when that all came out."

"And Dean. I mean, what do I really know about him except that he likes West Ham football and that he's the only one of us who can get Seamus to stop singing those stupid Irish drinking songs at two a.m.?"

Ginny giggled. "Really?"

"And... and you." Harry didn't look at her, but continued to gaze out the window. If he had, he would have seen a look of complete shock on her face, mixed with not a little bit of hurt.

"Me? Harry, it's me, Ginny, the girl who used to follow you around like a lovesick puppy and embarrass you in front of your friends. We play on the same Quidditch team, you live in my house, you saved me from the sodding Chamber of Secrets for Merlin's sake. You've known me for ages."

She wasn't making this easy, Harry thought. "Not really, though. I mean, yes, we've done lots together and we have mutual friends, but we've never really... just the two of us... I just thought maybe, since we're here for the rest of the summer, we could get to know each other better."

She cocked her head to one side and wondered what on earth he was going on about. But the look in his eyes was so sincere that any sarcastic comment she might have made died on her lips. Her expression softened as she considered his words. Did he really think he didn't know her? How could he not? And yet, here he was, genuinely asking for permission to step into her life. He had no idea the door had already been open for a long time.

"Okay," she said cautiously, "but it may be a bit one-sided."

"Why's that?"

Ginny met his eyes with a penetrating gaze. "Because I think I already know you pretty well," she said with a soft smile.

Harry felt his guard go up. "You do? How?"

"I have my sources," she said with a twinkle.

Harry's face relaxed and he exhaled a chuckle. "Are they downstairs snogging right now?"

"Probably," Ginny laughed. "But I also know you because I pay attention. And because I..."

Her heart caught in her throat. She had not just been about to tell him that she loved him, surely. Because even though it might be true, she would certainly never tell him that. She had trained herself not to even think it. She dropped her eyes and cleared her throat before looking up at him again. "Well, I just do."

Harry didn't say anything but felt an odd mixture of comfort and relief. He never felt he had to prove himself to Ginny, or hold himself up to some unrealistic idea of the hero that everyone thought he was. She accepted who he was without question. She was just always there, supporting, cheering, challenging, pushing him, letting him be himself.

"And just what do you know about me?" he asked, lowering his eyes.

Ginny drew her knees up in front of her and rested her cheek on them, looking sideways at Harry. She smiled as she thought of the countless things she knew about him, times when he hadn't known she'd been watching, taking in every detail of him.

"I know that you hate it when people look at your scar, even though you're always polite about it. I know that your favorite Quidditch team is Puddlemere even though you tell Ron it's the Cannons. Your favorite candy is Pepper Imps and you hate Jelly Slugs. You always eat your meat first and vegetables last, and only jam on your toast, no butter. I know you chew on your thumbnail when you're working out a problem. And I know you've only been kissed once and that you sleep with your wand under your pillow."

She lifted her head and straightened her back, looking out the window once more. "When you get annoyed with Ron you clench your fists, but when you're annoyed with Hermione, you rub your forehead. Flying is your favorite thing to do when you want to be alone, and when you rub the back of your neck, that means you're tired."

She paused, feeling that perhaps she had revealed enough for the moment.

Harry was dumbstruck. "They told you all that?"

"No, I told you... I pay attention," she said, the corners of her mouth turning up at the look of utter shock on his face. "Well, except for the bit about being kissed once. Hermione told me that."

"Great. Remind me to thank her for that," he said ruefully. "Well, I guess I have some catching up to do."

Ginny laughed. She leaned forward on her hands and knees and looked at him playfully.

"Did I scare you?" she asked in a low voice.

"No."

"Oh c'mon, did so."

Harry looked into her dancing eyes and shook his head. "You're something else, you know?"

The grin on her face widened. "I'll take that as a compliment. Let's go and get some lunch."

She stood, brushing herself off, and Harry did the same. They wound their way through the boxes and down the stairs, emerging from the door just as Ron and Hermione were coming out of Ron's room.

"Thought we heard you up there," said Ron, a look of confusion settling on his face as he surveyed Harry. "How'd you get up there? Didn't the ghoul throw things at you and threaten to take your head off?"

"Who, Gerald?" Harry said, amused by the look on Ron's face. "No, Ginny introduced me, we got along just fine."

Ginny laughed and stepped forward to grab Hermione's hand. "Come on, let's get something to eat, I'm starving."

Hermione threw an amused glance over her shoulder at Ron and followed Ginny down the stairs.

"What were you two doing up there anyway?" Ron asked once the girls were out of earshot.

Harry shrugged. "Ginny was just showing me around." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "So," he continued, changing the subject. "Hermione."

"Yeah," said Ron, tensing slightly.

"You're really going to give it a try then?" Harry smiled.

A grin broke across Ron's face. "Yeah."

Harry gave a cautious nod. "Hurt her and I'll hex you so fast your -"

"I know," Ron interrupted, his smile fading somewhat, though not disappearing completely.

They stared at each other for a few seconds before Harry punched lightly Ron in the arm. "C'mon," he said, and they headed downstairs for lunch.