Don't Say It

Don't Say It

He knew he wasn't supposed to be here - but the temptation was just too great. Having no one around to tell him otherwise, he had done what he had been longing to do since September the first. Now, amidst a raging snowstorm, armed with only his wand and the precious Marauder's Map, Harry Potter snuck into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry via a secret passage after Apparating into the Shrieking Shack.

Earlier that late November day, before the storm had hit, he had been resting quietly in front of a blazing fire with Ron and Hermione at number twelve, Grimmauld Place. They had been discussing how to go about their search for the next Horcrux, as they had reason to believe there was one located at the orphanage where Tom Riddle had stayed before leaving Hogwarts. In a bout of good luck they had stumbled over an article stating that the very orphanage they had been looking for was undergoing repairs. While that in itself was nothing to take notice of, the article also stated that the Muggle construction workers were putting off work temporarily due to various injuries. It turned out that one of the rooms they were supposed to be renovating kept giving them some unexplainable problems: a wardrobe that wouldn't open, a dresser that shut its drawers on fingers and a chair that would disappear whenever anyone tried to move or sit on it, among other things. There was also a strange carving on the floorboards underneath the single window, which no one could seem to give a clear description of. After the trio had questioned the landlady, she had grudgingly admitted that the room hadn't been in use for more than fifty years and, she had told them in a whisper, her predecessor had claimed that it was haunted, a fact which Hermione had been delighted by.

"Voldemort would have been seventeen the last time he stayed there. Who's to say he didn't add a few, erm, modifications to his room, before he left?"

"Yeah, the Ministry wouldn't have taken any notice if he didn't use any dark magic or use magic in front of a Muggle, since he was of age," Ron had added.

"And," Harry had said. "Voldemort's smart enough to be able to elude the Ministry. I'm sure there're spells and such for that sort of thing, and if there weren't, he would have created his own." He paused for a moment before speaking again. "There's nothing for it. We'll have to go back and look around." Hermione opened her mouth as if to speak but Harry overrode her. "There isn't anything we can do to prepare for this. We've already questioned the landlady and everyone else is a Muggle. They'd think we were barmy asking questions about it. You know Muggles; they think if they ignore it, it'll go away."

"Well, you can't blame them, really," Ron had put in. "Every time something like this happens someone from the Ministry swoops down to fix it and a memory charm or two later, everything is alright again."

"You have a point, Ron. But in this case, there isn't anyone from the Ministry who can help. We'll have to be the ones 'swooping' in."

Hermione had looked at Harry timidly then. "Harry, I don't think you should come along this time." Harry had shot out of his chair, barely containing a grimace of pain. "See," Hermione had said triumphantly, "you can't even move suddenly without hurting yourself."

"I could if I had to. The cut's not that deep and you healed it up well-"

"Not that deep! Harry - any deeper and you might not have been able to use your left arm anymore. I'm no Madam Pomfrey, Harry, and we daren't risk taking you to St. Mungo's. Besides, if all we're going to do is look around, then you might as well stay here."

And that was that. Hermione and Ron had taken Harry's invisibility cloak and gone to the orphanage where Tom Riddle had grown up earlier that evening, searching for some clue of where another Horcrux might be located, if not at the orphanage itself.

Although the cut Harry had gotten two days ago, while searching for said Horcrux, had yet to heal thoroughly despite Hermione's attempts, Harry had taken advantage of Ron and Hermione's absence and escaped from Grimmauld Place to Hogwarts - to her.

Harry reached the end of the tunnel and looked out onto the snowy ground of Hogwarts through the many branches of the Whomping Willow. Although the tree's branches were shivering from the cold, Harry wasn't going to take any chances. He prodded the knot at the base, freezing the willow temporarily. Before exiting, Harry tapped his wand on the top of his head and a cold feeling trickled down his spine. He glanced down to make sure the charm had worked. He had taken on the appearance of his surroundings, chameleon like. Where his body had been now reflected the color and texture of the Whomping Willow's branches, part of the trunk and the surrounding snow. While he was practically invisible, he still wished he had his Invisibility Cloak, but Ron and Hermione had more need for it than he did, and they had no idea what he was up to.

Pulling his winter cloak more tightly around him, mindful of his injury, he activated the map. He glanced over it as he trudged through the snow, looking for anyone he needed to avoid and for that one, familiar name. The name of the person he thought of more than anyone else.

Hagrid was in his hut, McGonagall was in her office, and Filch was currently prowling the corridors near the North Tower. The coast was clear and Harry spelled the door with a silencing charm before opening it. A breath of warm air and the light from the wall sconces hit Harry as he stepped inside and shut the door behind him. Keeping carefully quiet even though no one was nearby, Harry shook the snow from his cloak and checked to make sure the Disillusionment Charm was still in place. He kept to the shadows as he crept along the silent halls of the school, checking the map every so often to make sure the way to his destination was still clear. It felt strange to be back, if only for a short time. It felt different roaming the halls now that he was no longer a student. It was almost as if he no longer belonged - even though Hogwarts had been his first true home. He was older now, more worldly, and he could never go back to the more innocent years he had had before.

He eventually reached the seventh floor and leaned against a marble column near the Fat Lady's portrait to catch his breath. He leaned His side was cramping slightly from the exertion and his arm was throbbing. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, silently, trying to block out the pain. He was about to stand up again when he remembered something so vitally important, so amazingly obvious, that he couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before.

The password. He didn't know what the password was to Gryffindor Tower.

He sunk to the floor and bit back a groan, banging the back of his head against the column in frustration. To have come all this way only to be thwarted now! Really, he should have thought of it sooner. Had he expected just to be able to waltz right into the Common Room, without a by your leave? For that matter, how had he expected to get up to the girls' dormitories? After further contemplating the matter, he realized that even though he could use the map to find out which dormitory she was in, had he really thought he could just go in and wake her up? She was likely to hex him in her sleep if he tired. He knew. He had done it before. This girl of his did not like to be woken up, for any reason. Despite the late hour, however, Harry had had a hunch that she would still be awake, but if she wasn't... How could he have been so stupid?

He readjusted his cloak, wrapped his arms around his knees and rested his head atop them, staring blankly at the portrait in front of him. The Fat Lady slumbered peacefully in her frame, oblivious to the tortured soul nearby. His eyes were wandering along with his thoughts, trying to work out where to go from here, when they caught sight of a slight movement on the map that rested beside him. He grabbed at it, hardly daring to believe his eyes, and looked closer. There, on the map, was a minuscule dot labelled 'Harry Potter' standing in front of the portrait with a tiny speech bubble above it with the words 'crinitus senilis' written inside. Hardly believing his luck, Harry stood quickly, mindful of his arm, and moved closer to the portrait.

He cleared his throat to wake the Fat Lady. She stretched and yawned in her frame and mumbled, "Password?"

"Crinitus senilis." Harry held his breath.

"Yes, yes," the Fat Lady said sleepily. "Mind you don't stay out so late again, whoever you are." The portrait swung open and Harry quickly moved through the opening, just in case she changed her mind. He folded the map and stuck it in his pocket before entering the Gryffindor Common Room.

It looked just how Harry remembered it. Decorated in deep reds and gold, the rugs and furniture looked so inviting it was all Harry could do to resist sitting down and forgetting everything. It was late, almost midnight, so the room was empty save for a few people he couldn't see clearly talking softly in front of the fire, which, aside from a few torches on the wall, was the only light. Most of the room was in shadows making it easy for Harry to creep close, unobserved. He looked closely at the group still in the common room and wasn't surprised at who they were.

Colin Creevey was sprawled out on the sofa with his head in Demelza Robin's lap, his camera, never far from his side, was on the floor next to him. Dennis, Colin's younger brother, was lying down on the carpet in front of the fire. He was concentrating on a contraption in front of him, but Harry couldn't see clearly enough to tell what it was.

Harry then looked at the person who was occupying one of the arm chairs. She was curled up like a cat, her bright red hair spilling over her shoulders. Harry was amused to see that she was wearing his old jumper from fourth year, the one with the dragon on the front. He had been wondering where it had disappeared to.

He stood in the shadows just staring at her, hardly daring to breathe, when all he wanted to do was go to her and sweep her up into his arms and never let go.

She must have sensed something, for suddenly she sat up and looked around. Harry shrank back.

"What is it?" Colin asked.

"Nothing, I just thought-" her voice was light and musical. She curled back up in the armchair. "Never mind," she said, shaking her head. She turned back to gaze into the fire, missing the knowing look the others shared.

"Well," Colin said, standing up, "I'm for bed." The others nodded in agreement.

"You coming, Ginny?" Demelza asked when she noticed that Ginny hadn't moved.

"In a bit," the redhead answered. "I think I'll stay down here a while longer."

"He's alright, you know," Demelza told her, accurately reading Ginny's thoughts. "We would have heard if something had happened."

When Ginny didn't answer Demelza shook her head, leaving Ginny to her thoughts.

When the others had disappeared up the stairs to their separate dorms and the Common Room was silent save for the crack and pop of the fire, Harry moved slightly closer to where Ginny was sitting, watching the firelight reflect in her hair. He looked at her longingly; there was a deep ache in his chest, and the need to just sit quietly next to her growing greater each moment he watched her. He mouthed her name, hopelessly wishing she would somehow hear him.

He started when she shot out of her chair and looked around the room frantically. "Harry?" she called out softly, even though he knew he hadn't spoken aloud.

He held his breath; he wasn't supposed to be here and if she saw him he knew it would be that much harder to leave. When he didn't answer she sat back down, on the sofa this time, and spread out along its length, pillowing her head on her arms. "Damn, who am I kidding?" she said miserably, letting out a huge sigh and burying her face in her arms. He knew she wasn't crying. Ginny hardly ever cried.

Harry moved until he was standing directly in front of her, careful to not make a sound. Being this close to her and not being able to touch her was torture. Suddenly, he didn't care anymore. He didn't care if she knew that he had come to see her. All he wanted was to talk with her, to be with her - even if only for a short time. He kneeled down in front of the sofa and tentatively reached out with his good arm and brushed his fingers gently against her hair. Ginny didn't notice, so he did it again.

This time she shook her head and moved her arm as though she were swatting away a bothersome fly. Smiling, he moved his hand away quickly, before she could hit it. He loved teasing her like this. When she settled down again he leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"Ginny."

Her breath hitched. "Leave me alone," she muttered, thinking she was hearing things.

"Ginny," he said, louder this time.

She sat up slowly. "Harry?" she breathed, hardly daring to believe it. "Is that you?" She pulled out her wand. "Accio invisibility cloak!" When nothing happened she huffed in annoyance. "Where are you?"

"Right here," he said.

She looked around confusedly, blinking several times before she caught on. "You're disillusioned."

He smiled at her, even though he knew she couldn't see. "You've been doing your reading."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Hermione said it would be a useful charm to know."

He laughed. You could always count on Hermione. He reached out and took Ginny's hand, twining their fingers together. They stayed like that for a while, before she let out a frustrated sigh.

"This is ridiculous. Harry, take the spell off."

"I can't," he said. "If someone comes down... No one can know I'm here."

"Everyone's already in bed. Besides," she added knowingly, "we'll hear them coming and you'll be able to redo the spell and get away in plenty of time."

Harry sighed, knowing she was right but hating that she was. He was almost afraid to let her see him. He didn't want her fussing over him, his injuries, old and new, lecturing him, since it was obvious that he hadn't been eating enough. But he gave in, knowing that he would have to anyway. What was the point in prolonging the inevitable?

He pulled out his wand and rapped himself on the top of his head. He felt warmth trickle down his spine and knew that the spell had been lifted.

Ginny stared at him for what seemed like hours, taking everything in. She saw that he looked underfed, stressed, and just plain miserable. But there was a glow in his eyes that she recognized; the glow that he reserved just for her. She flung herself at him, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck. Harry lost his balance and they fell to the floor, laughing.

The righted themselves and Harry sat back against the sofa. Ginny leaned back against him, letting Harry wrap his arms carefully around her. She let out a contented sigh.

"I've miss-"

"Don't say it," he interrupted her. "If we say it it'll just be worse when I have to go again."

She nodded, understanding, and talked to him about inconsequential things, knowing he wouldn't talk about what he was working on with Ron and Hermione. She knew and let him keep his secrets. He had come to see her and that was enough.

As they talked Harry relaxed, resting his head on Ginny's shoulder and listening to her melodious voice. In the back of his mind were thoughts of Ron and Hermione and how their mission was going, but right now all of that took second place to the girl sitting in his arms. He knew it would still be there when he left and worrying about it wasn't going to change anything. Ginny had taught him that. Sometime you just had to live in the moment, the here and now, and let everything else simmer in the background.

Harry was getting stiff sitting in the same position for so long. He raised his arms above his head and stretched, wincing slightly as his injured arm got pulled the wrong way. He hoped Ginny hadn't noticed.

"Harry?" she asked him.

"Hmm?"

"What's wrong with your arm?"

He nearly groaned aloud; so much for her not noticing. "Nothing," he tried to pass it off.

"Don't lie to me. I could tell it pained you when you stretched."

"It's nothing, just an old cut. Hermione fixed it up mostly."

"Mostly?" She turned so that she was facing him. "Let me see it."

"Why?"

"Just let me see it."

"No."

"Harry, don't be difficult. I might be able to help."

"Hermione couldn't heal it completely. What can you do?"

She gave him a look. "I've picked up a few things watching Mum fix up Fred and George all those times."

Harry sighed in defeat and Ginny, knowing that he had given in, told him to sit on the sofa. Harry did as she told him and shrugged out of his cloak and robes. When she gestured for him to pull his jumper and T-shirt off as well and he stared blankly at her.

"For goodness sake, Harry. Don't be so modest. It's nothing I haven't seen before, as you well know," she said with a raised eyebrow.

He grinned as he pulled off his T-shirt and jumper, remembering the first time she had asked to see him without a shirt on. And then, later in the Common Room, she had told Ron and Hermione about Romilda Vane asking if he had a Hippogriff tattooed on his chest. It had never even occurred to Ron that his little sister had seen his best mate without a shirt on, more than once. Although, Hermione had caught on, you could always count on her.

Ginny sat down next to him, took his arm in her hands and slowly unwrapped the bandage around his upper arm. The last few layers were spotted with a small amount of blood. She tore the bloody part off and put it on the floor after wiping the wound, and set the rest on her lap. Harry had been right; the cut was mostly healed - if he hadn't kept using his arm it would have been already.

"You keep using your arm," she admonished him.

"So what?"

"Didn't Hermione tell you not to?

"Yeah."

Ginny huffed. "Let me try something," she said, pointing her wand at his cut. "Corium adhaero!" The cut slowly drew itself together and Ginny smiled triumphantly. She took the bandages and wrapped his arm up again. "It might still hurt a bit, but you won't tear it open again. Although I recommend moving your arm as little as possible."

"What did you do?" He tugged his T-shirt and jumper back on.

"Glued it together."

"What? How is that going to help?"

"It's not really glued. Mum used it on Fred once. It lets the cut heal by itself, but prevents it from reopening, bleeding or getting infected. Pretty cool, huh?"

"Yeah, pretty cool." He lay down on the sofa and pillowed his head in Ginny's lap.

He couldn't get over how wonderful it felt to just be with her. He could feel her running her finger through his hair and he closed his eyes, just enjoying the sensation. He could almost forget about the war, Voldemort, the Horcruxes...

He sighed deeply and opened his eyes as he felt Ginny shift down to lay along side him on the sofa so they were face to face. He looked deep into her eyes and could see himself reflected in them.

The Common Room was quiet save for their breathing. All the torches had burned out and the only light left was the fire burning in the grate. Harry hadn't been this relaxed for a long time. He reached up his arm and brushed her hair behind her ear. He leaned closer and brought his face closer to hers so that he could kiss her softly on the mouth. He felt her sigh, and he opened his mouth so he could kiss her more deeply, his breath mingling with her own.

Harry broke off the kiss and sat up. He pulled Ginny into his arms and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her hair.

"I wish-"

She cut him off by pressing a finger against his lips. "Don't say it," she said softly, mimicking what he had told her earlier. "If you say it it'll be worse when you have to go again."

She leaned back against him. They didn't move for some time; they didn't speak, for no words were necessary; they didn't have to say out loud what they knew they both felt.

An hour later, when it had finally stopped snowing, Harry left the castle the same way he had entered, the Disillusionment Charm once again in place. Parting from Ginny had been heartrending. While they had had an unspoken understanding that he would visit again, there was no telling when it would be or what would have happened in the meantime. Nonetheless, there was a bounce in his steps and he couldn't stop smiling.

Ron and Hermione were still gone when he reached number 12 Grimmauld Place, to his relief. He hadn't fancied explaining where he had been. He lay in bed staring at the ceiling in the dark room, thoughts of Ginny and the time he had just spent with her filling his head and feeling more like himself then he had for a long while. He knew that when all of this was over he could go back to her; for a lifetime of sunlit days.