By the Pricking of my Thumbs

"By the Pricking of my Thumbs"

By Penpusher

Epilogue

"In short, it was two-pronged attack."

Arthur Weasley leaned back in his chair and regarded the assembled company with varying degrees of gravity.

"It all began when Harry and Ginny discovered their curious mind-bonding ability during the troubles with You-Know-Who earlier this year," he continued. "We don't know exactly why this unexpected ability should have provoked such extreme countermeasures from the Dark Side, but they obviously considered it significant enough to merit a very well-planned offensive."

Arthur paused, turning a very severe expression on the young man slightly to his left.

"It has been said before, Harry," he began, shaking his head, "and I'll say it again just to rub it in thoroughly: you should have come to us for help when you first discovered this curiosity. You could have saved yourselves and numerous other people a great deal of trouble and anguish."

Arthur glared fiercely at Harry and also at his daughter, hoping to impress upon them the seriousness of the situation. They could have been killed! Or worse. Arthur shook his head; he wasn't going there, at least not yet. However, he knew that pretty soon he would have to tackle the ramifications. All of them...

Ginny lowered her eyes, her pale face devoid of expression. Two years. The deadpan voice beat relentlessly against her brain. She shook her head tiredly and gave an involuntary shiver. Harry compressed his lips into a thin line, sent the girl a swift sidelong glance and took a firmer grip on her hand before replying.

"You can be sure the consequences of my negligence have already been pounded into me with maximum force," he replied quietly and with dignity. "I have already promised never to let anything of this or any parallel nature go unreported, and I intend to keep that promise. Insofar as I can answer for the foreseeable future, of course."

"Ginny?"

Arthur's voice was gentle but inexorable. She shook her head again and dropped her eyes even further. Harry transferred her hand to his lap and caught it between his palms. He looked up.

"It's alright, Arthur," he affirmed. "You have my word; that should be enough. I will keep her safe."

Arthur gave Harry a long, measured look. You haven't exactly excelled yourself in that area so far, my boy, he seemed to be saying silently. Harry's frown deepened, but he did not look away. At length, Arthur nodded reluctantly.

"All right," he said, leaning back in his chair. "Now we've got that out of the way, we have to start making some decisions as to what happens next. We can't just wait around for the Dark Side to have another go at you. We need to find out more about this Bond of yours; investigate it, do some research. We have to find out why the Dark Side considers you so important."

They were interrupted by a slightly pretentious cough.

"Yes, well, if this - Bonding you share had been known to us at the Ministry from its first appearance, your so-called quest to Mexico wouldn't have been such a humiliating fiasco, not to mention a waste of Ministry time and resources."

All eyes turned deferentially towards the speaker. Tantalus Brown, Head of Operations, was a large man, slightly overweight with thinning brown hair and a manner at once arrogant and obsequious.

Arthur gave a civil smile that did not reach his eyes.

"Thank you, sir," he replied, politely but firmly. "I believe this topic has now been sufficiently covered. May I continue with the summary?"

"Yes, of course," Brown nodded, smiling faintly. "Be my guest." He gestured negligently for Arthur to continue.

The gang were summoned to the Ministry for debriefing immediately after the conclusion of The Mexican Affair, as it had rapidly become known. Ginny and Harry, reunited as soon as was practical after the arrest of Katia Valentin, seemed to have done little but talk and sleep the sleep of the dead since that time. Sirius spent several nights under observation in the Ministry Infirmary, but otherwise seemed none the worse for his ordeal.

Fred Weasley had returned from Iran bringing with him a subdued and shaken George, whose head was even now swathed in bandages.

"It seems I shall have yet more scars to help tell us apart," was George's only voluntary comment on his time in the Iranian jail.

George had gone through his preliminary debrief with a minimum of fuss, but he had yet to find the courage to relate the full horror of his experiences, even to his brother. Fred himself, despite the relief of procuring George's release, seemed to have suffered equally in the process and was, even now, still underweight and haggard-looking.

Ron had refused point-blank to co-operate without Hermione being present, and was now sitting as close to her as their two chairs would permit, one hand resting lightly on her thigh. To his own everlasting surprise, Ron had come out of the debacle in a blaze of glory, coping admirably, dragging their backsides out of danger several times in very tricky circumstances. Ever modest about his abilities, Ron himself had accepted the fulsome praise his Department Head had heaped upon him with a certain wry humour.

"Typical Weasley luck! For once I get a Departmental Commendation - and it's for beating the daylights out of my best friend!"

Harry looked at them all and sighed: the consequences of this adventure were far-reaching and totally unforeseen. A simple historical quest had turned into a nightmare of evil and twisted revenge that had pierced right to the heart of his family. He squared his shoulders, forcing himself out of his morass of self-blame. Not everyone had been injured. Harry stole a glance over to the far right of the group to where Lee Jordan sat either doodling aimlessly or working out the solution to some arcane puzzle in machine code. He smiled; the damage to Lee had been minimal. Even Sirius seemed to have bounced back, despite his obstinate silence over the mysterious Katia Valentin.

Harry dragged himself out of his introspective mood and squeezed Ginny's hand, taking in her listless appearance, and her general withdrawal. When Ginny started hugging herself, as she had been doing all too frequently lately, Harry knew things were bad. He shook himself and tried to pay attention to Arthur's summary.

"Not a very original scenario in either case," Arthur was remarking. "Seduction is a well-recognised technique in espionage, both Muggle and wizard, but it was the separation by distance which kept us from seeing the parallels earlier. Harry's situation was inherently dangerous, which was precisely why Ron was detailed as backup, but the events with regard to Ginny could not have been predicted."

Arthur leaned forward and gazed earnestly at his daughter, trying to catch her eye.

"Octavia Tenaxis was apprehended early this morning, Ginny," he continued. "She's now in Auror custody awaiting questioning, but I must say, my dear, it's unlikely that we'll ever be able to prove anything against her."

Ginny's head snapped up. Her eyes blazed with sudden fury.

"She set me up!" she whispered fiercely. "She was the one responsible for bringing Mar - for bringing Hold That Thought into my life. And you're just going to let her get away with it?"

Arthur shrugged and spread his hands sympathetically.

"There's nothing to prove that she co-operated and everything to say that she did not," he explained gently. "She bears a great deal of evidence proving her to have been under Imperius for long months at a time, and her willingness to take Veritaserum to unlock her memories, despite the discomfort this will undoubtedly bring is a very great point in her favour."

Tantalus Brown, until then mercifully silent, coughed slightly.

"Of course, we won't actually be using Veritaserum on Octavia," he interrupted. "It's obvious to anyone with an ounce of intelligence that she was acting under duress."

Ginny was shaking her head.

"But Draco - " she paused and swallowed, "I mean Malfoy spoke of her as though she were, well, a colleague, not a slave or a minion. He even knew how badly she makes coffee, for Merlin's sake."

Ginny turned to Arthur, totally disregarding his superior.

"Look, Dad," she said earnestly, "I'm not making it up: she's one of them, I'd stake my life on it!"

"Young lady, through your own foolishness, you very nearly did!"

Tantalus Brown interrupted Ginny's diatribe, chest swelling, thumbs hooked firmly in the armholes of his expanding, bespoke robes. Here was a man who did not relish being ignored.

"Octavia Tenaxis is a very well-respected figure in the entertainment world, has been for many years," he boomed. "She is also a personal friend of mine, and I can guarantee that she has never had any dealings with the Dark Side. You are not the only one, Miss Weasley, who has suffered at their hands. And Miss Tenaxis was merely being used, and very painfully too, for the sole purpose of getting to you, young lady. Think about that before you condemn her!"

Ginny's eyes widened suddenly. Incredulous, she stared at Brown as though she had never seen him before.

"Did I ask for this?" she whispered. "Was I responsible for a - a freak magical talent that suddenly appeared, unwanted, unasked for? Is this mess really all my fault, for not having realised how important this Bond is?"

She shivered, clenching her fists against the sickness that threatened to overwhelm her. Two years.

"No, Mr. Head of Operations, sir," Ginny continued, stiffly. "You can't shift the blame entirely on to me. After all, where were you when Harry desperately needed help? If it hadn't been for Mr. Brookes and Daddy, I would be a zombie and Harry would be working for the Dark Side. Or buried up to his neck and further in quicksand..."

"That's enough, Ginny."

Arthur's voice was sympathetic but firm. His bright eyes held Ginny's rebellious ones for a long moment until her head dropped in defeat. She leaned against Harry with an exhausted sigh and closed her eyes.

"Oh, where's the point?" she muttered. "It's all academic now anyway."

Arthur narrowed his eyes, but had no immediate opportunity to follow up his daughter's oblique statement. He turned to his superior.

"She's been through a great deal," he explained, unnecessarily. Brown nodded his head impatiently.

"Yes, yes," he replied. "I realise that young Malfoy pulled a very nasty trick on her which would have been, shall we say, tragic had he succeeded. But it has to be said that her account of her escape is extremely patchy to say the least."

"I don't suppose reliving it is exactly pleasant, sir," Fred protested mildly enough, although his eyes were hard. "After all, we all of us knew Malfoy Junior at Hogwarts, and the memories are scarcely joyful."

Brown tapped his quill on the desk, frowning.

"I hear what you are saying," he began. "But it occurs to me that you are all missing something here. Something not only extremely interesting, but potentially very, very useful."

He paused and Ginny felt a prickle of fear creep its way up her spine. Tantalus Brown, aware that the he had the attention of everyone in the room, rose from his chair with a satisfied smile and began to pace the floor.

"Draco Malfoy prepared this assault very carefully indeed," he began, stroking his receding chin with a blunt forefinger. "He took the trouble to build a totally new character, to ensorcell a well-respected figure in the music world, to insinuate himself into a group of people who could easily unmask him at the first slip, not to mention the difficulty involved in brewing the crucial potion in the first place. And yet, when it came to the crunch, he failed to follow his plan through to its final conclusion."

Brown stopped his pacing a few inches from Ginny's chair and frowned, deep in thought. Ginny did not look up.

"We have ample evidence from archives," Brown continued, "that Draco Malfoy has been extremely well-trained in all the dark arts, including the various enchantments of love, lust, obsession, slavery and compulsion. He is a very experienced and well-trained agent, despite his comparative youth. He has also undergone extensive instruction in all the - er, shall we say - physical skills of seduction. As applying to females, and also to members of his own sex, according to his Ministry profile."

Harry closed his eyes as a wave of nausea swept over him: he all but crushed Ginny's hand with the force of his grip.

"Now," said Brown, his eyes alight with eagerness. "Either Miss Weasley has developed skills powerful enough to overcome this type of enchantment - an occurrence which I seriously doubt, despite the existence of this so-called Mind Bond - or, unbelievable as it may seem, Draco Malfoy must harbour some kind of - personal weakness for her."

Ginny made a small, stifled sound, but beyond that was silent.

"And that, to me, Gentlemen, is very interesting indeed."

Brown finished his speech and scanned the assembled company with a wide, calculating smile. No one spoke. Sirius shifted uneasily in his seat.

"With respect, sir," he said, speaking for the first time. "Would you be kind enough to explain the significance of this deduction?"

Brown favoured him with a raised eyebrow.

"Certainly, Black," he replied expansively. "It's perfectly straightforward: if Malfoy cherishes a tendresse for Miss Weasley, this fact could be of great advantage to us in any further dealings with him. Very great advantage indeed."

Arthur's eyes blazed suddenly, but he did not speak. Fred cleared his throat.

"Sir, are you suggesting that we set her up? As a honey-trap?" he began, his tone deceptively mild.

"NO!"

Harry's arm snaked protectively around Ginny's shoulders and the look of resentment and disgust he directed towards Brown left no one in any doubt as to his opinion of that idea.

"I don't care what you do with me," he began in low, angry tones, "but you will kindly do us all the service of leaving Ginny out of any little scheme you might have concerning the Dark Side in general, or Draco Malfoy in particular."

Harry paused to take an unsteady breath and continued in a calmer voice.

"Ginny and I are neither of us Ministry employees and as such, we are not answerable to you or to anyone so wholly unconnected with any part of our lives," he began coldly. "And you can spare me the customary spiel about patriotism, loyalty to the wizarding world, and any other jingoistic claptrap you may choose to churn out whenever you can't get your own way by logic or persuasion."

Harry got to his feet, eyes blazing.

"I've had it!" he barked. "With you, and with the whole of this charade you call a Department, and until you're replaced by somebody with an IQ greater than the average ape, I will have no further professional dealings with the Operations Department of the Ministry of Magic!"

The silence was so thick it was almost tangible. Tantalus Brown began to stutter. The phrases "young whippersnapper" and "never been spoken to before" were more or less the only comprehensible words, but the gist was clear enough. Eventually, sensing that the mood of the meeting was no longer in his favour, Brown gathered the shreds of his dignity and stooped to pick up his briefcase.

"This debriefing is now terminated at 1047 hours," he managed to bluster, for the benefit of the automated recording devices. "If you will excuse me, Gentlemen - and, of course, Ladies - I have another meeting to attend before lunch."

He swept out of the room with as much bustle and importance as he could contrive in such a small space and with such uncooperative companions.

Fred moved to close the door promptly behind the Head of Operations. He looked around at the row of strained expressions and gave an odd, twisted grin.

"Strange how our revered superior always manages to slide away before any suspicion of blame attaches itself to his immaculate, pinstripe robes, don't you think?" he remarked conversationally to no one in particular.

"Pity no one did speak to him like that a long time ago. Might have taught him some manners," George responded sourly. Fred nodded in agreement.

"Fred, George!" admonished Arthur, sharply calling his sons to order. Fred shrugged indifferently, but returned to his seat obediently enough. George ignored his father and continued to turn his debriefing notes into paper planes. Arthur moved back to his own chair and shuffled some papers together.

"Well, now perhaps we can get on with this in a more businesslike manner," Arthur began, smiling blandly. Harry shook his head.

"Arthur," he began in puzzled tones, "before we continue, please - I must know. Can your man Brown actually compel our co-operation in this harebrained scheme of his? I mean, using Ginny to entrap Draco Malfoy?"

Arthur ran his hand through his thinning red hair.

"Harry, my boy," he said, "Tantalus Brown is a very powerful and well-respected figure in the Ministry. The tentacles of his influence are everywhere - I don't believe there is one single department he has not penetrated in one way or another."

"Could he make trouble for you? If we refuse to go along with him, that is?" Harry's expression was worried. Arthur sighed.

"Possibly," he admitted with reluctance, "but, Harry, I'm no longer young. I've climbed as high as I'm likely to get. I've reached the level of my own incompetence, as the saying goes. Ruining me would be an empty feat for Tantalus Brown, particularly as he knows I'm looking ever more eagerly towards my retirement with each and every day that passes."

Arthur glanced around at the circle of solemn faces, and then turned back to Harry.

"You did nothing I haven't wanted to do for years, but never dared," he said quietly. "And I trust you will treat this in confidence, all of you."

He paused, as though weighing his words carefully.

"As you know," he continued, "Tantalus Brown is Head of Operations - a very sensitive post which is, I'm afraid, clearly beyond his talents. He is a very effective administrator, but his limited abilities make him capable of precious little else. He has reduced my own department to total chaos."

"Too right!" echoed Fred feelingly. "All the Field Operatives hate him with a vengeance."

"It's being said on the grapevine that his incompetence lost us the life of at least one highly trained Auror," George added angrily. "Possibly more."

His father frowned heavily.

"That's merely speculation, George, and you know it!" Arthur told him firmly. "I appreciate your concern, but you have no proof to back up your allegations. If you start making waves of that sort, you'll find yourself without a job before you can say 'Alberic Gruinnon!'"

He glanced around the room.

"These things should not have been said," he told them firmly. "They must not be repeated outside these walls."

Arthur paused to glare meaningfully at his two sons. George held his gaze for an angry moment, then unwilling dropped his eyes in defeat. Fred stared stolidly at the floor. Arthur sighed, and then an idea seemed to occur to him.

"Harry's opinions are held very highly in the wizard world," he mused. "And this sort of head-to-head conflict with a senior Ministry official, particularly when it involves the threatened exploitation of a civilian, is unlikely to go unremarked or unreported - is it, Fred? George?"

Slowly, the twins raised hopeful eyes and solemnly shook their heads.

"Couldn't exactly keep that quiet, could you?" said Fred to George. "I mean, not with all these civilians earwigging in on the scene."

He nodded amiably towards Hermione, who responded with an indignant frown. George pursed his lips.

"Bound to be a leak somewhere with something that juicy," he agreed. "In all probability, Rita Skeeter, what do you reckon?"

The twins exchanged a glance and a nod. Fred turned back to his father.

"We'll see what we can do, Dad," he finished.

"The odds on Tantalus succeeding Cornelius to the post of Minister may be lengthening somewhat," muttered Sirius. "I hope."

"Now," Arthur said, ignoring Sirius, "I will begin this debriefing once again - properly this time. I think we can cover most of it before lunch, but please make yourselves available this afternoon for individual interviews, should anything further emerge."

Arthur then embarked upon a searching and detailed account of the Mexican Affair, asking astute questions and making notes of anything he felt needed to be followed up. The situation in Iran was one area that certainly needed some clarification. George retold his story with a certain amount of bewilderment.

"I always wondered why they sent me and not Fred," he complained. "The source of the information was Fred's contact, not mine. It was Fred who'd mugged up on the religious and political pitfalls for foreigners in the country, not me. I did my best, but really I was on a hiding to nothing, particularly when it turned out that our Source was actually working for the Dark Side and just waiting for me to make a mistake."

Arthur jotted down a few words.

"Lack of communication, George," he told his son, matter-of-factly. "Fred had already tried to appraise Tantalus of his suspicions regarding Harry's quest and had been shown the door. Tantalus then assumed that Fred was losing it; going into paranoia mode, that is, so he sent you instead, assuming that the Source would not know the difference."

Arthur shook his head and made a 'tut-tutting' sound.

"Criminal negligence," he muttered. "As if any Source would be that credulous! I'd better see what I can do to rectify the situation."

"As it happened, that circumstance triggered Lee into making the crucial connection," interrupted Fred, "so it's probably just as well."

"I also have a few leads on the whereabouts of the Iranian contact," George said unexpectedly. "I talked to a number of people in jail, and the results were quite surprising." Arthur nodded.

"I'll want to see both of you about that after lunch," he replied. He swept a glance around the others. "Anyone else have anything more to add? Lee? Hermione?" They all shook their heads. "Then this meeting is now adjourned at," he looked at his watch, "1225 hours. Fred, George - we will resume at 1400 hours."

Slowly, they rose from their chairs to file out obediently into the corridor.

"Oh, Ginny," Arthur called his daughter just as she was about to precede Harry through the door. She looked back enquiringly, but did not speak.

"Could I just have a brief word before you go to lunch?"

Harry made as if to accompany her, but Arthur shook his head.

"I'll be very quick," he said reassuringly. "We'll both join you in the restaurant presently."

Harry frowned, moving unwillingly through the door.

"I'll wait outside, Ginny. Okay?"

She responded with a faint smile, sinking back into her chair as Arthur motioned Harry out into the corridor, firmly closing the door.

Ginny sat immobile, gazing at the floor as her father skirted the desk and sat down again.

"Ginny," he said very gently, "are you going to be able to cope with this?"

It was a while before she answered. Slowly she stirred, easing tense muscles, rocking slightly as she mustered the strength to speak.

"I - don't know," she muttered. Arthur reached out over the top of the desk to take her cold hand in his warm one.

"There are trained people who can help you through this, you know," he began. "You've had a terrible trauma and been badly used by someone you trusted. It's bound to hurt."

Ginny hunched further into her chair, rocking more rhythmically now.

"The band," she whispered. "The success we had; Marcus - no, Draco and me. Was that all just so much window dressing? We had gigs, recording contacts, a chart hit. That band was going all the way. So what happens to me now?"

Arthur drew a deep breath.

"Ginny, your success was entirely due to your own hard work and talent," he told her firmly. "You didn't want to be part of a band in the first place because you've always worked as a solo artiste, yes? Well, now you've had such intense media exposure, you can capitalise on that to further your solo career. You haven't lost anything, Gin, quite the reverse."

"But - Octavia...?"

"There are other agents. We're finding you one as we speak!"

Ginny's chin lifted sharply. The shadows around her eyes seemed to have intensified - or had her face become impossibly paler?

"Marcus..."

"Never existed." Arthur patted her hand gently, soothingly. Ginny stared at him, and then hugged herself, rocking quite violently now.

"But there's no time!" she protested, her eyes stricken. "Two years, he told me. Just two years, then St. Mungo's. That's all I've got left!"

She stood up suddenly, her eyes wild and frightened, the pupils so dilated as to be almost black. Puzzled, Arthur stared at his daughter, his eyebrows drawing together in a worried frown. He pursed his lips and frowned.

"Ginny," he said, decisively, "I'm going to recommend that you visit one of our Healers to be checked over."

Face rigid with concern, Arthur tapped a small messageglobe with his wand and snapped crisply:

"Infirmary please. I need to speak to..."

He never finished the sentence.

Moving with a nimbleness that belied his middle age, Arthur darted around his desk barely in time to catch his daughter before she collapsed to the floor.

"Infirmary; emergency, please," he continued calmly, inwardly horrified by how thin Ginny was under her loose clothes; how easily he swung her insubstantial weight into his arms. Arthur scrabbled in a drawer for his wand, paused briefly to concentrate and abruptly their two figures winked out.

~oOo~

Harry paced around the corridor, hunger roiling his stomach, and wished for the hundredth time that Arthur would hurry up. He looked up sharply as the office door opened. Arthur poked his head around the frame, gesturing for Harry to come in. Finding the office empty, Harry looked back at Arthur, puzzled.

"Sit down, Harry."

Arthur motioned towards a chair and obediently Harry sat down. Arthur steepled his fingers, wondering how to begin.

"Harry, I have transferred Ginny to the infirmary for a once over, "he began at last. "I understand she hasn't yet seen anyone medically trained."

Harry started then stared blankly at Arthur.

"The infirmary?" he asked, frowning. "Why? What's wrong with her?"

"I believe she is suffering from delayed shock," Arthur told him bluntly. "I'm also not totally convinced that she escaped from Draco Malfoy's clutches without harm, but I could be wrong about that."

The blood drained from Harry's face. He looked quite ill.

"Oh, Merlin!" he muttered. "What have I done?"

"Absolutely nothing that you need blame yourself for, Harry!" Arthur's tone was crisp and authoritative. "The last thing she needs at the moment is for you to wallow around in a haze of guilt and self-loathing. She has had a shocking experience, it's very recent and the wounds are still open. You seem to have weathered your experiences with Miss Valentin in a rather more robust fashion, although it might not be a bad idea for you to see the Healers on your own account."

"I'm fine," Harry protested, waving the idea away like an irritating insect.

"You're sure?" Arthur fixed him with a wary eye. "You'd better be very sure, Harry. My guess is that Ginny's going to need a lot of strength and support over the next few months."

Arthur paused to listen to his messageglobe, which was flashing with a private communication from the infirmary. Harry seethed at only being able to hear one side of the conversation, but contented himself by demanding to know the latest as soon as Arthur had finished his conversation.

"As I thought - delayed shock," he said briefly. "The Medics have given her a healing potion and performed some charmwork that should help her, but the trauma will take time to heal fully."

Arthur paused, frowning and shaking his head slightly.

"Harry," he began, uncertainly, "Ginny mentioned something about two years. <> were her exact words. Have you any idea what that might mean?"

Harry shook his head, his eyes showing his complete bafflement.

"Two years?" he said. "Two years for what? And who told her? Malfoy? Has that miserable piece of trash put some kind of - curse on her? In addition to the Compulsion, I mean?"

"I don't know," Arthur replied, "but I've got the Healers going over her with a fine-toothed comb. If there's anything there that shouldn't be, they'll find it."

Arthur sighed and leaned his head in his hands.

"Growing up amongst so many brothers has given my daughter the hide of a dragon and the endurance of a troll," he began, "but her faith in her own judgment and strength were never very strong. I am in no way blaming you for this, Harry, but not a peaceful day has gone by for Ginny since you returned from America."

Harry lowered his eyes to the floor in silence.

"She has been badly let down," Arthur continued. "Unavoidably, of course, but nevertheless, her trust has been broken. I know my daughter, Harry; she won't bounce back from this easily.

"The potion the Healers gave her will make the event seem like it happened a little while ago, say, a fortnight. The edges of the horror will have been blunted. But while this is a good thing in the short term, you must remember, Harry that it didn't happen a fortnight ago. It happened two days ago, and eventually she will have to face up to it."

Harry raised his head, his face resolute, and nodded, his jaw clenched with tension.

"When can I take her home?" he asked. Arthur nodded approvingly.

"In a couple of hours," he replied. "She's sleeping at present. She'll wake shortly and the medics will check her over again. Go and have some lunch, Harry, then visit the infirmary to see how she's doing."

Harry paused in the act of rising from his seat.

"Uh, do you think they would mind if I had something sent down to her room?" he enquired. "I'd prefer to stay with her while she sleeps. I'd - rather not leave her alone. Especially now."

Arthur looked at him. Harry returned his gaze levelly. After a long pause, the older man nodded slowly.

"I don't see why not," Arthur said, eventually. Swiftly, Harry left the room in the direction of the infirmary.

~oOo~

Ron and Hermione strolled hand in hand down the long corridor towards the stairs. Of all the major players in this drama, thought Lee Jordan as he watched them go, Ron seemed to have fared the best, having arrived home uninjured with his mind untampered with, to take up life with his beloved wife where they had left off several weeks ago. To an outsider, their happiness might have seemed frivolous, but Lee knew them both well enough to realise that despite their very real concern for their friends, neither Ron nor Hermione were able to temper the intense joy they felt at being reunited once again.

And nor should they, he remarked silently, sliding his palmtop computer out of an inner pocket to check his emails. Listlessly, Lee trailed down the corridor after Fred and George, only half-aware of their fierce argument over the merits of pizza against pumpkin pasties for lunch. Lee felt rather than heard someone fall into step beside him and looked up to see Ellen smiling tentatively.

"Ah, hello," she said.

He nodded politely, stepping aside to make room for her to pass him. She stayed put, matching his pace.

"So - how are things?" she asked. Lee shrugged.

"So-so," he replied. "At least we're all more or less in one piece."

Ellen nodded.

"I heard you saved Sirius Black's life," she remarked conversationally.

Lee winced.

"Where did you get that from?" he demanded.

Ellen's smile was at once enigmatic and ruefuler HH. Lee nodded.

"Oh, Fred, of course," he said, answering his own question.

Neither seemed to know quite what to say. Ellen took a breath.

"Lee," she began, just as her companion opened his mouth to speak. They both stopped walking. Lee gestured awkwardly.

"Go ahead," he told her politely.

Ellen shook her head.

"No, I'm sorry," she replied humbly. "I interrupted you."

"Please." Lee fixed wide, brown eyes on her face. Ellen felt her cheeks warm. She looked away.

"All right," she muttered reluctantly. With an effort, she squared her shoulders and looked him straight in the face.

"Lee, I'm really sorry I had to lie to you," she began. "Well, I didn't exactly lie, I was just - economical with the truth."

Smiling faintly, Lee signed off and closed his small computer, slipping it into his breast pocket.

"Why don't you give me the whole story?" he suggested, not quite meeting her eyes. Ellen paused.

"It - might take some time," she warned, looking up at him seriously through smoky brown lashes. Lee nodded slowly, pursing his lips.

"That's okay," he said looking straight at her, brown eyes meeting blue. "I'm a good listener. Tell it to me over lunch?"

Ellen's heart gave a painful thud and an expression of pleased surprise flashed across her face.

"You mean it?" she squeaked.

In answer, Lee held out his hand; Ellen needed no further bidding. A wave of relieved happiness washed over Lee as she slid her fingers into his - preparatory to ducking out of a side door, of course, before Fred and George could think to make fun of them.

~oOo~

"It's bloody-well happened again, hasn't it?"

Oliver was swearing and banging saucepans in the kitchen when Fred and George finally got back from the Ministry.

"A very good evening to you, Oliver!" responded Fred cheerfully, striding into the kitchen. "And may I say how very well you are looking, despite your current level of stress?"

George sank gratefully into a kitchen chair; he still tired very easily. Fred descended upon a cupboard, extracting a number of glasses, and proceeded to inspect the communal wine rack. He shook his head in disgust.

"This will never do," he announced. "I'll just take a little trip to the local off-licence to stock up, shall I? We might have a few extra for dinner. Make us a decent cup of coffee will you, Oliver? The Ministry brew we've been drinking all day has dissolved my stomach lining."

Oliver turned to stare at Fred with his mouth open as his friend walked jauntily back into the hall. He looked at George who shrugged innocently. Oliver closed his mouth and frowned.

"I get back home after a grinding week in Munich," he began, between his teeth, "to find the place deserted, no clue whatsoever as to where you all are. Eventually Hermione remembers that I'm coming home this week and I might just be a teensy bit worried. By this time, I'm climbing the walls, making panic phone calls to the Ministry and frightening the daylights out of your mum, George."

"Oh, I doubt it, Oliver," replied George airily. "Mum's had so much to put up with from all of us over the years, including Dad, that it would take a national disaster to frighten her. She's a lot tougher than she looks."

"She needs to be!" replied Oliver feelingly, throwing onions into a casserole dish.

George obligingly waved his wand at the kettle, at the same time summoning the cafetiére and the jar of ground coffee. Oliver, deciding that it was easier in his current state of mind to enchant the Muggle can-opener than to design a charm to pierce steel, waved his wand at several tins containing tomatoes and red kidney beans.

"Anyway, once Hermione has calmed me down," he continued, "the gist of her explanation is that the residents of this house have, without any prior warning, been plunged into yet another hair-raisingly exciting adventure, and guess what? Oliver missed it - again!"

Oliver was so annoyed that the wooden spoon he spelled to stir the minced beef into the onions moved at twice the recommended speed, spraying the kitchen with oil. Wiping his splashed face, he calmed down slightly.

"How many did Fred say were coming to supper?" he demanded in more subdued tones. George shrugged, waving his wand negligently to clean up the mess.

"He didn't," he replied, "but I guess nine for certain - maybe ten, if Lee really did sneak off with who we think he snuck off with for lunch!"

"Ellen, I suppose."

George laughed uproariously at Oliver's chagrined tone.

"Sore loser, Oliver," he told him. "Move quicker next time."

"In my dreams, Weasley," his friend responded in morose tones, shaking chilli powder and cumin into the casserole. "In my dreams."

In the end, no one made any coffee because Fred arrived back from the off-licence, weighed down with a large collection of bottles at about the same time Harry descended from the West Wing.

"Hi," said Fred, depositing his box on the kitchen table and straightening up with a quick grin. Harry returned the smile, aiming his wand at kettle, teapot and tea caddy.

"How long have you been home?" Fred asked easily. Harry looked at his watch.

"A couple of hours," he replied. "Ginny's still sleeping, but the medics assured me that she would be considerably more herself when she wakes later. Mercifully, they found no trace of anything - unpleasant in her system. They gave her a clean bill of health, thank Merlin."

"That's very good news indeed," replied Fred with feeling. "And yourself?"

"Me?" Harry looked surprised. "Oh, I'm okay. Nothing that a few good nights' sleep won't cure."

Fred took in Harry's dishevelled appearance and haggard face and drew his own conclusions.

"Has she told you what happened to her?" he asked. Harry nodded.

"Pretty much," he replied with a grimace of distaste. "I mean, she's not exactly been forthcoming with details, but I can pretty much fill in the blanks myself."

Harry's face suddenly looked old and tired. Fred narrowed his eyes slightly, but forbore to comment. Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

"Somehow it's been much easier for me to come to terms with Katia Valentin than it has for Ginny to cope with what Malfoy did to her," he said ruefully.

"Well, of course it has," replied Fred in a no-nonsense manner. He selected a bottle from the box and held up a glass with an interrogative expression. Harry shook his head. Fred shrugged and put the bottle on the kitchen table.

"You were in an inherently dangerous situation," he continued, casting about for a corkscrew, "and the woman was unquestionably alluring - so Ron tells me - with or without the Veela magic. But there's a difference between an attempted seduction by a complete stranger, and a cold-hearted, deliberate emotional assault by someone you were beginning to trust. And let's face it, Harry - Malfoy? With all the history we had with him at Hogwarts? That can't have been pleasant."

"I know, I know." Harry hung his head. He sighed.

"I just hope she can forget about him, that's all," he said quietly. Fred laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"She's tough," he said simply. "She'll cope."

Harry nodded, picking up his freshly poured cup of tea and making for the stairs.

"I'll sit with her until she wakes," he replied. "I only came down to make sure you knew we were here. I'll see you later on this evening, okay?"

Fred nodded.

"Okay, Harry," he replied. "We'll set places for you at dinner. Oliver's cooking so at least it'll be edible."

He pulled the cork from his chosen bottle with a resounding pop, upending the contents into glasses for Oliver and George.

~oOo~

Upstairs, Harry entered his bedroom quietly and sat down in the chair he had drawn up near to his bed. Ginny was still asleep, showing no signs of waking imminently. Harry smoothed her hair away from her forehead, listing to her soft breathing, noting that her temperature was normal. He sighed, admitting to himself that he had no reason to assume she was fevered: he just wanted to touch her to make sure she was here, alive, with him.

The horrified disbelief Harry had experienced, when he fully understood the very real danger to which Ginny had been exposed, totally eclipsed his alarm over his own perilous situation. He had been right all along, he raged: anyone he was close to suffered or died. He must leave, now - today. Go back to LA, resume his teaching at the University and forget about his friends in London. If he never returned, perhaps the Dark Side would leave them alone. Leave Ginny alone.

"And you think that'll work, do you?"

Hermione, flawlessly logical as usual, sat half reclining on the kitchen sofa listening to Harry rant as he strode restlessly backwards and forwards over the stone-flagged floor.

Harry halted for a moment and turned to her, raking stiff fingers through his hair.

"It's the only thing I can think of," he replied in desperation. "Damage limitation - it's all that's left to me now. This time we were lucky. We can't depend on that luck lasting. Next time..."

Harry trailed off, shaking his head speechlessly and resumed his pacing. Hermione sat up.

"Damage limitation - is that what you call it?" she demanded curtly. "I call it running away."

"Of course I'm running away!" Harry burst out, turning on her in bitter anger. "What else can I do? I should never have come home - never! This is all my own stupid fault. I should have known better than to think that once Voldemort was neutralised, we could all ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after. It was never going to be that way, no matter how much I wanted it. I'm a marked man and I may as well learn to live with it."

Harry paused for breath, then rounded on Hermione again.

"Accuse me of cowardice if you must," he raged, "but you know only too well that the only reason you're alive today - and Ron, and Fred and George, and, Merlin help me, Ginny too - is because four years ago I ran away! What other choice do I have now but to keep on running?"

"You can face up to it!"

Hermione rose from the sofa in one fluid, unhurried motion. In her high heels, she stood almost eye-to-eye with Harry.

"It's too late for contingency measures now," she told him firmly. "Unfortunately, the Dark Side is only too well aware of the strength of your feelings for Ginny. You'll never manage to convince them of your indifference in a million years. And besides, what about this mind-bonding thing you have between you? They've already tried to take either one of you out to prevent you consolidating it - whatever that means. Frankly, I'm at a loss, Harry: I've found nothing about "bonding" or "melding" in any of the relevant texts, so I have no idea why the Dark Side find the possibility so alarming.

"But all that aside," she continued, impatiently, "don't you see that if you desert Ginny now, you sign her death warrant?"

Harry stared wildly at Hermione with wide, horrified eyes, then he rounded on her, his face twisting in rage. Hermione glared straight back at him without flinching, giving him just as good as she got. Harry's anger was so intense that she unconsciously steeled herself for a blow, tensing her muscles, straightening her spine in reflex action. Despite herself, Hermione screwed her eyes shut in anticipation.

Nothing happened. Harry let out an explosive pent-up breath and all the fight suddenly drained out of him. He collapsed like a string puppet on the sofa, his face in his hands.

Hermione opened her eyes cautiously and exhaled in relief, unaware until that moment that she had been holding her breath. Her head spun slightly: she reached for the arm of the sofa to steady herself.

"I'm sorry, Hermione," Harry whispered contritely. "I didn't mean to get so angry. I...I would never harm you - you must know that."

"Of course I do," Hermione responded, sinking gratefully onto the sofa beside him. She reached out a tentative hand to smooth his messy hair out of his eyes. He managed a small smile.

"You're right of course," Harry said in calmer tones. He caught her hand in his, pressing the fingers gently in acknowledgement before releasing it.

"I'm always right, Harry, you know that," Hermione responded, her acerbic words belied by the gentleness of her smile.

The only thing Harry could do now, Hermione told him, was to use his magical strength to protect Ginny, not abandon her when she was at her most vulnerable. They also needed to investigate this strange Bond that had so excited the Dark side. They must exploit it; work out what it meant and what it could do. Harry had to face up to the fact that he wasn't alone in this. Someone else was inescapably involved with him now - and with all the consequences that entailed.

Harry's mouth quirked into a humourless smile.

"So what you're saying is that Ginny and I are stuck with each other now, whether we like it or not," he replied. "Is that it?"

Surprise made Hermione miss a beat. She was hard pressed to keep her face carefully expressionless.

"Stuck with each other?" she echoed with careful politeness. "I'm not sure I fully understand you, Harry."

Harry shook his head, rising from the sofa to begin his pacing once again.

"I mean, there's no choice now, is there?" he said, avoiding her eyes. "Whatever we want, we can't escape from something like this. Until the Dark Side is destroyed or disabled so badly they can't fight back any more, Ginny is chained to me for life. Even should we manage to destroy them, there's still this bond thing holding us together, whether we want it or not."

Throughout her short life, Hermione Granger would willingly admit that she had often been subject to the emotion of surprise. The fact that she was also no stranger to astonishment she would confess with somewhat more reluctance, but until now, Hermione would have suffered the privations of Azkaban Prison before admitting to having ever been struck dumb with incredulity. Consequently, her own reaction to Harry's bitter words was, to her, totally inadequate: she stared at him for several moments, her jaw hanging loose in bewilderment. When she finally rediscovered the mechanism of speech, her words were unplanned and disjointed.

"Harry, I thought... I mean, you seemed as though you were - pretty much there for the duration, you and Ginny." Hermione bit her lip. "I don't... you were... Oh, Harry, I'm really not making much sense here."

Hermione paused for a moment and then with an effort, gathered her scattered wits.

"Harry," Hermione began again urgently. "If I'm wrong - if you and Ginny aren't together..."

She trailed off as Harry stilled her tongue with a silencing squeeze to her wrist.

"Hermione," he began in a strangled tone, then paused staring at the floor.

How could Harry tell Hermione that, despite her flawless logic, he was certain as the sun would rise tomorrow morning in the east that Ginny would leave him? Even if, by luck, talent or protection, she was not slaughtered by the Dark side, he knew in his own heart that it was only a matter of time. Sooner or later, as sure as fate, she would give up on him, worn down by the continual danger and the lack of security that an alliance with Harry Potter would inevitably bring. Even the most durable, the strongest and the most ardent love would not, indeed could not, survive the kind of existence the Dark Side had in store for Ginny.

Harry bowed his head in sheer weariness, leaning his elbows on his knees, his forehead in his hands.

"It's - not that simple," he muttered.

Hermione made no reply. When, prompted by her silence, Harry dared to look up at her, his heart sank at the steel in her eyes. Hermione drew a shaking breath then compressed her lips into a thin line.

"Harry," she began in a low, meaningful voice. "If you leave this place, if you desert Ginny now, I will track you down. Wherever you hide, I will find you; whatever hole you choose to crawl into, I will dig you out, and when I do finally run you to earth, I will personally make you wish you had never been born!"

Harry stared in mute horror, unable to find his voice. Hermione rose from the sofa. Her grave expression was tinged with puzzlement. She shook her head in perplexity.

"I don't know what's gone wrong with you, Harry," she said. "Just make sure you do what's right by Ginny or you'll have me to answer to. That's all."

She turned as if to leave, but Harry caught her wrist and held it fast.

"It - it's not what you think," he croaked with difficulty. Hermione raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Indeed?" she replied with dignity. "Then, Harry, perhaps you had better convince me otherwise."

~oOo~

Harry sighed and lowered his head. What followed had been one of the most humiliating moments of his life. Unused to expressing his feelings in speech at the best of times, he found it almost impossible to describe something he could barely articulate inside his own head to someone already predisposed to disbelieve him. His superstitious shying away from any kind of analysis of his relationship with Ginny, bordered on paranoia. His unwillingness to even think of what she might mean to him, never mind say it out loud, was enough to send him scuttling back to LA for fear of bringing the whole damn house of cards down on his head, There was no way - no way on earth he could discuss it aloud with Hermione, let alone bare his soul, as she seemed to be demanding.

The few stumbling disjointed mutterings Harry managed were sufficient to avert disaster - just. Hermione had stopped short of declaring outright war, but neither had she been entirely reassured. Harry was miserably aware that whatever the final outcome, their friendship had changed irrevocably.

Harry gritted his teeth, trying to choke back the mortification of that memory. To be at odds with one of his oldest and closest friends was very painful to Harry. The situation with Hermione had to be made right and soon, but he was blessed if he knew how. He closed his eyes in anguish, his hand tightening involuntarily around Ginny's fingers. The sleeping girl sighed and shifted, turning over as her slumber was briefly disturbed. Hastily, Harry released his grip and reached out to smooth her hair away from her eyes. His hand lingered gently over her forehead, his troubled eyes searching the sleeping face for any sign of distress.

She is so fragile, he thought helplessly. There was nothing like a determined effort to kill you, Harry mused bitterly, to make one miserably aware of what a brittle bag of liquids a human body truly is. But the magic is strong within her, argued that part of Harry's brain unaffected by his current paralysis. You are not the only one who has a destiny.

Harry pulled himself together. Throwing aside his miasma of despair, he began to assess the situation with brutal honesty. If he, Harry Potter, had ignored Hermione's summons and simply stayed in LA, then he would never have exposed himself or Ginny to the danger they now faced. However, Voldemort would have returned to their plane through his possession of Fred's body, and even now he would be busily conquering the world. The curious bonding between Harry and Ginny had tipped the balance of that conflict in their favour at the very last gasp.

It cannot be helped, Harry muttered, absently stroking Ginny's hair. We cannot escape the consequences of our actions. Oh, Ginny, I'm so sorry! I would rather cut off my right hand than bring such evil down on my family. But the damage has already been done and it cannot be turned aside. I will do what is right. I have not come this far to forsake you now.

"If, by my life, I can protect you," he muttered to the unconscious Ginny, "I will do it, as well as I can, for as long as I can, to the utmost of my strength. Even when love has gone, eroded away by destiny; even when we no longer share the same continent, let alone the same bed; even when you come to hate me for the price of your love, I will still be there for you."

Harry would gladly give up his life to ensure Ginny's safety; he knew that now. But his death would accomplish nothing. To protect her, Harry needed to accept that he was no longer alone; to acknowledge the duality of his existence, with all that entailed.

No, it wasn't necessary for him to die for her. She needed him to live for her.

A change in Ginny's breathing pattern drew Harry back from his musings. She stirred, making the small, sleepy noises that had become all too familiar to him in such a short time. She opened her eyes, focussed on his face and smiled.

"Hi," she said, huskily. He smiled and smoothed her hair back from her face.

"Hi yourself."

He caught her hand and kissed the palm, green eyes gazing mutely into hers. Much of her sleepiness immediately dissolved into apprehension.

"I'm sorry..." she began helplessly. He reached out to place a finger on her lips.

"Shhh," he told her. "You've had a bad experience. If I hadn't left you, it wouldn't have happened."

Her eyes widened.

"But Malfoy..."

"None of it was your fault, Ginny."

To prevent any further argument, Harry leaned forward and kissed her full on the lips. Still too sleepy to protest, Ginny relaxed into the kiss and wound her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. With a muffled exclamation, he overbalanced and fell into the soft downy quilt alongside her. Smoothing her hair away from her face, Harry smiled down at her.

"I've missed you," he told her, sincerely. Ginny nodded.

"I've missed you too," she replied. "Especially this."

He tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder and sighed, relishing a few moments of peace and stillness.

"Oliver's cooking," Harry remarked after a long silence. With a sigh, he rose from the bed and stretched mightily, feeling his shoulders crack.

"Are you up to joining the gang for dinner, or do you want me to bring us up a tray?" he continued, as he walked round the bedroom collecting items of fresh clothing to replace his creased and dirty attire.

Ginny considered, and then sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Mmm, so far so good," she muttered to herself, standing up to test her balance. Not bad. She turned to look at Harry.

"I think I'll go for a quick shower to freshen up, then I'll come down with you. Is that okay?" she finished anxiously. Harry looked surprised, then smiled.

"Yes, that's fine," he replied. "The medics said you could get up any time you felt like it. The treatment doesn't have any side-effects to speak of, but you do need to take it gently."

Wrapping her dressing gown around her slender body, Ginny smiled gently and padded away to her own bathroom.

"You've lost weight," Harry remarked, too quietly for her to hear. He shook his head and turned to his own tasks.

~oOo~

By the time Harry and Ginny descended the stairs, Oliver's chilli con carne was emitting a delicious fragrance, driving everyone mad with hunger. Ron and Hermione had already arrived and were laughing together with George over glasses of good red wine. A murmur of approval met Ginny's entrance into the kitchen, and she coped admirably with their careful treatment of her until George tried to insist she sat down on the sofa.

"Oh, for goodness sake, I'm scarcely an invalid," she protested in a slightly waspish tone. "The Medics have pronounced me fit in body, so if I want to stand up, I will!"

This prompted a good deal of relieved laughter, only diverted by the rather cautious and embarrassed arrival of Lee and Ellen. They were still holding hands, trying to look as though they were really somewhere else entirely.

"Lee!" exclaimed Fred, advancing on his friend with a beaming smile. Lee winced visibly, which only served to crank Fred's grin up a further notch.

"Lee, I couldn't be more delighted!" he began, handing the couple a glass each, "Wonderful to see you're finally abandoning your vow of celibacy!"

"Fred!" Lee hissed, kicking him discreetly in the shins and missing.

"Sorry, Lee?" Fred turned a mock-concerned look on him. "Did I miss something?"

Ellen turned to her friend and sometime professional colleague with a bright smile.

"Fred, you've been missing something since day one," she began. "The Ministry calls it diplomacy, I believe. Or maybe just your sense of humour?"

Fred's lips twitched.

"Is this the way you address your superior?" he asked mildly.

Ellen's smile widened and she shook her head.

"My superior what?" she retorted. "I don't recall ever signing a contract with the Ministry, and you certainly aren't my superior in the world of finance - Merlin be praised for small mercies."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fred seemed genuinely puzzled.

Ellen shrugged.

"Merely that if you were," she replied promptly, "my company'd be bankrupt inside a month."

Fred turned to the others then back to Lee.

"You can easily see why we never dated, can't you?" he said ruefully, spreading his hands wide. Ellen laughed.

"Idiot!" she told him, kissing his cheek lightly. "Now, let's get on with some serious relaxation!"

Pausing to grasp Lee's hand once again, she drew him into the knot of people around the fireplace.

Harry stood leaning against the hearth, his hand resting lightly on Ginny's shoulder. Neither spoke, but they watched the others talking and laughing together and smiled at each other occasionally. It really doesn't get any better than this, Harry thought, feeling the warmth of Ginny's body under his hand, enjoying the banter and conversation between his closest friends.

Ginny herself was inwardly rather surprised at her own self-control. Something to do with the treatment, I expect, she mused, quietly drinking in the mood, allowing herself to relax into the cushion of security called Home. Part of her mind refused to settle, warning her, reminding her that she had unfinished issues with the events of the past few days, but it was a small part, easily damped down by her unaccustomed passivity.

Just you wait, it warned. As soon as this treatment wears off, I'll be there. You know you can't just forget about what happened. And what's going to happen in the future. You'll have to face the truth sometime.

Abruptly, the roar of the doorknocker interrupted her thoughts - evidently the caller did not know the password. Fred darted into the hall, totally oblivious to the fact that he was merely a guest and no longer lived in Harry's House, and came back grinning from ear to ear with a very healthy and cheerful-looking Sirius! Harry leaped to his feet, enveloping his godfather in a bear hug.

"I thought you were going straight back to Mexico!" he cried, happily. Sirius shook his head and passed George a plastic bag that clinked pleasantly.

"I was originally," he admitted, "but I decided I couldn't pass up the opportunity to see your house and have dinner with all of you. Fred and George extended the invitation, and I really didn't have to be asked twice. Okay if I leave my broomstick in the hall cupboard?"

Harry simply nodded, feeling that if he smiled much wider his face would split. Who said it couldn't get any better? It just had.

~oOo~

Oliver's chilli had been served, pronounced superb and promptly demolished, along with a mountain of fluffy white rice, a huge green salad and several garlic baguettes. Copious quantities of wine had been consumed, fruit and cheese were laid out on the table and Lee's collection of jazz CDs crammed into the stacker system, set on repeat. The conversation had reached that quiet, leisurely stage when the soporific effects of good food, wine and company are just beginning to take their toll, although the occasional burst of laughter still broke through.

Hermione wandered into the kitchen, stopping to gaze out of the window into the garden. From here it was just possible to make out an outline against the sky: the strange temple that had been the focus of their adventures over the summer. She sighed: it seemed such a long time ago. So much had happened in such a short space of time that she barely had time to come to terms with the changes in her own life. Now it was September, nearing October, and the leaves were falling red and gold from the beech trees in the garden of Harry's house, the nights were drawing in and it would soon be pleasant to have a wood fire in the kitchen grate. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and looked up with a smile, knowing whom it would be. Ron slid his arms around her waist and leaned his chin on her shoulder.

"Thinking, 'Mione?" he asked casually. She wrinkled her nose at him.

"Aren't I always?"

He chuckled, but did not reply, merely tightening his grip. They were silent for a long while, and then Ron gave a sigh.

"You know," he began, "it really brings things home to you when people you love are in danger."

Hermione turned to face him.

"Were you really worried then? Out there in Mexico, I mean?" she asked.

He nodded gravely.

"It was sheer luck and a fair wind that got us out of that situation alive," he confided, "I've been doing a little digging, 'Mione. Katia, whatever else she is, is a pretty powerful adversary. It was her overconfidence that did for her in the end, not any lack of strength or ruthlessness. I might never have seen the light of day again, and Harry could have been enslaved for good."

Hermione shivered involuntarily and a slight frown creased her face, but she did not interrupt.

"And Ginny." Ron raked a hand through his hair. "She was probably in more danger even than we were, and no one knew. She had nobody to advise or protect her. I know about that enchantment, 'Mione, and it makes my blood boil that Draco Malfoy could even think about using it on her."

"Ron." Hermione placed gentle hands on his shoulders. "It's over. We're safe now and we'll cope with any fallout. And you're home with me once again, that's all that matters."

Her eyes were warm, as were her lips.

"Practical common sense," Ron murmured against her mouth. "One of the reasons I love you so very much."

Hermione laughed and snuggled her head into his shoulder.

"And I love you too," she replied, breaking free and taking his hand, "as you very well know. Come on: let's get some cheese before it all disappears."

Fred, George, Sirius, Ginny and Harry occupied the two sofas, while Lee and Ellen shared one of the armchairs. They were engaged in lively discussion about the future of the Ministry of Magic after Cornelius Fudge as Ron and Hermione entered the room. Sirius could scarcely contain his delight at Fred's account of the showdown with Tantalus Brown.

"He blocked me on every angle," Sirius complained loudly in exasperation. "I kept appealing for backup, he kept patronising or ignoring me. He's got some kind of fixation about security and not alerting the Dark Side by too much activity. I'm inclined to believe he's stupid rather than evil, but he certainly served the Dark Side's purposes admirably, whichever he is."

Sirius suddenly slapped his knees with the palms of his hands and rose to his feet.

"Sorry to break up the party, people, but I really have to make tracks," he said reluctantly, as though speaking of a taxi ride to Pimlico rather than a journey to the other side of the world.

"Are you Apparating or Porting?" asked Harry, also rising.

"Porting," replied Sirius, "but I have to take a broomstick ride to a station as I seem to have left my Key at home!"

He smiled and said his farewells to the others, shaking hands and hugging the men, and kissing Hermione and Ginny. He held Ginny rather longer than the others and looked deeply into her eyes before bidding her farewell. Harry accompanied him to the front door, fetching his broomstick from the hall cupboard.

"Well, Harry," Sirius said at last, "don't forget to write, and do drop in if you happen to be doing any excavating or digging anywhere in Mexico."

Harry smiled, holding up his hands in surrender.

"Oh, no!" he said, shaking his head vehemently. "I've had quite enough experience of Mexican rainforest to last me for some time yet, I can tell you!"

Sirius laughed and nodded.

"I understand," he replied, "but it has to be said that London doesn't seem to be much safer in the long run."

"Yes, I appreciate that." Harry's smile lost some of its brightness. "Frankly, if we'd listened to Fred - if Fred had listened to himself! - we could have saved Ginny a lot of heartache."

"True," Sirius nodded, then frowned. "But how did Fred know there was something amiss? What tipped him off about the Torrence character?"

Harry shrugged, spreading his arms expansively.

"How does Fred know what he knows?" he replied lightly. "He calls it instinct, but if I didn't know better, I'd say his well-known scorn for the discipline of Divination is beginning to catch up with him!"

Sirius grinned again then his face became serious.

"Harry," he began awkwardly, "you will - look after Ginny, won't you? I mean, you won't give way to coercion from the Ministry to exploit her in any way, will you?"

Harry looked shocked.

"Do you really think I would allow that to happen?" he demanded. Sirius smiled grimly.

"No, Harry," he replied, "I don't mean just as an instrument to entrap Malfoy, although you may have to put up some resistance to that idea too. No, I meant about this Mind-Bond."

He paused to stroke his unshaven chin thoughtfully.

"You know, you're going to come under a lot of pressure to develop this thing as a defensive, or even offensive, weapon - and soon," he continued, "And you have to ask yourself - is it the right thing to do? Ginny's had a life-shattering experience. She needs her confidence building again, slowly, bit by bit. I've been talking to Arthur. She's damaged, Harry, and it will take time and patience to get her back to the Ginny we all know and love. You'll have to decide whether it's the right time to start involving her with things neither of you understand. Potentially dangerous things."

Harry stared into Sirius's face and pursed his lips thoughtfully.

"I realise all of that," he replied quietly, "but I also have to consider the consequences of not exploring the Mind Bond. We know so little about such things that trying to ignore what's happening between us - burying our heads in the sand, if you like - might just be the wrong decision in the long run. We really don't know."

Harry shook his head ruefully.

"This is ultimately all down to me," he sighed, "My greed, my ambition, and my stupid thirst for knowledge. I should never have left her unprotected."

Sirius shook his head.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, Harry," he protested. "We were all at fault for failing to safeguard you both. If it hadn't been for Ron, the whole damn house of cards would have fallen on our heads."

The two men shared a moment of silence then Harry asked a question that had been bothering him for a while.

"Sirius," he began, "about Katia."

His godfather stiffened slightly.

"What about her?" Sirius minutely examined the twigs of his broomstick, adjusting one or two of them slightly.

"Well, you said you'd known her a long time," Harry continued, noticing the way his godfather's eyes had darkened at the mention of her name. "I wondered, well, how."

Sirius sighed and put down his broomstick.

"It's a long story, Harry," he replied ruefully, "and an unpleasant one at that. I'd - I'd really rather not go into it right now." He gave a grim smile.

"Katia and I go way, way back," he continued, "and it's not always comfortable to remember. In all honesty, in view of her past record, I'm surprised I've lived to tell the tale - but I digress. I guess now I know what she truly is, if we ever meet again, we'll either kill each other - or die in the attempt."

Sirius was silent for a moment staring into space. Harry shivered suddenly and rubbed at his arms where the hairs were standing on end.

"Someone walking over my grave," he muttered inconsequentially to his godfather's enquiring look.

"Ill-mannered bugger!" retorted Sirius cheerfully. He smiled his famous, knock 'em dead grin and clouted Harry on the shoulder.

"I'll tell you about it over a few beers sometime," he said. "Hey, perhaps that'll persuade you to make a trip to Merida, huh?"

Harry smiled.

"Maybe, Sirius."

The two men shared a hug, slapping each others' backs, then Sirius picked up his broomstick and went out on to the drive.

"Cheers, Harry," he said, giving a final salute before kicking off from the ground. "Make sure you look after Ginny, won't you?"

It was a fine night, and Harry watched the starlit sky for a long time after Sirius had disappeared from view.

~oOo~

Much later, another person watched the night sky, silent and still as the very air she breathed. Ginny shivered in the night breeze as she stood on Harry's balcony, staring at the heavens, trying to find some kind of balance in their cold impersonal brightness. She turned back into the bedroom and watched Harry sleep, bathed in the light of the full moon. He truly was beautiful: tumbling dark hair, sweeping black eyelashes and soft, sensuous mouth, now slack-jawed in sleep. His skin was pale silver, dappled with moonlight, muscles moving under its surface as he stirred, turning over in his slumber.

Harry, she said silently. He was dreaming, she could tell. She wondered whether, given time, she would have been able to join with him, even in sleep; to walk with him in his dreams. Restlessly, she looked back into the sky, wrapping her arms around her chest, hugging herself against the chill air and the future.

Two years, her mind told her dispassionately. Two years, then madness.

The evening had been warm, safe and full of laughter. She had taken part as much as she was able, but periods of abstraction would still intrude. Harry tried hard not to notice, but it was an effort for Ginny to keep her attention on any one thing for more than a moment. She sighed. The medics had told her this would likely happen and that it would pass with time.

Two years.

Harry's intentions had been abundantly clear to Ginny in the deliberate way he closed their bedroom door and then leaned against it, his eyes dark. At first, Ginny had fought down rising panic, inevitably reliving Draco's assault on her. Then, to her surprise, a flame of anger ignited inside her. How could she allow Malfoy to defile this - the one stable, secure part of her life? If Malfoy could still win here, in Harry's bedroom, then Ginny might just as well have been enslaved after all.

With that thought, she fell upon Harry, tearing at his clothes, almost devouring him with her intensity. After some initial surprise, Harry's desire more than matched hers, and she knew immediately with out-and-out certainty that it would be over in moments for both of them.

All passion spent, Harry slid effortlessly away from her into unconsciousness, worn and exhausted with worry and injury. Having slept so many hours during the day, Ginny was unable to follow him into oblivion.

Why have I kept this from him?

Silently, she glided over to the dressing table to rummage quietly in her handbag. Finding what she was searching for, she returned to the balcony to examine the object in the light of the moon. It was a single rosebud, still fresh and moist, even without water. She suspected it to be under a Slo-time charm and wondered how much longer it would last. This was the object she had found on her pillow when the Stun hex had worn off, the item she had revealed to Hermione and to no one else, the talisman Draco had left for her. Most unlike him, she thought, in either of his personae, to be sentimental, particularly over a woman who had destroyed a carefully laid master plan, however unwittingly. She studied the flower once again, noting the beauty of its shape. She shrugged: typical of Draco/Marcus to have coloured it totally black.

Why can't I speak of it?

Looking back out into the night, she wondered what had happened to Draco. Whether he had been punished for his failure to entrap her, or whether he had managed to talk his way out of it. She wondered where he was now and who he was with; whether he thought about her at all, or whether he had dismissed her out of hand as soon as he ceased to be Marcus Torrence. She wondered if he too was watching the stars this clear, cold night, and whether she would ever be free of the memories of that almost-time in his bed.

If he had enslaved me, my suffering would even now be ended.

A single tear rolled slowly down her cheek unchecked.

In pain and confusion, she let the recollections wash over her. How she had known him for who and what he was: the boy she had loathed and despised at school, whose father had been responsible for much trouble and misery in her life, who along with his friends had teased and tormented her family until she had wanted to scream at him and hex him into the ground. Now he was all grown up and gorgeous, but still a Dark wizard, still on the Dark side.

And she hadn't cared.

What did it signify that she had been under an enchantment? That didn't change her feelings or her memories. Ginny's shoulders hunched reflexively; she wept silently and in agony.

Two years - then madness.

~oOo~

A little while later, when the moon had sunk low over the horizon, Ginny closed the balcony door, slipping quietly downstairs to make herself a hot drink. Hunched over the simmering kettle, she hugged herself for warmth. The summer was nearly over and the nights were drawing in. Soon autumn would turn the leaves to orange and gold, then blow them away into dust.

Like my life, she thought emptily. So much promise, so little substance. I shall see spring in this house, in this garden, once more. Just once - then I shall die.

Ginny jumped suddenly, startled out of her reflections by a low salutation. She looked up to see Fred padding into the kitchen, barefoot, tousle-haired and yawning.

"What are you doing up at this hour?" she demanded. He shrugged.

"Study sofa's really uncomfortable," he told her. "Lee wouldn't let me use the room adjoining Ellen's. I don't think he trusts me."

The last statement was made in a very aggrieved tone. Despite herself, Ginny gave a small chuckle.

"I daresay he has his reasons," she replied, sounding rather more like her old self. Fred gave her a searching look.

"What about you?"

Once the Bonding process has begun, there's no going back.

Ginny shrugged.

"Oh, I slept too much during the day," she explained, rubbing her temples. "Tea or coffee?"

Fred continued to regard her with gentle enquiry. She dropped her gaze.

"And the memories keep, well, jumping out at me," she admitted.

Torment, then madness. Two years max.

Fred nodded and gently took the kettle from her shaking hand. Silently, he made a pot of tea, for once not using his wand, and poured out two steaming mugs. Handing one to his sister, he gestured to the sofa.

"I don't usually suffer from insomnia," he said quietly, taking a seat at the far end. "In fact, I'm generally a very sound sleeper when I'm off-duty. However, the broken springs in Hermione's sofa aren't the only thing keeping me awake tonight."

Fred shivered; either with cold or with prescience, he was not quite sure. Quickly, he took a sip of hot tea.

"I have a feeling in my bones," he continued, fixing Ginny with a disconcertingly piercing stare. "A gut reaction that tells me something is not right. I don't know how or why, just that something is - wrong, somewhere close to me."

Ginny lowered her eyes, trying not to betray surprise, but Fred's antennae were at their most sensitive. He sighed and gave a gentle, rueful smile, stretching to set his mug on the coffee table

"When I was training," he began, almost out of the air, "I did a study into the effects of Compulsion on victims. Notably Imperius, of course, but also Cruciatus and, indeed, other, more physical methods. Lamentably, there is a great deal of study material to be had in this world."

Fred's mouth set in a grim line.

"There are many conclusions to be drawn from such research," he continued quietly. "Notably that, for the victim, being under any kind of Compulsion is a no-win situation. Take torture, for instance. If the victim resists their persecution to the last - something really quite rare, despite what most people would like to believe - by doing so, they risk permanent mental scarring. Some torture survivors become old before their time; too wise in the darker streets of the mind, perhaps. They suffer all kinds of side-effects including depression, periods of memory loss, and sometimes a kind of emotional paralysis - an inability to relate to those around them, even their families. That is one outcome. Another is retreat. The suffering becomes so great that the victim is forced to take refuge in the depths of his or her own mind. Few find their way back to daylight."

Ginny's head snapped upright, her eyes alight with sudden understanding.

"Neville Longbottom's parents," she whispered. Fred nodded in assent.

"A case in point," he agreed, "and an unusual one. Neville's parents were exceptionally courageous. No one should have to go through what they endured at the hands of the Lestranges. And, tragically, they paid a heavy price."

Fred paused to take a gulp of his tea.

"Then there are those - the vast majority - whose resistance crumbles away," he continued. "It may take years, or minutes, it doesn't matter; the effects are just the same. Something within the soul of the victim breaks along with his or her will to resist. Such people never forgive themselves, particularly if their capitulation is seen as instrumental in the harming of another person."

Fred sighed heavily.

"Okay," he said after a pause. "So, what about those who are threatened with the death or torture of others, strangers or even loved ones, if they do not co-operate? Can the victim claim some kind of absolution from their surrender by the knowledge that others were spared?" Fred shook his head slowly.

"Unfortunately, no," he said quietly, in answer to his own question. "Even between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea, the victim will always blame his or herself for the outcome, however illogical that may seem. Torture victims are scarred for life - they are never the same again."

Fred's bright eyes fixed on Ginny's bowed head.

"Ginny, Draco Malfoy forced you to obey his will," he told her. "He put you under a very sophisticated Compulsion. That in itself is a form of torture."

Slowly, Ginny raised her head. Fred held her eyes in a steady gaze while his words continued, gently and inexorably.

"You didn't go to his bed willingly," Fred went on. "Despite everything your mind is telling you to the contrary, he forced you to submit to him. You did nothing to lead him on; he went to a great deal of trouble to lead you on. There is no way on this earth you could have known in advance either who he was or what he had planned for you. Try to remember those things when the Furies visit you and make it unbearable to remember."

He smiled tenderly at his young sister, his heart breaking at her vulnerability. Ginny's eyes filled with tears.

If he'd taken me, I'd still be alive.

"Fred," she croaked, "I keep reliving it. I keep... Harry..."

Fred gathered her into his arms.

"I know you didn't tell us everything," he began as gently as he could.

Ginny looked up at him with suddenly frightened eyes, shaking her head.

"Harry... I can't tell... he didn't..."

Fred stroked her hair gently.

"Hush," he told her. "I'm not asking you to say anything at all, although it would help you eventually if you could tell Harry."

Two years. How can I tell him that?

"What I'm saying is that not only did Malfoy control your body, he manipulated your emotions too," Fred continued, gently and inexorably. "Nothing of what you felt at that time or any of your physical responses came from you. Please believe me when I tell you this, because it's the truth."

He paused to let that sink in then began again.

"If, however, you find yourself wondering about Malfoy, where he is, what he is doing, picturing what it would have been like to make love with him - forgive me, Ginny, I need to say this to you - then please rest assured that this, too, is a natural reaction." Fred's eyes were wide and full of pity. "There are many examples of torture victims who harbour no resentment against their torturers for the treatment they endured. In fact, many of them care enough to try to protect their tormentors from the consequences of their crimes; even when those crimes are against their own families."

Ginny stared at her brother as though she had never seen him before in her life, then she took a deep shaky breath. Her eyes cleared.

"You're telling me I didn't ask for it, aren't you?" she said in a surprisingly steady voice. Fred nodded, a small frown creasing his forehead.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you," he replied. "Do you believe me?"

Ginny sighed.

"No," she admitted, "but I'm beginning to get a slightly better understanding of what happened to me."

Ginny took a gulp from her mug and grimaced.

"Cold," she muttered. Fred reached for his wand, and then watched in open-mouthed astonishment as his sister aimed her hand at her drink.

"Calesco!" Ginny murmured absently. Steam rose from the surface of the liquid. She picked up the mug and put it to her lips.

"Great Merlin!" whispered Fred. Ginny gave him a quick, humourless smile.

"On the contrary, Fred," she replied dryly. "I doubt even Merlin could throw any light on this."

Fred's eyes snapped open wide. A peculiar expression Ginny had never seen before chased its way across his face.

"This is..." he shook his head. "Warped, unbalanced."

Abruptly, his eyes lost their unfocussed look. He frowned.

"What happened to you, Ginny?" Fred demanded. "What did that vermin do to you?"

Ginny shook her head with a dry, humourless chuckle.

"I promise you," she began, "Malfoy had less than nothing to do with what's troubling me at present. He was merely the messenger, he didn't harm me any more than you already know."

Ginny sighed and leaned her head in her hands.

"No," she whispered. "No. What happened just - happened. He wasn't responsible for it any more than I was myself."

How can I tell him I'm dying?

She sat up, smoothing her hair away from her face, and looked her brother in the eyes.

"This is not something I can easily share," she began tiredly, "but I have a very strong feeling that I have no option. How much do you know, Fred?"

Her brother paused, at a loss to reply. He frowned, biting his lip in indecision.

"Know?" Fred repeated. He gave a crooked little smile.

"Ginny," he continued, "I think 'know' is rather too strong a word for my current collection of guesses, don't you?"

Ginny shook her head impatiently.

"Suspect, then," she countered. "Conjecture, surmise, suppose - figure out. Fred, I don't know how you do it, but you're always there ahead of the front-runners. Even Harry. If you truly don't know how you do it, perhaps it's time you found out."

Fred's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to protest, but Ginny had already abandoned the subject. She fidgeted with her mug of tea, running her fingers up and down the sides, over the handle.

"I know I wasn't responsible for what happened with Malfoy," she said at last, "even though I pursued him on his own ground with no plan, weapons or backup. According to Malfoy, I was merely responding to the first part of the enchantment. To coin a cliché, I couldn't help myself."

Ginny sighed again and looked straight at her brother. Fred felt a sudden quiver run down his spine.

"But thank you, anyway, Fred," she said with a small smile. "I guess you just laid a number of potential ghosts to rest. Ghosts that might have raised their ugly heads at some inconvenient time in the future. The near future, of course. As for the rest, well, I can't really speak for it."

Fred leaned forward to take her hand in his.

"Ginny, what are you trying to tell me?" he asked softly. "You've let me spin on and on about torture and its effects and, yes - you do need to come to terms with what you've been through, but I've known from the start that there's more to it than simple trauma. Can you tell me about it? Is it something a brother who loves you very much can help you with?"

Ginny turned away, lowering her gaze to the floor. She said nothing for a long while, just gazing emptily at the flagstones, her fingers involuntarily rubbing the seam on her dressing gown.

"Did you know we're not the first? Harry and me, I mean," she began obliquely. Fred frowned.

"Not the first to be targeted by the Dark Side, do you mean? Oh, no - hang on." He sat upright in his chair. "Are you talking about the Mind Bond?"

Ginny nodded soberly.

"Draco Malfoy told me about it," she began conversationally. "He enlightened me on a number things that morning - just boasting, really. As far as he could see, it really didn't matter what he told me; after all, I'd forget it all pretty soon once he completed his ensorcellment, wouldn't I?"

Fred winced at the casual reference, but wisely kept silent. Ginny was nodding.

"Yes," she continued, her voice curiously empty of emotion. "Apparently, there have been a number of attempted Bondings. It usually happens between Dark Wizards for some reason. Some have achieved partial results, but no two wizards have yet accomplished a complete Bonding."

Ginny looked up at Fred once again.

"Malfoy told me that the process is risky in some ways," she told him, "but the potential payoff is so powerful that no one in their right mind would hesitate. Of course, there has to be special training, guidance, and so on. But the real danger lies in initiating the process without following it through. Without the correct guidance, Mind Bonding is invariably fatal - at least for the weaker partner."

Fred was shaking his head.

"I don't understand," he protested. "How have some wizards achieved a partial Bond when it's fatal to leave the process incomplete?"

"Apparently, they went through the Bonding process, but their melding was not totally successful," Ginny replied. "They can still combine powers to a degree, but no amount of effort or training can make a partial Bond into a complete one. They are stuck with what they've got forever. The threat of death only arises when the process is begun but not followed through."

"I still don't understand." Fred was confused. Something battered silently at the boundaries of his brain. A truth he didn't want to face, destructive, devastating in its ramifications. His mind resisted the momentum, pushed it away. Ginny shook her head wearily.

"And neither, brother-mine, do I," she told him. "All I know is that Bonding partnerships need training, advice and constant nurturing to get them through. And that once the Bonding process is begun, there is no going back."

Fred spoke into the awkward silence.

"But that doesn't affect you and Harry, surely," he protested. "You've done nothing to ..."

Fred trailed off in horror as the truth knocked out his defences and arced through him like mains electricity. Struck dumb with shock, he stared at the naked despair in Ginny's eyes.

"That's why I can do things no witch of my age should be able to - especially with three years of abstinence behind me," she said in a low voice. "That's why I can perform spells without my wand, spells that have enough power to knock out wards cast by experts - such as the ones on Ernie Macmillan's sound equipment. Oh, Fred!"

Ginny buried her face in her hands with a dry sob. Fred looked on, speechless and appalled, and then he grabbed her hand.

"Ginny," he began urgently. "Tell me again from the beginning what Malfoy said - all of it, don't leave anything out, however small or insignificant it may appear to be."

~oOo~

Harry stood at the top of the West Wing staircase. He had been aware of Ginny's absence for some hours, but had only now come in search of her. He listened carefully to the sound of muted weeping punctuated by the low murmur of a male voice, evidently giving comfort.

Harry edged his way down the stairs, trying not to be heard. He had no real desire to eavesdrop, but a mixture of worry and curiosity drove him to discover who Ginny's companion was. It was with great relief that he peered around the corner to see Fred's familiar face silhouetted in the dim light.

Ginny sighed weakly, exhausted with memory and the effort of recall.

"Is that everything you can think of?" Fred asked in a quiet voice. His sister nodded wearily.

"Everything he said, from start to finish," she confirmed. "I think it's more or less verbatim, although I can't be sure. Something like that gets etched into one's memory. I'm not likely to forget that morning in a hurry."

Ginny chuckled ironically through her tears, then leaned her head on Fred's shoulder and closed her eyes. Presently, her breathing slowed and he realised that, despite her emotional turmoil, she had fallen into a deep, natural sleep. He remained still for a long time, reluctant to risk disturbing her.

Presently, his eyes darted to the West Wing stairs, detecting movement in the shadows. Squinting, he made out the ghostly figure of Harry hovering uncertainly on the final step. Fred shook his head gently.

"Let her sleep here," he whispered. "She'll be all right."

Harry nodded almost imperceptibly. Fred sighed, his breath like a ghostly breeze in the night air.

"Harry," he continued quietly. "I think you and I are going to need a long talk later on today."

Harry's face was puzzled, but he gave the affirmative willingly enough. Fred settled Ginny's sleeping head more firmly on his shoulder.

A very long talk, he thought, with no small amount of foreboding. And then we're going to have to decide what to do.

Noiselessly, Harry padded to the other sofa and settled himself in the corner nearest the fireplace. He glanced out of the kitchen window and raised an eyebrow.

"It's nearly sunrise," he remarked quietly. "I'll make us some tea shortly."

His voice carried faintly over to the sofa, to where Ginny stirred and smiled in her sleep. Fred nodded his thanks, shifting his aching shoulders into a more comfortable position.

Silence fell in the kitchen as the grey light of dawn crept in, and the first stirrings of birdsong could be heard in the garden of Harry's House.

FINIS