The Dementors' Kiss

Author's note: This chapter contains sock stealing, an idea that has grown outward from Imogen's Carpe Diem. It's not exactly a key point in the plot or anything, just a tribute to the story that got me thinking about writing HP fic.

One morning late in the holidays, Hermione and Ginny rose early, after the house ghoul decided to use the pipe above their room as a drum. They sat in the field beyond the Weasley garden hedge, and chatted idly about school and anything else that came to mind.

As the smell of cooking began to reach out from the kitchen, the two girls got up to go back into the house. Suddenly, the kitchen door banged open, and Harry stormed out into the garden.

"Weasley!" he bellowed, and began running towards the hedge. Hermione and Ginny clambered to their feet to watch the bizarre sight of their friend charging barefooted towards them, dodging stones and gnomes in equal measure, his glare fixed on Ginny.

"Err..." Ginny said, before turning and running. Hermione realised quickly that her friend was in trouble. Harry was extremely fast, and Ginny was too short to outdistance him. Harry cleared the hedge like an Olympic hurdler, his face set in a frown of concentration as his long legs easily ate up the distance between himself and Ginny.

"Mi... Hermione." The voice made her jump, and she turned to find Ron behind her, a contemplative look on his face. He held out a mug of hot tea, brewed, she could tell, exactly as she liked it. She took it carefully.

"Hello, Ron," she said. It was the first civil words they'd shared since the trip to Diagon Alley.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry," Ron said. "I can't tell you who to be friends with, it's not fair of me. Peace?"

"Peace," she said, gratefully. She raised the mug to her lips, and hid a small smile behind the lip. "What's Harry so upset about?"

"I guess Ginny's been nicking his socks." A shrug. "Um..."

"Yes?"

"Do you think Harry likes Ginny? They've been spending a lot of time together..."

"Of course he likes her."

"As more than a friend," Ron said. "Like he liked Cho Chang."

Hermione paused, unsure of how to reply. She knew that Ginny liked Harry well enough, it had become almost a standard in their lives. Harry liking Ginny? That was new.

"What makes you think that?" she asked. Ron looked out over the field, watching Ginny curl herself deeper and deeper into the branches of an oak tree as Harry jumped and flailed at her dangling feet.

"He's paying her a lot more attention this summer. And she's being a lot less, well, Ginny, around him."

"She's growing up, Ron," Hermione said, gently. "It happened to us too, remember?"

"She's my little sister, 'Mione," he said, and for once she didn't object to the shortening of her name. "I just don't want to see her getting hurt."

"You think Harry would hurt Ginny?" Hermione said, surprised.

"Not deliberately," Ron said, hurriedly. "But he's... he's Harry. Things happen to him. He can't help it, and if something really bad happens..."

Hermione reached over and squeezed Ron's hand. "I'm scared of losing him too, Ron."

"That's what I mean," Ron said, squeezing her hand back. He looked her in the face, and Hermione felt a tingle run down her spine as she suddenly realised how grown up Ron could look. "You hate the idea, I hate the idea... If something were to happen to Harry, I don't know how Ginny would cope. And if they were to get together..." He trailed off.

"I still think you're imagining things," Hermione said briskly. "They're more like brother and sister then anything else. Ginny was saying before Harry arrived that she feels like he's as much a brother to her as you or Fred or Charlie." Ron looked up, a grin on his face.

"That would explain the socks," he said. "She only steals them from people she feels really close to. Seamus reckons his little sister does it, too."

"Feeling better?" Hermione asked, still holding Ron's hand, and suddenly very aware of it.

"Yeah. Just... stuff. Venting, y'know?" Ron said. His eyes dropped to where his hand and Hermione's were clasped together.

"Well, if you ever need to talk, I'm always here to listen. I know you think I spend all my time in the library-"

"You do!" Ron cut in.

"Well then," Hermione said, smiling. "If you can find me among the books, I'm always happy to listen."

"Thanks, Hermione," Ron said. "I'm glad we made up. Again."

"Again," Hermione replied, giggling. "Now, shall we save Ginny?"

"What... OI! POTTER! Get your hands off my sister!" Ron bellowed, as he jumped to his feet and ran laughing to where Harry had tackled Ginny, and was trying to pull his socks off her feet while they laughed hysterically. Hermione joined the trio, and soon all four were rolling in the grass, helpless with laughter.

In the kitchen, Mrs Weasley paused from her serving up of breakfast to the hungry Weasley males, and looked out of the window. Even as Fred gestured hungrily for more bacon, she smiled to herself at the sight of the four teenagers enjoying themselves amidst the chaos that threatened their world.

*

That night, Mr Weasley returned home from work looking pale and drawn. He gathered everyone around the kitchen table, and quietly said, "The Dementors have left Azkaban. We can only assume that they have gone to join up with You-Know-Who."

Mrs Weasley gasped, and Harry paled at the thought of his most hated enemy in charge of the Dementors. Although he had long since mastered the Patronus conjuring spell, he felt a lot happier knowing that they were far away from him.

"Mr Weasley," he said, trying to project calmness into his voice. "Will the Ministry be hunting the Dementors."

"No," Mr Weasley said, bitterly. "We've been ordered to act as though everything was completely normal. There's to be no hunting, no word of this to anyone. I don't know what Cornelius Fudge is up to."

"The Minister is simply trying to prevent a panic, Father," Percy said, every bit as pale as Mr Weasley was.

"That may very well be true, Percy, but I would think that the right information would prepare people not to panic," Mr Weasley replied, rubbing his eyes and yawning. "I'll order everyone in my department to practise the Patronus spell. Just in case," he added, off of the look on Mrs Weasley's face. "In the meantime, I don't think they'll dare attack anyone just yet."

Despite Mr Weasley's comforting words, Harry felt a great coldness settling in his stomach. He resolved that he, too, would practise the Patronus spell, in case he once again came face to face with a Dementor.

*

That night was a restless one. Harry tumbled and tossed in his bed until he gave up trying to sleep. He walked downstairs, trying in vain to avoid the many creaky floorboards in the Weasleys' home. Walking into the kitchen, he was surprised to find himself with company.

"Hi, Ginny," he said softly. Ginny jumped in her seat, having been lost in thought as she stared at the last dying embers of the fire.

"H...hey Harry," she said, flushing bright red. At least he can't see this time. It's too dark in here. Oh, if only I could just go a day without turning red.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, sitting in the chair next to her. She shook her head. "I had a nightmare," she whispered. He looked at her in concern. "What was it about? If you don't mind me asking," he added.

"No, it's..." her head dipped, so that she was talking to her lap. "I was in the Chamber of Secrets again," she said. Harry frowned. He'd always thought that Ginny had recovered from the events of her first year at Hogwarts surprisingly well.

"I didn't know you still thought about it," he said. Ginny looked up, for a second her face was contorted into a scowl, then she saw the concern on his face, and she let the expression drop.

"I do," she said. "Sometimes. I know people think I hust got over it, but it does still affect me. When I feel bad, when I'm scared... It's like I'm being pulled back, to when I felt at my worst. And now the Dementors are loose... Harry, do you know what I see when the Dementors are nearby?" Harry shook his head.

"I'm back in the Chamber," she said, her voice hollow. "Tom Riddle attacking me, I can feel myself dying, slipping away, I can see the basilisk, and you fighting it... And there's nothing I can do! The worst feeling was how helpless I was. I felt so bad about it, so scared, so weak..."

"Ginny, it wasn't your fault," Harry said, forcefully. "You were being controlled. Riddle was a powerful wizard, older and stronger than you. You know who he grew up to be. I don't think I could have done anything against him if he'd been in my mind all year. You did well to hold on as long as you did. I mean, you fought against him for so long that year. He must have tried putting you under the Imperius spell, but you kept fighting him, kept breaking free. How many people could have done that?"

Harry slipped out of his chair, and knelt in front of Ginny, taking her hands in his. "I was scared too, that day. I was scared that you were dead. That someone I wanted to get to know a lot better had been taken away, from me, from her family. I just wanted to beat Tom Riddle so badly when I knew what he'd done to your family, what he'd done to you."

Ginny looked up, her eyes blurred by tears welling up. She choked down a sob, and squeezed his hands tightly. "Harry, she said, her voice cracking. "Did I ever thank you for saving me?" she asked. Then; "Thank you."

Harry pulled her into a hug, holding her closely against him. "You're welcome," he whispered.

They stayed holding one another for a long time. When the Weasleys began to descend for breakfast the following morning, they found Harry and Ginny asleep on the couch together. The two had to put up with some merciless teasing for the rest of the day, though both took it in good heart. Occasionally, they would catch each other's eye, and share a smile, content with knowing the truth.