Consequences of the Heart

Chapter Five - On the Cusp of Something Grand

Walking quickly into the Burrow's living room, Ginny deposited her blanket on the back of the cracked vinyl sofa and moved to the empty kitchen fireplace. She grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the grate, not letting a second pass before shouting, "Hermione Granger!" and sticking her head in the bright green flames that erupted.

Her head had an oddly detached feeling to it that Ginny had never gotten used to as it stretched and swirled through the Floo network. In an instant, the image of a tidy, carpeted room, warmly lit by several lamps came into focus.

"Hermione!" she yelled, feeling a bit panicky. "Are you there, Hermione?"

Feet pounded on the stairs and a bushy-haired girl came into view, pulling at a dressing robe as if she had just put it on. "Ginny? What's wrong? Is anyone hurt?" she said, still panting from her quick descent from the upper floor.

"Nothing like that," Ginny said hastily. "I need you to come to the Burrow."

Hermione's face couldn't mask her surprise. "Now?" she asked tentatively.

"Yes," said Ginny as she nodded her head vigorously. "It's really important."

"Are you sure no one's hurt?" Ginny shook her head quickly, worried that she hadn't thrown enough powder in for a longer call and that the Floo network would suck her head back to Ottery St. Catchpole. Hermione's lips stretched thin, but she nodded. "All right."

"You might as well spend the night," offered Ginny with a note of pleading in her voice. "It's Harry's birthday tomorrow, and we'll be starting things early."

Hermione stared at her friend for another moment, clearly weighing her options, before her pressed lips curved at the ends. "It sounds like we've got a lot to talk about," she said with a knowing smile. "Things going well with you and Harry, then?"

"Just hurry and grab your things," said an agitated Ginny. "We can talk when you get here."

"Fine, fine," Hermione said, edging back towards the stairs. "I'll see you in a minute then."

"I'll be waiting in my room. Just walk straight there and don't pay attention to anything Ron or Harry says."

Hermione crooked an eyebrow at the redhead and said, "What's the big dea - " but it was too late. Ginny's head was pulled back through the Grangers' grate and -- with a giant sucking sound -- popped back into the flameless fireplace in her own kitchen.

"Who were you talking to, dear?" asked her mother, startling Ginny.

"Mum!" she exclaimed, turning around and clutching at her chest. "It was - it was Hermione. She's coming over," said Ginny as her heart-rate evened out.

"Oh?" asked her mother. "I don't seem to recall anything about her staying the night."

"Please, Mum?" begged Ginny, folding her hands together in front of her upturned face. "It's Harry's birthday tomorrow and we've got to...plan and...things before the party."

Molly continued to give Ginny a sceptical eye, but they were interrupted before she could reply. "What about a party?" came a voice from the open garden door. Harry was staring back at her, confusion and a little bit of fear etched into his face.

With a squeak that was all too reminiscent of the first time Harry had been in the Burrow, Ginny shot up the stairs and slammed her door shut.

Even though it seemed like an eternity, it was only a few minutes later that she heard a timid knock on her door.

"Come in, Hermione," she said quickly, absently biting on her nails as she sat on her bed.

The door creaked open and a clearly flustered Hermione walked in, holding a bag in one hand and Crookshanks in the other. She put the bag on the floor next to Ginny's overflowing desk and shut the door before her bandy-legged familiar hopped down and made a bee-line for Ginny's legs.

"All right," said Hermione as she walked over to the bed and sat heavily next to her friend. Crookshanks was walking a lazy figure-eight around Ginny's feet, pushing his head along her calves and purring contentedly. "I had to pry myself away from Harry and Ron downstairs. So tell me...what's got you all wound up?"

"I don't know...exactly," Ginny answered with a sigh. Then looking her friend in the face, said, "What do you know about magical connections between two people?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Well," she started hesitatingly. "There hasn't been a whole lot of research on the subject, but I've read a few books here and there." Ginny continued to chew on her fingernails, making sharp biting noises with each one. "And, uh, I wrote a paper summarizing the research on the area as an extra credit project for Professor Flitwick last term. Why do you ask?"

Her hands sinking slowly to her lap, Ginny sighed again. "Something happened in the paddock just now...with Harry."

Hermione didn't say anything, but pushed herself more fully onto the bed and grabbed a pillow to hug while Ginny continued.

"He and Ron were flying around, just tossing a Quaffle back and forth. I was lying on a blanket, not really paying attention to them when I started to think about Harry..." she trailed off, not sure how much of her feelings she should divulge right away, but certain that Hermione knew exactly what was going on. "So I had his face in my mind and then it all of a sudden changed to what Harry was seeing."

For the second time in as many minutes, Hermione was clearly surprised. "Are you sure? Your mind could have just been extrapolating what your subconscious knew they were doing and projected it into your mind."

Ginny slowly shook her head. "No, Hermione. I'm sure this was real." She pulled herself onto the bed, mirroring her friend's position and hugged a pillow of her own. "I know it was real because as soon as it happened, Harry turned to look at me and...I mean...I just knew. And from the way he looked at me, I know that Harry knew, too. Harry got hit with the Quaffle when he was flying - I saw the ball come up to my face - I was certain that I'd bloodied my nose - but I hadn't of course, because I was on the ground and Harry was the one who was in the air, getting hit by the Quaffle."

Hermione adopted her thinking pose; head slightly bowed, brows furrowed, lips pursed and fingers tapping absently on her chin. "I don't know, Ginny," she said finally. "It doesn't sound like Dark Magic, but there's something odd about it. This hasn't happened before?"

"No," said Ginny, shaking her head and petting Crookshanks distractedly while he licked his paws.

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione leaned forward and quietly, said, "Did anything, you know...happen between you two today?"

"I..." began Ginny, then changed her mind. "No, nothing happened. Not like that anyway..."

When Hermione's piercing gaze didn't diminish, Ginny hedged. "Well, I mean...nothing physical has been going on and we haven't confessed our undying love for each other," she said with a half-hearted chuckle.

"But something did happen, didn't it?"

Ginny started to chew her nails again, then said, "If you count the pond incident, I suppose."

When it was clear that Ginny wasn't going to volunteer any information willingly, Hermione said with a huff, "Are you going to tell me or not? Honestly, you're just as infuriating as your brother."

Ginny smiled at that comment, knowing exactly what she meant. "Harry was attacked by a Grindylow when he was working on the dock at the pond."

"What pond?" interrupted Hermione.

Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Ginny settled for another chuckle. "Where have you and Harry been? The one over the hill, that's been there since before the Burrow was built," she explained patiently.

"Never mind," Hermione said, waving a hand in the air dismissively. "What happened after he was attacked?"

"He fell in and didn't come up, so I assumed he needed help and dove in after him. When I saw him struggling for breath, I broke the little monster's fingers and pulled Harry out of the water." A distant look was fixed on Ginny's face as her mind took her back to the fear she had felt for Harry's life and to the fluttering in her stomach as they sat together on the shore.

"Earth to Ginny," came Hermione's voice as she waved a hand in front of Ginny's face, breaking into her reverie. "There's more to this story, isn't there?" she said with a smirk.

Knowing that her cheeks were tinged with pink, Ginny simply nodded her head.

"We can go over that in a minute. First, let's analyze what we've got so far...." Ginny forced her feelings down, as she had for so many years and focused on what Hermione was saying.

"You've had a visionary episode where you've seen through Harry's eyes and he's aware of it. Immediately prior to this experience, you saved Harry's life, creating a Wizard's debt. Three years ago, Harry saved your life," she said, moving her hand through an imaginary list in the air. "Then there's the whole business with Voldemort's connection with Harry through his scar that gives him other kinds of visions to think about."

"Oh," said Ginny as a thought popped into her head. "You don't think that because we were both possessed by him that it could affect whatever it is that's happening, do you?"

"Hmm," said Hermione slowly. "That's a possibility, but I'd have to check that out before we can be sure. The fact that you have a Wizard's debt going in both directions is most curious. Many people think that one debt cancels the other, but Professor Vector once did an Arithmancical proof that showed that that's entirely wrong. A debt going in both directions can provide the basis for an Egretic bond."

"Egretic?" Ginny asked.

"It's a type of connection that's formed through unintentional magic," Hermione replied. "The bond that Harry shares with Voldemort is a form of Egretic bond - once established, they are only broken by death."

They sat together for a few minutes, pondering on Ginny's situation, when Hermione said, "Well, there's not much more we can do about it right now. That is, unless you want me to Floo to Hogwarts and go to the library."

"No," chuckled Ginny, seeming to calm now that her thoughts were out in the open, "that won't be necessary."

"All right. So what's really going on between you and Harry?" Hermione asked with a twinkle in her eye.

Vainly fighting the blush on her cheeks, Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "I'm not really sure," she said. "When the summer started, I'd have kicked him in the crotch as soon as I'd laid eyes on him. But now..."

Ginny trailed off, getting lost in her thoughts again. Harry had been different these past few weeks. It seemed that after they had been able to talk about Sirius, his countenance had been lighter, his mood happier. Harry was happy, and he wasn't shoving her to the sidelines of his life this summer. That part was nice, but she was afraid of being trapped in the web that surrounded his life, and she desperately wanted to remain in control of her life and emotions.

"But now?" prodded Hermione gently.

"Now...things are complicated," said Ginny reluctantly. "We're definitely over the whole duelling fiasco at school; that's not an issue, really. The problem is that we've been kind of forced to be there for each other and I think.... I think he's starting to see me for who I am now, not the silly little girl I used to be when we first met. We're friends - of that much I'm sure, but I don't know if it goes beyond that yet. I don't know it I want it to go beyond that just yet."

"Yeah, right," Hermione replied, giving her a stare that was broken by a smile that threatened to split her face open. "That's wonderful!" she cried, and then gathered Ginny in a warm hug, sending Crookshanks onto Ginny's abandoned pillow. "I told you to be patient with him and everything would work out in the end."

"Nothing's happened yet," said Ginny warily. "I'm not getting my hopes up, either."

"No," said Hermione as they disengaged from their embrace. "That wouldn't be wise, but still...you've got to admit that there's been a marked improvement. You're not trying to do him bodily harm any more."

"Maybe you're right, Hermione," Ginny said with a smirk

"So let's talk about the party, then," Hermione said as they both straightened up on the bed. "What did you get Harry for his birthday?"

*

"Ow," said Harry thickly as he daubed a wet towel on his nose. It had a small circle of scarlet on its tip, evidence of the Quaffle's damage. Hermione had just retreated up the stairs, ignoring both Harry and Ron's attempts to ask her what she was doing there.

"Sorry," said Ron for the millionth time as they sat at the kitchen table. "I thought you were watching."

"It's fine," Harry said, pinching his nostrils closed to stem the blood flow. "I'b had worse."

It was the truth, but even if it hadn't been, Harry wasn't particularly concerned about his bloody nose. Instead, Harry continued to mull over in his mind what had caused him to basically blank out before the leather ball had done its damage. One moment, he was watching Ron dive for the Quaffle, and the next, his vision went blank and he had felt a flash of something...foreign. It was like the out-of-body experiences he'd shared with Nagini and Voldemort, and that was not at all comforting.

It was as if someone had turned on a dim lamp and he saw the darkening blue sky above him and the sensation of sitting up when he saw...himself, hovering on his broom. The disorientation of that experience was enough to keep him from figuring out what was happening, then the Quaffle hit his face, stopping the vision. That was when he knew. It was Ginny's eyes he had been looking through and when he turned to see her, her shocked expression only confirmed what had happened. The part that had really scared him, was that his scar was cooler than normal and sent a jolt of...something through his forehead. It wasn't painful, or even itchy, but one thing Harry had learned over the years, was that nothing good had ever come from anything to do with the bolt of lightning that graced his forehead. This fell into the category of really weird.

"So what do you think?" asked Ron, who had been talking the whole time.

Harry struggled to remember the snippets of conversation that had made it to his head during his ruminations. "I'm sorry," offered Harry. "I must have zoned out a bit."

Ron didn't look put out by his friend's behaviour however, and simply smiled instead. "No problem, Harry. You've had a lot to think about over the summer."

Harry grunted, still half-puzzling over his scar. Should he tell Dumbledore? What did Ginny have to do with his scar? Was Voldemort using Ginny somehow to plant visions in his head?

"Listen, Harry," started Ron again, bringing Harry's thoughts back to the Burrow's kitchen. "I've been meaning to ask you something for a year or so."

"Yeah?" said Harry, whose curiosity was suddenly piqued. "Fire away."

"Well...it's like this. I got a letter from Padma Patil last week that sort of reminded me about it." Ron shifted apprehensively in his chair and drained his mug with a shaky hand. "You see, she sort of wanted to ask me to ask you if you and Cho were still going out and if you weren't, which I told her you weren't by the way, would you consider dating Parvati?"

Harry's mouth dropped open and his brain ground to a halt. Parvati?

"I know it's a bit odd," Ron continued with the same frantic pace, "especially since it's coming through her sister and then through me, but I told her I'd ask, so...there you are."

"How long have you been writing to Padma?" asked Harry, who said the first thing that came to his mind.

A light pink stole across Ron's ears as he looked down at his empty mug, nervously rolling it between his hands. "Since last summer."

Harry's jaw sank towards the table for a second time. "How come you never told me?"

"It's not a big deal," answered Ron, seeming to regain his confidence. "I was horrible to her at the dance and I agonized over it until Ginny made me write her last summer. With all that was going on with the Order and you and everything, I just never brought it up."

Closing his mouth with a snap, Harry placed the towel down on the table. The bleeding had stopped, and he let a smile slip onto his face. "So is there...anything going on with her?"

The pink on Ron's ears had never dwindled, but now shot into a full-fledged blush, tracing its way across his cheeks and forehead. "No!" he fairly shouted. Then more quietly, "We're just friends. But she's told me that she sort of fancied me since the dance and flirts with me occasionally in her letters."

"Ron...I'm impressed," offered Harry, still grinning from ear to ear. Then he sobered and with the straightest face he could muster, said, "But what would Hermione think?"

"What's Hermione got to do with anything?" Ron asked after a moment's hesitation.

"Oh, nothing, I'm sure." Harry filled in quickly, but knew that his friend was caught. Harry has suspected for the past few months that Ron's friendship with Hermione was on the verge of something else, but couldn't be sure. Judging by his well-concealed friendship with Padma and his hesitance to address Hermione's feelings on the matter, Harry concluded that something was definitely going on and that intervention would likely be necessary to bring out Ron's feelings for their other friend.

"So you never answered my question, you know." Ron had once again mastered his emotions and was now pinning Harry with an appraising stare.

"About Parvati?" Harry asked, stalling for time. "I wasn't nearly as generous as you after the dance. Are you sure she doesn't hold that against me?"

Ron leaned in and with a cursory glance around the room, said, "From what her sister tells me, you could be infested with Nargles and she'd still want you."

Now it was Harry's turn to blush and he fidgeted with his collar while he tried to think of something to say to Ron. "Well...she's a pretty enough girl. But I reckon she's a lot like Cho.... pretty face, nice figure, but no common sense where it counts."

"Yeah," said Ron quietly. "Yeah, I think you're right. Padma's not like that of course..." Ron stopped himself mid-sentence, and caused another grin to split Harry's face. "So how about you? Who do you fancy, then?"

"Me?" said Harry as the smile fell from his face just as fast. "I don't fancy anyone anymore. I reckon Cho enlightened me to the fact that I'm just not ready for a relationship. I told your sister as much yesterday."

"You talked to Ginny about dating?" asked a surprised Ron.

"Yeah...but it's no big deal."

"Sure, sure," said Ron as they heard a clock in the living room chime nine times. "What I think you should do...is make a list."

Harry was instantly sceptical as he polished off his juice. "A list?"

"Yeah, a list," Ron said as he refilled his mug from the pitcher on the table. "You write down all the girls you think would possibly be interesting. Then we start taking some off until we're down to a few that you really like."

"Ron," said Harry patiently. "What good is that going to do when I told you I wasn't ready for any kind of relationship?" While arguing this point, a niggling, dissenting voice in the back of his mind pointed out that he'd been harbouring just those types of thoughts about a certain Weasley, but he'd rather not admit his growing fascination with Ron's sister to anyone, particularly Ron.

"All I'm asking is that you think about it," said Ron as he drained his second glass and set it down heavily onto the table. "Think about the girls you think are cute and we'll have this conversation again, all right?"

"Fine," conceded Harry. "But don't think I'm not going to do the same favour for you..."

Ron blanched for a second, then gathered his and Harry's glasses and plopped them down into the sink. "Whatever. Mum said you're spending the night and that you've already got clothes in a bag upstairs."

"How about I kick your arse at Wizard's chess, then?" said Harry cheekily.

Ron's eyes narrowed as he leaned against the counter. "Consider yourself dead, Potter."

*

Early the next morning, the pungent odour of frying bacon and freshly baked scones carried up to the top level of the Burrow where Ron and Harry were sleeping. Ron was a man possessed as Harry watched him throw on yesterday's clothes, push a plastic comb through his hair and head out the door. "Breakfast!" he exclaimed in a one-word explanation for his haste.

Harry could only shake his head and watch his friend leave as he scratched his head sleepily and stifled a yawn.

He was just pulling a clean shirt over his head when two heads appeared in the doorway.

"Happy Birthday!" Hermione and Ginny chorused. Harry squinted at them for a second before finding his glasses and shoving them on his face.

"Thanks, Hermione, Ginny," he said, nodding to each.

"That will never do," said Hermione as she walked into the room and swept him up in a hug. Ginny was right behind her and they eyed each other warily as Hermione continued her embrace. When the girl he considered his sister released him, Harry was faced with Ginny.

"Happy Birthday, Harry," she said sheepishly. Harry gave her a stiff one-armed embrace while Hermione looked on.

"Thanks, Ginny," said Harry, wondering how girls could smell so fresh and clean first thing in the morning. He resisted the urge to check his breath and made a mental note to head for the loo to brush his teeth, first thing.

Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him out the door. Then, as if reading his mind, said with a wrinkled nose, "Get your teeth brushed, then meet us downstairs for breakfast. You don't want to wash down a mouthful of germs with your food."

Ginny laughed into her hand and Harry walked down to the bathroom to comply.

When Harry made it to the kitchen table, Ron was already on his second plateful of food, as Harry was intimately familiar with the amount of time it took his friend to eat a plateful of food. Hermione and Ginny were seated opposite him, so Harry occupied the seat across from Ginny. Mrs. Weasley was busy sending loaded plates of food to the table even while she was cooking up more. There were rashers of bacon, baskets of scones, sliced apples and oranges, three different puddings, and a platter of sausages adorning the table, hardly leaving room for their plates.

Harry was midway through his meal when Hermione folded her paper towel and leaned over the nearly-empty basket of scones. "We need to talk about what happened between you and Ginny yesterday," she said in a whisper.

Mrs. Weasley walked over to the table as she was untying her apron. "I'm off to make a few stops in the village. Mind the dishes for me, Ginny?"

"Sure thing, Mum," she said brightly and her mother was out the door, purse in hand.

Ron, who had swallowed his pudding, gave Harry an odd stare. "Something happened between you and Ginny?"

"You remember the thing with the Quaffle last night?" Harry said, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

"What's that got to do with Ginny?" Ron persisted.

"We swapped heads for about thirty seconds, Ron," interjected Ginny. "I could see what Harry saw and he was looking through my eyes."

Ron goggled at his sister, completely forgetting about his food. "You mean...you mean like with that snake that attacked dad last Christmas?"

"Yes, Ron, exactly like that," added Hermione.

Harry debated whether or not he should say anything to correct them when he felt a pressure on his foot. Looking up, he met Ginny's pleading gaze. "Funny you should mention that," he said, tearing his eyes from Ginny. "I felt something in my scar when it happened, but I don't think it was Voldemort."

Ron flinched at the name and Hermione sucked in a breath. "You don't think he could have been influencing you two, do you?" she asked seriously.

"I don't think so," Harry began. "I mean, my scar didn't exactly hurt or anything. At least, it didn't feel like it ever has when Voldemort was planting visions in my head before."

"Hmm," said Hermione sceptically. "You need to let Dumbledore know about this, Harry. It could be serious."

"I agree," piped in Ginny, still staring at Harry. "I don't like the implications of Tom being in either one of our heads."

Harry had been about to tell Hermione where she could stick her advice as Dumbledore wasn't on Harry's list of favourite people right then, and he wasn't exactly thrilled with the prospect of talking to him about anything, much less Voldemort. But something in Ginny's eye made him think twice. "All right," Harry temporized. "I'll write him a letter after breakfast and see what he has to say."

"Better yet," continued Ginny. "You can tell him this afternoon in person. I heard Mum telling Bill that he would be here for your birthday."

"What?" asked Harry forcefully. "It's bad enough you all are even doing this party thing, but now Dumbledore's got to be here, too?"

"It's okay, Harry," said Ginny as she reached across a hand and touched it tentatively to Harry's arm. Something passed between them in a spark and they both flinched. But in that fraction of a second when they had been touching, a warm flood of peace flowed into him, swallowing up his anger.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a glance and under his breath Ron muttered, "You bloody well better sort out what's happening because I'm not sure if I can take you two going wobbly every time you get near each other."

They all chuckled and even Hermione had a wry smile on her face despite Ron's colourful language.

"Fine," said Harry slowly. "I'll talk to Dumbledore when he comes to the party."

"Excellent!" announced Hermione. "Now let's finish breakfast so we can decorate!"

Unused to such an enthusiastic Hermione, Harry shovelled another helping of pudding into his mouth and tried to think of something civil to say to his Headmaster.

*

Harry had never had a birthday party, not really. The closest had been when he turned eleven and had his own cake delivered by Hagrid on that little storm-tossed island. This one more closely resembled what he would have imagined. There were decorations, a fabulous meal prepared by Molly Weasley, presents, ice cream (charmed to resist melting in the July heat) and cake. Harry had barely noticed this because he spent half his energy monitoring his consciousness for anything alien, and the other half trying to not break out into fits of giggles at how the Weasleys were trying to force him into close proximity with their daughter and sister.

When it came time for the birthday song, Harry made an effort to make eye contact with everyone that was there. The twins were modifying the words so that instead of Harry being a 'Jolly good fellow', he was now a 'Bowl of lime Jell-O' in honour of the Muggle confection that Hermione insisted be present. Ron was making a show of standing as close to Hermione as possible, without actually touching her. Bill and Fleur flanked them, both shooting each other odd glances during the course of the party.

As he locked eyes with Ginny it happened again, he felt her feelings: sadness that this was his first proper birthday celebration, joy that she was there singing to him and a muddle of feelings towards - him. It was simply too much, too fast. Harry broke eye contact, and when he did, the surge of emotions ceased.

Luckily, the song had ended and they were all clapping as Harry blew out the candles on his cake and resolved to speak with Dumbledore as soon as he had the chance.

Presents were opened and piled into a corner. Dumbledore appeared in the garden with a muted pop and immediately began to mingle with the Weasleys, instantly enamoured with the green bowl of Jell-O.

Harry made a polite excuse to Fleur, and meandered through the crowd to where his headmaster was speaking with Remus and Mr. Weasley.

"Professor Dumbledore?" asked Harry when a break in the conversation allowed him. "Could I have a word?"

"Ah, Harry," said the elderly wizard with a gentle smile. "Birthday greetings are in order, are they not?"

"Thank you," said Harry as civilly as he could manage. "It's been a wonderful day."

Harry led Dumbledore to a somewhat secluded spot by the biting rose bushes and didn't waste a minute to let go of everything that had weighed on Harry's mind since the end of June. "First, I need to apologize for my behaviour in your office and with Ginny the following day."

Silence lingered after Harry finished and Dumbledore continued to stare at his younger companion. "And I too, am in need of apologizing to you, Harry. Had I known the outcome of my decisions regarding your care and treatment, I would have made them differently. Alas, time does not allow such indulgences, so we are forced to deal with things as they are." The old wizard paused for a moment as a bee zoomed from the grasp of one of the rose bushes and past their heads in a lazy 'S' shape. "Harry, please forgive me, I've been responsible for so much of your pain and suffering of late."

Harry was caught up short. He had been ready to lash into Dumbledore to continue raging against the injustices that he was only now realizing were heaped upon him because of what this man thought were his best interests. Instead, under the steady gaze of those piercing blue eyes, Harry could not find the pool of anger that was so often simmering within him, and as he sorted through his feelings, he realized that he had arrived upon forgiveness in the truest sense of the word. Harry, feeling another flood of emotions, this time most definitely originating from within, took a step towards this man and wrapped his arms awkwardly around him.

"I forgive you," said Harry, voice thick with emotion. And to his everlasting surprise, he felt Dumbledore's arms reach around his own back to return the embrace.

"And I you."

Regaining his composure, Harry pulled back and said, "There's something else that I need to tell you, sir."

Dumbledore's eyebrow hitched slightly and Harry continued, "Something to do with my scar. I...uh, well, Ginny and I sort of had an experience yesterday and then something else happened this morning and again when we were singing."

Harry proceeded to tell his professor about the switched vision and impressions of emotion that had occurred since yesterday. He also related Hermione's suspicions and theories.

Dumbledore pondered his words for a second, and then said, "Wait here," before moving off through the crowd.

Returning with Ginny, Dumbledore made the smallest of circles with his wand. Harry noticed that while he could still hear the conversation on the other side of the garden, he couldn't make out any of the words. "So, you see what he sees, and you see what she sees? Is this correct?"

"Yes, sir," Ginny squeaked.

"Do you wish for this to continue?" Dumbledore asked.

"No!" Ginny said at the same time Harry was saying, "Yes."

They stared at each other. Dumbledore held his wand in front of Harry's face, moving it in a figure eight pattern, repeating the pattern in front of Ginny's face. Next he closed his eyes for a moment, opening them with a sigh. "Your friend is correct, this is a variety of Egretic bond. I can dampen the effect for a while, which will make it easier when you are in close proximity, but once you are back in school, you will need to work on controlling the phenomenon, and perhaps harnessing it for good purposes. I do understand that it is quite confusing to be riding two brooms at once when each is going in the opposite direction."

Harry and Ginny continued to look at each other, and Harry thought he could read the questions flitting across her face, mingled with the tension and concern. Finally, Harry nodded every so slightly and she let out a breath in relief. "Do what you can, Professor."

"Give me your hand, Ginny, now you Harry," Dumbledore said, placing their palms together. "This is going to hurt," he cautioned. He placed his hand over their now clasped hands, squeezing while tracing his wand along the outer edge of their fingers. It felt like alternating fire and ice, shooting up his arm. Looking at Ginny's face, he guessed that she was having a similar reaction. When Dumbledore released his grip on their hands he smiled. "You don't have to let go if you don't want to, but the Bond won't interfere with normal sensation and cognition - this is a temporary dampening which will only last one lunar cycle. Good evening to you both," he said before cancelling the privacy charm and moving back into the garden. Looking over his shoulder, he said, "Do try to enjoy your remaining holiday, Harry."

Glancing at their still joined hands, Harry had a sneaking suspicion that the Headmaster's admonition wouldn't be all that difficult to obey.

"Come on," said Ginny gently as she entwined her fingers in his as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Let's make sure the twins haven't spiked the punch." Then with a tug on his hand, Harry let her lead him back into the crowd of people, a goofy smile fixed on his face.

*

The next day was Thursday and with the dock completed, Harry briefly wondered if he would be able to spend the rest of his week as he had for his birthday. Upon arriving at the Burrow however, the sight of several large plastic buckets told him otherwise.

Ginny was sitting on the bench by the garden door, one leg crossed over the other, bouncing in time to some song that seemed to only be in her head. Harry thought he could guess the tune and the thought made him determined to wheedle the title out of her at some point.

"What's on tap for today?" he asked as he approached her.

She turned to look at him and a slow smile spread across her face. Her hair was pulled back into some kind of twist that let several tufts dangle across her neck, but otherwise left the bulk of her bright red hair up and generally contained. She was wearing another cotton summer dress, this one lilac, that hung modestly around her lithe frame, exposing only her collar bone at the top and falling just below her knees. For some reason though, she looked different to Harry and he had to resist the urge to push his fingers through the hair at the base of her neck as she stood to greet him.

"Hi, Harry," she said demurely when they were close together. Harry's breathing hitched and a flash of panic raced through his body when she grabbed his hand again, but there were no alien thoughts or disorienting visions assaulting his mind.

With a shaky breath, he relaxed and gave her hand a squeeze, strangely comfortable with her hand being there. "What are the buckets for?" he asked, pointing to them with an extended finger.

"Mum's got us picking in the garden today," she said with a small laugh. "I reckon she's gone soft on you since yesterday, as she let slip that if we don't finish today, we'll have to pick the rest tomorrow."

"I'm not going to slack off because it was my birthday, Ginny," said Harry with a shake of the head.

Ginny didn't say anything at first, but simply looked at him with a bemused expression. "I suppose I'll just have to distract you then."

"Why would you do that?" asked Harry sincerely. "If your mum wants me to pick vegetables and it can be done in a day, why should I stretch it to two?"

A pale, freckled hand covered a laugh before Ginny gave up trying and let her humour break loose. "Honestly, Harry! Are you that daft? Mum wants you to take two days. It's the whole reason she made mention of it in the first place."

Ginny was still laughing as Harry held her hand loosely, trying to sort out what she was saying. "You mean, I'm supposed to slack off?"

She shook her head in amused incredulity. "Mum's not a total dictator...well, sometimes she is," Ginny amended. "But your sodding sense of honour won't let you take it easy, I can see." Then she let out a dramatic sigh and finished, "Come on then. Let's get you working so we can find out what chore Mum's got on backup for tomorrow."

Ginny tugged on his hand and laced her arm through three of the buckets' handles. Harry pulled back as she stood again. "All right, all right," he said bending to take three buckets of his own. "I'll...try to take it easy today." Then gazing at her from the corner of his eye, said, "But only because I wouldn't want you to sweat about having to do more chores."

She guffawed and they made their way to the vegetable garden, hands clasped, buckets swinging freely on their arms in a jaunty rhythm.

*

Setting their buckets down at the end of a row of green beans, Ginny and Harry surveyed the scene before them. "Right," said Ginny, trying to remember what her mother had said she needed first. "Beans, then tomatoes."

Harry gave her a quizzical glance and pointing to the seven long rows of trellises full of beans, said, "And you were worried about it taking more than a day?"

"Well," Ginny said as she half-turned to look back at him, her hands resting on her hips. "It's not that hard to pick beans, you know."

Harry chuckled and every time he did, Ginny gave a silent cheer at having made him laugh. "I've never done it before," he said sincerely, the smile slowly slipping off his face.

"That's all right, Harry," she soothed with mock pomposity, rubbing his bare forearm. "If you can tie your shoes properly, you can pick beans."

"Ha, ha," he said drolly and snatched up a bucket. "Fill the buckets?" he asked with a raised brow in her direction. She nodded and took a bucket herself as he moved to one side of the trellis and she to another.

They worked for a while in silence, each searching through the vines for the largest beans before pinching them off and dropping them in their gradually filling buckets. Ginny could see him through the vines, as they continued down the row and started on another set of plants. He seemed to be lost in thought, and as time went on, Harry's pace gradually lessened.

"Something on your mind?" she asked quietly, shaking him from his reverie.

"Huh? Oh...just thinking," he responded after giving her a cursory glance.

Ginny grinned and resumed picking. "I could tell," she said and he started to pick again as well. "Anything you want to share with me?"

He stopped picking again and looked up at her, sending her smile away like the morning's dew. "What is it?" she asked with a seriousness that surprised even her.

"Can you keep a secret?"

Ginny set her bucket down and came around to his side of the trellis. "Come on," she said, taking his hand again before leading him to the other end of the garden where a small tool shed stood. They sat on the cool grass on the shady side of the shed, their backs leaning against its wall and Ginny pulled her legs underneath her.

Harry didn't speak for a minute and although she wanted to yank whatever it was out of him, she restrained herself, recognizing his need to go at his own pace.

"You, uh...remember what it was Voldemort was really after in Department of Mysteries?" he said, staring at a row of zucchini.

Momentarily shocked that he would be talking about the event that lead to Sirius' death, she took a second to reply. "You mean, the prophecy?"

He nodded. "There was a reason he wanted it. A reason that he tricked me into believing that Sirius was being tortured there."

Ginny kept staring at him, even though Dumbledore had dampened their bond, she could feel the pain and anguish radiating off of him. Still, he did not show it.

"I know what the prophesy says, Ginny." Harry's eyes met hers and a dull ache resonated in her brain, a sadness that wasn't hers. Then words formed in the haze, echoing in her head as a pair of wide, goggling eyes appeared in her mind's eye.

The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches...born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies...and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not...and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives...the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies...

Hot tears welled in Ginny's eyes as the vision faded and the voice died. She haltingly shook her head and wiped at her face with the back of her hand. "No, Harry," she whispered fearfully. "It doesn't have to be you."

Harry's thumb reached up and paused, hovering over her cheek. Then he slowly wiped away her tears. "It's funny," he said with a sad smile. "But the prophecy could have referred to Neville, too."

"Neville Longbottom?"

"Yeah.... Good old Neville." Harry's hand hadn't left her face, even though her tears had long been dry. She sensed him try to move it away and she pressed her hand to his, forcing it to stay.

"I asked Dumbledore why he was so sure I was the one mentioned. Why it wasn't Neville." He sighed and Ginny could almost see the weight of the world settle onto his shoulders. Harry tapped at his scar, peeking through his fringe. "He marked me, Ginny, not Neville."

She looked up at him in wonder. How could someone so caring, so good and wonderful as Harry Potter, be saddled with the task of defeating the darkest wizard in a century? What cruel twist of fate had intervened in the Potters' lives to rip him from his parents and into the hands of those awful Muggles?

"I don't know why it has to be me, or why he killed my parents," he said, as if in answer to her unspoken questions, "but I know that I don't want anyone else to die because I didn't kill him first."

He said it with such conviction, such passion, that Ginny had no problem believing that he would be the one to live while the other did not survive. "Harry," she stated simply to focus his attention. Then gathering all her courage and strength, said, "You are going to beat Tom, and I'm going to be at your side when you do it."

Harry started to shake his head, eyes wide, but Ginny cut him off. "You listen to me, Harry Potter," she said as she jabbed a finger into his chest. "I've survived him once and I can do it again. What's more, you can't do this by yourself and even if you tried, I wouldn't let you!"

"Please, Ginny," he said quietly. "Please don't put yourself in danger for me."

"And sit on my arse while you go into the jaws of hell?" she asked accusingly. "I don't bloody well think so! You don't get it, do you? This is personal on both ends - I want to see Tom dead, and I very much want to see you alive. I may have wanted to hex the skin off of you a few weeks ago, but that's changed and I'll be hanged if I'm not going to see this thing through with you, Harry. Two is better than one; it's going to be with you and not without you."

They stared at each other for a long while and another feeling made its way dully through their link. A calm peace as exquisite as the pain that had preceded it told her that he accepted her stubborn demand and would not fight her. Even better, she could sense relief that he wouldn't be alone and that he was even glad that she had forced her way into his life.

"Thanks," he said simply.

"You're welcome," she replied with a warm smile. "Now let's get back to work before Mum thinks we've skived off."