The Silent Siege

Chapter 25

The Heir of Slytherin

Ron moved awkwardly out of their embrace and Harry saw that his eyes, too, were filled with tears. It was only the second time he had ever seen Ron cry, the first being when he had tried to ask Hermione to the Guy Fawkes ball, in what now seemed like a previous lifetime.

"Are you all right?" asked Harry.

Ron nodded. "You?"

"All right."

There was a pause.

"Listen, Ron."

"Listen, Harry."

The two friends smiled as the words came out of their mouths at the same time.

There was another pause and then Harry started to speak again.

"Look, Ron, before we go any further. I owe you a big apology."

Ron looked at Harry astounded.

"Y - you owe me an apology? Harry, what for?"

"I turned my back on you and Hermione. I shouldn't have. You were right. And it was you who saved our lives down in that room first of all. If I had gone in by myself, I would be dead by now."

"You saved my life, too, Harry."

Harry shook his head.

"It wouldn't have needed saving if it wasn't for my own stupidity."

Ron couldn't stand it any longer.

"Harry," he cried out, tears flowing freely down his cheeks. "Mate, look, I'm sorry. I owe you an apology."

Harry was already shaking his head.

"No, look, Ron, just forget - "

But Ron was shaking his own head.

"No, I can't forget it. I - I said some terrible things to you, Harry. I don't know - "

"Ron, I said just forget - "

"Harry, I didn't mean what I said, honestly," said Ron very quickly. "I was mad because you hadn't told me about you and Ginny. I thought you'd been keeping it a secret. I didn't understand but now I do; she explained it to me. And I never really believed Hermione when she said you had a 'saving people thing' and I definitely don't think that what happened to Sirius was your - "

"SHUT IT!"

Harry fell down on to the bed, his hands over his ears. Ron stopped talking and looked up at him.

And then something seemed to snap inside Harry. He put his hands over his head and tried unsuccessfully to stop his own tears from falling down his face. When he looked up at Ron again, it was through very hurt-looking bloodshot eyes.

"You knew that I killed Sirius, didn't you? You all knew. I don't blame you, Ron, you were just being honest or you were about to be. But it's true, isn't it?"

Ron was mortified. This was far worse than even he had imagined it would be.

"No, no, Harry, you didn't and I didn't mean that you did. I - I was angry, all right, and - and I - I - I just got carried away. I know it's not a good reason. I.... "

Ron shook his head, clearly beside himself, tears once again threatening to fall.

Harry looked up at him, a horribly dark expression on his face.

"I don't suppose you can tell me whether you're telling me the truth now or you were telling it to me then?"

"Harry, do you want to hit me? You can, I won't stop you, I promise. I know; I deserve it."

But Harry just shook his head sadly and Ron suddenly felt far more stung than the worst of Harry's blows would have made him feel.

"I don't want to hit you, Ron," said Harry sadly.

Harry stood up again and looked at his best friend. He wanted to tell Ron how much he wanted to forget about everything he'd said that day. But he also knew that he wasn't going to be able to make himself forget that easily.

"Look, mate," he said, putting his hand on Ron's shoulder. "We're OK for now, all right?"

Ron nodded, stifling a whimper.

"But I need you to think very carefully and after you've gotten over all the guilt, I want you to tell me if you really want to be my friend because friends don't say things to each other like you said to me down in that bathroom."

"I've already thought. I - "

But Harry shook his head.

"Not now. Later."

***

Constable Daniel Peters looked thoughtfully into his coffee cup as he idly strode the walkway between platforms nine and ten at King's Cross Station. His wife had kept him up late into the night, on about something or other he'd ought to have done before coming home the evening before, the details of which had now once again slipped the constable's somewhat fatigued mind. Peters considered for a moment how very much his wife often reminded him both in tone of voice and the habit of barking late in the night to the Fisher's dog and, smiling to himself at the similarity, looked up and blinked.

There was that family of red heads again. Yet it seemed they hadn't been there a moment before. Peters looked around to see if a train had just pulled up on either of the two platforms but curiously there didn't seem to be any. Peters was sure it was the same lot he'd seen the previous summer, only there seemed to be more of them this time. There was the man and the woman again, dressed slightly normally this time, although the man still wore non-matching canary yellow and lime green socks and ankle-revealing trousers. There was a tall young man who wore his fiery hair in a ponytail, possibly the eldest son, the twins again, the tall lanky boy, and his little sister. And then there was another boy, his jet black hair a straggly mess and a very odd scar on his forehead standing with his arm around the younger girl's waist. Peters looked at them curiously, wondering about whatever it was that might have happened wherever it was they had gone, when he felt a hand clasp him firmly on the shoulder.

The constable wheeled around, his hand reaching instinctively for his club, and found himself face to face with the wiry hair, toothless smile, and rancid breath of the same vagrant he had cited for liquor possession last summer.

"Sorry, there, guv'nor. Didn't mean to startle yeh or nothin'."

"I'd advise you to unhand me, sir. I am an officer of the Metropolitan Police."

"Oh, right yeh are there, guv'nor." The vagrant took his hand away from Peters' shoulder. "Got a bit cheeky, didn't I?"

Peters looked the vagrant up and down properly. He had to admit he'd seemed to have made some sort of effort to clean up his appearance now. At least, he'd shaved even if his clothes were mismatched and poorly fitting, curiously not unlike those of the red headed man, and his breath no longer seemed to smell of alcohol. Peters allowed himself an inward smile for the first time that day. Perhaps the gentle taste of the law had taught this indolent tramp a thing or two.

Peters frowned again as he noticed for the first time that the vagrant was wheeling some kind of trunk along behind him. He peered at it curiously. He could have sworn he saw stenciled on the side of the trunk the words:

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

SUMMER ADULT EDUCATION PROGRAMME

The vagrant seemed to have noticed Peters peering at the words.

"What d'yeh think, guv'nor, eh, eh?"

"Well, sir, I - "

"Don't mean to be rude or nothin', guv'nor, but I owe this gent over 'ere a bit of an apology." The vagrant indicated the red headed man. "Turns out 'e weren't one o' 'em aliens, after all. He's a wizard and so am I!"

Peters sighed. He watched as the vagrant wheeled his trunk over to the family of red heads. He should have known that this lot would end up together somehow. He decided he had better watch at a discreet distance. There was no telling what they were really up to.

The vagrant reached into a frayed pocket in his jacket and produced a crumpled looking letter with an official looking seal on the back. Peters started to wonder whether he had stumbled across some form of secret society or mafia. Perhaps that scar on the boy's head was really a tattoo or initiation mark and the others all had it somewhere, too.

"Couldn't believe it but it's true, 'int it, guv'nor? Eh? They say I'm a late bloomer."

The vagrant's smile was returned by the red-headed man and every member of the red-headed family, the boy with the straggly hair in particular.

"Indeed it must be, sir," said the red headed man.

The vagrant leaned over to him conspiratorially.

"I feel a bit embarrassed asking, guv'nor, only I think there's been a bit of a foul up with me ticket. It says 'ere me train leaves from Platform nine-and-three-quarters."

"Ah, yes."

The red headed man's eyes darted around and took in Peters standing near them for the very first time. He leaned forward and whispered into the vagrant's ear.

Peters felt his heart beat start to increase. Platform nine-and-three-quarters. It must be some kind of code that they have to initiate the vagrant into. He took a cautious step forward already thinking of the possibilities for promotion if he could catch this lot red-handed, as it were. Perhaps he could get away from this wretched station after all and find a place behind a nice comfortable desk in a cushy office.

Peters was drawn back to attention as the vagrant moved away from the red-headed man in alarm. He looked back and forth from the motley group to what seemed like a plain brick wall that marked the dividing barrier between platforms nine and ten.

"Best to do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous," said the boy with the scar, smiling encouragingly.

"Good luck!" said the girl.

The vagrant's horrified expression slowly changed to a smile. Nodding once more to the red headed clan, he grasped the handle of his trolley tightly and before Peters' shocked eyes ran at full tilt straight toward the barrier.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" he bellowed.

The vagrant and his trolley disappeared through the wall. Peters' coffee cup fell to the ground and its contents showered his trousers.

"Oh, dear."

The red headed man took a long wooden stick out of a pocket in the inside of his jacket and walked slowly over to Peters and a growing crowd of onlookers all of whom were staring dumbfounded at the vagrant's ostentatious departure. Peters knew he ought to have reached for his club but his hand seemed to stay frozen in place.

"I'm terribly sorry about this," said the red headed man, addressing the crowd. He flicked his wooden stick and Peters' empty coffee cup flew into the constable's hand. "Hopefully they'll teach him some etiquette at school this summer."

Peters whimpered.

The next moment, however, he was staring at his empty coffee cup wondering how he had managed to drink up the contents so quickly. He looked around the station noticing an unusual number of lost-looking passengers, certain there was something important he had forgotten. After being unable to remember what it was, Peters sighed and looked at his watch. Time seemed to have passed much faster than usual. Now if he could only remember what he was supposed to get for his wife.

***

Within a day or so of Ron and Hermione's return to Hogwarts, all of the remaining occupants of Gryffindor Tower had packed their trunks and made their goodbyes to their teachers and friends. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, along with Fred, George, and Bill, had accompanied them back from the school. Mr. Weasley had thought to arrange a portkey for them to return but Dumbledore insisted that they take the Hogwarts Express, saying that it still had to return to London to pick up passengers for the summer training program. And so the heroes of the Hogwarts siege along with their friends and admirers who had remained had the whole train to themselves. Even with the smaller number of passengers, the sweet cart attendant still did a very brisk trade.

There were many empty compartments on the train on this day but at least one was quite crowded. Ginny and Harry had become almost inseparable and nearly everywhere they went Ron and Hermione did, too. Harry was also very pleased when Professor Lupin joined them and he was surprised to find that he, too, could play a very mean game of Exploding Snap. It came as no surprise that Fred and George seemed to have learned the news about Harry and Ginny before they were reunited with their sister. They had taken a few early cracks at both of them but this had quickly died out when it seemed that everyone else no longer thought the relationship particularly remarkable. Once their verbal teasing had failed, they had amused themselves by trying to walk in between Harry and Ginny when they were holding hands but this, too, lost its interest after a time.

Hermione's parents had met her on the platform in London and she had left the others, promising to a much forlorn-looking Ron that she would come to the Burrow to visit later in the summer. Harry had been a little anxious that the Dursleys would arrive on the platform to meet him although part of him was looking forward to the opportunity to tell them to sod off. He was very certain that they wouldn't shed any tears over the thought of losing their nephew for good, either. But it soon seemed that someone - probably Dumbledore - had alerted the Dursleys that there was no need for them to go to the station this year. Harry could imagine the expression on Uncle Vernon's face as yet another owl flew into their house to deliver the news.

Once they had safely left the station, Harry had insisted on going out shopping with Professor Lupin in Muggle London though he didn't say why. It seemed obvious that the two of them had discussed their trip ahead of time in private. Ginny had still been holding his hand and had wanted to follow along but he'd asked her to stay with her parents and look after Hedwig and Snitch, whom he said he didn't trust to keep quiet in front of the Muggles. Ginny had been disappointed but she agreed partly because she suspected that Harry also had other reasons for wanting to shop without her

The days and nights once Ginny returned to the Burrow were some of the best she could ever remember. It seemed that Harry had returned to her all of the wonder of childhood and she wondered why she had not noticed it missing from her life for so long. On sunny days, she would go out with Harry and Ron to play Quidditch, harass the garden gnomes, or take turns playing hide-and-seek under Harry's invisibility cloak. On rainy days, she and Harry would sit alone in her room, tucked warmly together under her large blanket, playing with Mr. Sunshine or sharing stories from their childhood. Most of Ginny's stories were happy or funny but Harry's were often quite sad and when he shared them with Ginny, they both grew quite serious. Ginny had the habit of running her fingers gently through his unkempt hair as he talked as if she could pull out the strands of his troubles.

Ginny slept restlessly all summer, though it was a happy sort of restlessness. She would part reluctantly from Harry to return to her room to sleep each night. She always seemed to sleep lightly and her dreams never strayed too far from her conscious mind where she could always control them. She would often awake many times in the night, feeling the soft breezes blow in through her curtains and kiss the strands of her hair. Whenever this happened, she would try to return to sleep once again, hoping that the next time she awoke she would find it was morning again. As soon as light reached her eyes, she would spring from her bed and run to her brother's room to find Harry. Often he would already be up waiting for her but perhaps even more delightful were the times he was still asleep and she could rest at the side of his bed letting her finger run curiously over his scar and watching the look on his face as he woke and saw her standing over him. Ron, of course, appreciated these early morning visits much less but he did not seem able to stomach a cross word for either Harry or Ginny and settled for throwing up a silencing charm around his bed. Although Harry and Ron seemed quite happy in each other's company, Ginny saw enough to know there was still something unresolved between them. But Ginny was not a nosy person by character and, after having first started them along the path to reconciliation, she was sensitive enough to allow them to resolve their remaining differences alone.

By the end of the third week of the holidays, during a lengthy rainy spell, Hermione arrived at the Burrow and Ron no longer seemed as interested in perfecting his charms and sleeping in late in the morning. It was also during this time that Professor Lupin arrived to help Harry, Ron, and Hermione begin their apparation lessons. Members of the Order came to and fro over the summer as it seemed that there was now no need for them to secretly assemble in Grimmauld Place. Tonks had arrived for the occasional lunch and livened up the dull skies outside with transformations into caricatures of various Hogwarts professors. Mrs. Weasley had finally drawn the line when she had turned into Snape complete with a nose that reached down to the top of the kitchen table. Even Mundungus Fletcher put in the odd appearance, often with news of the twins' joke shop, which seemed to cause Mrs. Weasley even further consternation.

Finally, when the house seemed as if it could no longer contain all of its impatient occupants, the clouds had cleared in the west to bathe the house and its garden in an enchanted red glow that showed off the green in Harry's eyes. The next bright sunny morning, Ginny had awoken with an energy that belied her restless sleep and she and Harry decided it was a perfect day for a walk and a picnic. They had asked Ron and Hermione to come along but it was quickly clear that they had their own plans. Walking out to the garden, they found Tonks with her wand poised over an outdoor cooking fire trying to set it alight.

"The Order is having a bit of a get together today and I'm preparing supper," she announced brightly. "And I'm afraid it's a touch on the awkward side," she added.

Just then, Mrs. Weasley made her way out into the garden with a slightly strained-looking smile.

"Are you sure you don't want to leave that to me, Tonks?"

"I think I've got the hang of it this time, thanks, Mol - "

Tonks' sentence ended in a sharp yelp as she withdrew several singed fingers that had wandered too near the fire.

"Are you sure you don't need our help?" asked Ginny in a tone that suggested she would rather do anything but.

"No, not at all, dear," replied Mrs. Weasley, looking fondly between Harry and Ginny in such a way that Harry was forced to blush and pretend to become interested in the adventures of a colony of ants on the ground. "You two run along now."

They next ran into Professor Lupin. With a pang of guilt, Harry remembered that he had promised to begin their apparation lessons on the first fine day. Harry had been very excited at the time but, strangely, he didn't feel quite so enthusiastic now.

"S - so you think it's a good day to start our apparation lessons?" asked Harry after they had exchanged greetings, unable to keep the frown off his face.

Lupin returned Harry's question with an unusual smile.

"No, Harry, I think it's far too nice a day for that. And from the looks of things, it seems you two have plans."

Ginny did not miss the wink that he flashed toward Harry. With nothing and no one else to stop them, the two Gryffindors left the Burrow that morning to walk its surrounding hills, Ginny carrying their enchanted picnic basket and Harry a strange looking package that Ginny tried her best not to ask about. Sometimes they talked but after a summer of conversation they did not have many topics left untouched and so for most of that morning, they walked in silence. Once long ago, Ginny had not known what Harry had felt about her and their silence had revealed the distance between them. But on this day, theirs was a silence that came from already knowing one another's feelings and no longer needing to always say the words.

Finally, they settled on a spot under a cluster of maple trees that was still worn from all of the summers where Ginny had rested there on her solitary walks. She removed a large blanket that was several times the size of the basket it which it had been brought and laid it down on the still damp earth. As she and Harry took out the many ingredients for their picnic, Ginny was struck by how much life there was teeming all around them: the songs of the birds that flew to examine their picnic seemed like an orchestra serenading them as they ate accompanied by the rustle of the leaves above their head and the soft buzz of a wasp moving from flower to flower beside them. Two butterflies danced back and forth in front of their eyes, playing and dancing together, the bright yellow of their wings brilliantly set against the bright blue sky above them. Ginny wondered whether they were watching her and Harry the same way that she saw them. It was as if the whole of nature knew like they did that now that the Dark Lord was gone, it was safe to come out and play again.

Ginny and Harry ate mostly in silence. When they had finished, however, as they watched the birds and the insects happily gather what still remained of their lunch, Ginny looked up at Harry and said:

"I've been wondering what's in that package all summer, you know."

Harry smiled mischievously.

"All right," he said. "But first I've got to give you something else."

Harry reached into the front pocket of his shirt and produced Snitch whom it seemed had been sleeping most of the morning and was only now awake. As he gently passed him into Ginny's hands, Snitch purred contentedly but still looked back across at his master with a slightly puzzled expression.

Ginny giggled and touched Snitch gently on the forehead.

"Well, let's face it," said Harry, slightly apologetically. "He gets on much better with you. I'm sure Hagrid won't mind."

Ginny looked back at Harry.

"I don't think so, Harry. Look at him. He misses you already. Why don't we both take care of him?" she asked, as Harry seemed about to object. "After all, we won't be far apart now, will we?"

Harry smiled as a sudden flush came into his own cheeks. He shook his head.

"I hope not."

And then quite suddenly Harry's smile faded and he seemed to be lost in other thoughts.

Ginny reached over and touched his forearm.

"Harry?" she said gently.

"Sorry," he said, looking up at her again. "I was lost in thought."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, too, you know that, don't you?"

"It's not that I don't want to share my feelings," he replied, looking back up at her. "It's just that I'm afraid that if I do, all of the things I try to forget will just seem more real again."

"What things?"

"Well, you know, like Sirius - and, well, I can't stop thinking about what Ron said down in that bathroom."

"Did he apologize?"

Harry nodded but a frown fell over his face again. "Yeah, but...." His voice trailed off again.

"But what?"

"I haven't forgiven him yet," Harry mumbled.

"And are you going to?" Ginny asked very quietly.

Harry looked up at her. "I will, yeah, for your sake, Ginny."

Ginny shook her head vigorously.

"No, Harry, no! I don't want you to do it for me! If you're mad at each other for the rest of your lives, I won't care! But I do hope you'll forgive him - for your sake."

"I just wish I knew whether he meant those things he said to me."

"Well, what if he did?"

Harry's eyes filled with sudden alarm. "Are you saying....?"

Ginny drew her arms around his waist and touched her forehead to his.

"Harry, listen to me. There's nothing you could have done," she said quietly, her voice suddenly sounding like a song coming from inside Harry's head. "Voldemort tricked you but what's done is done. Whatever Ron meant or didn't mean, it won't change that. But I know one thing: I know Sirius wouldn't have wanted to you to lose a friendship over something that couldn't be changed."

Harry didn't say anything for a moment but then he nodded very slowly.

"It's over now," Ginny added. "I love you, Harry. I don't want you to feel so much pain. Can you accept that?"

Harry looked back into Ginny's eyes for a moment, eyes he now knew were windows into a universe almost frightening in its depth. Then he slowly nodded.

"I can, I think," he said. "I'll try at least."

Ginny nodded, rocking Harry's own forehead as she moved hers up and down. Harry reached up and touched the side of her cheek.

"I feel bad for you, too, Ginny. I'm sorry Dumbledore made you suffer so much and that he didn't kill Voldemort for you. I'm sorry I didn't."

"Harry," said Ginny without flinching. "You weren't able to. One day you will be. And Dumbledore gave you that chance. He couldn't have done any differently."

"Yeah," said Harry reluctantly. "I suppose so. I'm not sorry you kicked him in the balls, though."

Ginny threw back her head and laughed. And after a few moments, Harry laughed, too.

"So out with it, Potter," Ginny said finally, putting her hands on her hips. "What's in the box?"

"What? Oh!"

Harry looked down at the package beside him. He handed it to Ginny.

"Happy Birthday."

"But my birthday's not till next week, Harry!"

"It might rain then, though. And Fred and George will come down."

Ginny smirked.

"You're learning, Harry."

She took out her wand and touched it to the top of the box.

The ribbon that had tied the package neatly together dissolved and the box sprang open like an egg to reveal a box made of a strange white substance that was very light but still quite firm. Ginny scratched her nail cautiously on the outside and a few small round white balls came away in her hand.

"It's called Styrofoam," explained Harry.

"What do I do with it?" asked Ginny curiously.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Nothing, actually. It's just covering what's inside."

With even greater curiosity, Ginny discovered that the Styrofoam came apart in two identical shells. Inside was a round metal cylinder.

"What do I do with this?" Ginny asked.

"You open it. Here."

Harry took the cylinder from her, pressed the button on the outside and a sort of little door sprang open.

"It's a box," Ginny decided. "But I don't think anything will fit inside. Unless you enchanted it, of course."

Harry shook his head and smiled.

"It's a portable CD player. Here."

He reached into the package and pulled a thin square object. It, too, opened up and revealed a round metal disc that shone in the sunlight.

"It's a sun catcher," said Ginny, taking it from him.

"It's a CD," said Harry.

He took the disc back from Ginny and put it into the player. He then took out a pair of ear muffs from the package attached to a long cord. He plugged one end of the cord into the player and put the ear muffs on top of Ginny's head.

"I don't want to wear these in the summer."

Harry held up a finger.

"Just listen," he said.

Harry smiled as Ginny's eyes widened. She suddenly took the ear muffs off.

"It's the Weird Sisters," she said. "I can hear them in my head. But how? It must be enchanted."

Harry shook his head.

"I can't explain it but it's not. The song is recorded somehow in the CD - the sun catcher if you like. I enchanted it to give it power but other than that...."

Ginny shook her head in amazement.

"That's spiffing! But how did Muggles get wizard music?"

Harry smiled.

"Professor Lupin said that some wizards and witches live in Muggle areas so they can't do the song spells and potions but they can go to buy the CDs."

"But don't Muggles find it suspicious when there are wizard CDs in their shops?"

Harry looked at the cover of the CD which bore a bright pink sticker with the words:

TOWER RECORDS

DISCOUNT

£7.99

"I suppose not," he replied. "They have enormous shops and lots of people work there. They don't take much notice. If they find a CD that wasn't there before, they just assume that someone else put it there and don't think any more of it."

Ginny shook her head.

"I can never understand Muggles," she declared, looking down at the CD player. "They can make something so brilliant, really much better than all of our awkward sng spells and potions, but they're also so easy to trick. It seems they'll believe almost anything."

Harry nodded.

"That's because it's much easier to believe a simple lie than accept a complicated truth. Believe me, I know from my aunt and uncle. And it was like that for me at first. I couldn't believe there was magic even when I was doing it all the time. No one would dare think any different because everyone would laugh at them just like that man we met at the train station."

Ginny nodded slowly. She reached over and pressed the button she had seen Harry touch on the top of the CD player. She could see from a window the CD spinning around in its box and the sounds of the Weird Sisters filled her head again.

"I wish you could listen, too," she said to Harry. "It's beautiful."

Harry smiled.

"I can."

He reached into the box and pulled out another set of ear muffs. He put them on his head and plugged the lead into another hole in the box. Then he laid down onto the blanket and shifted so that Ginny could rest her head on his chest. As the Weird Sisters started up their melodious chorus again, Harry began to sing. The sound traveled up through his chest and tickled Ginny's ear where she lay. Then she joined in as well.

"I'm confounded by your love;

it fills me every day;

it must just be your magic spell;

there is no other way.

"I haven't seen your potion;

I didn't spot your charm;

But this feeling that's inside me now;

I know I'll feel no harm.

"I'm confounded by your love;

it melts away my fears;

I'm riding on my broomstick now

Away from all my tears."

"You say you've put away your wand,

you've no spell left to hide;

Does this mean that my love for you

Is what I feel inside?

"I'm confounded by your love;

it fills me every day;

it must just be your magic spell;

there is no other way."

Harry had started into the next two songs before he became aware that Ginny was no longer singing. He looked down at her and saw that she was softly inhaling and exhaling with the rise and fall of her chest and that her eyes were closed. She had fallen asleep. Being careful not to arouse her again, Harry slowly reached over and turned off the CD player. He gently moved her into a more comfortable position on his chest and held her tightly to him. But Harry did not sleep himself. He continued to watch Ginny's lineless face as she slept. She did not twitch in the nervous way she had when he had watched her that night in the common room when Voldemort had entered her thoughts. The only expression that Ginny wore now was a strangely all-knowing smile. Harry had almost finished counting her freckles when her eyes came slowly open. She looked at him for a moment, still confused with the disorientation of sleep and then smiled more fully when she realized where she was and whom she was with.

"Do I bore you?" asked Harry.

Ginny stretched and yawned as she shook her head.

"I'm just relaxed."

"Any nightmares?"

Ginny shook her head smiling.

"Never with you."

Ginny stood up and reached out her arms to pull Harry with her.

"Come on," she said, running her hand along the side of his face as Snitch made a curious noise in the background. "There's still lots more to show you."

Ginny and Harry quickly used magic to gather up their belongings and continued their walk along the edge of the forest that divided them from the Muggle world. Ginny led Harry confidently around well-worn trails as the sun began its slow descent in the summer sky. Harry had always thought of England as a crowded place and marveled that there seemed to be so much wild land in the area around the Burrow. Every now and then they would come across another oddly-shaped house and Harry would know before Ginny told him that it belonged to another wizarding family. As the afternoon wore on, they circled a ring of pine trees rising in a steep slope around an ancient looking lake. It was difficult for Harry to imagine they were still in England. He wondered how all of this scenery could escape Muggle eyes. Perhaps it was enchanted so they really couldn't see or perhaps they were always just too busy to notice.

At last, they reached the end of the lake and came over a ridge. Ginny pointed out the misshapen form of the Burrow not far below them. But before they descended the slope to return to the house, she guided Harry to small patch of grass under a young-looking tree whose branches were just long enough to shade them from the strong late afternoon sun. Ginny conjured a flask of lemon squash and two glasses and poured out a drink for herself and Harry. Snitch jumped out of the waist pocket of Ginny's dress and landed on top of the flask making a sharp hooting sound. Ginny conjured a very tiny cup and gently fed some of the lemon squash to Snitch while stroking the top of his head with her finger.

"We can rest here," she said to Harry. She patted the trunk of the tree. "My parents planted this tree the year I was born. They planted a tree for each of my brothers as well. It was one of my best friends when I was growing up. Now I think it's grown a bit more than I have."

Harry still didn't know quite what to say. He was still busy taking in his surroundings. He realized how much he still didn't know about ordinary wizard life, having spent most of the days since he had first found out he was a wizard in Hogwarts and its surrounding area. He still had so many questions to ask Ginny he didn't know where to begin but before he could form any of them, he became aware that Ginny was speaking to him again.

"Harry," she said, looking a little serious. "There's something else I wanted to tell you."

Harry looked at her in surprise, wondering what more Ginny could have left unsaid.

"I - I want to thank you," Ginny went on, "for saving my life."

Harry sighed and smiled.

"You saved my life, too, Ginny," he replied gently.

"No, I don't mean just now in that room. I mean that, too, of course, but I wanted to thank you for saving my life in the Chamber of Secrets. You could have died down there. You very nearly did, I know that. And," Ginny looked down at the ground, "even with everything that's happened to us lately, both the good and the bad, I still don't think I've ever felt as relieved as I did that moment that I woke up and saw you there. B - but I could never tell you that. I - I was afraid it would just be too much for me - for both of us, maybe."

Ginny paused and sighed softly.

"And I know I could never have faced him again without you," she added. "You're everything he is not."

Harry moved closer to her.

"The reward was all mine," he said quietly. "But you faced Voldemort all by yourself. I was just there to catch you. I want to thank you, too, Ginny" he added, "not just for saving my life but for showing me that I wasn't alone."

Ginny shook her head.

"You were never alone, Harry. I'm just glad I was able to help you realize that."

Ginny and Harry stared into each other's eyes for a few moments. Then when it became clear there was nothing left for them to say that words could be used to express, they moved toward each other in a single moment. Ginny closed her eyes as she felt Harry draw his arms around her and his lips move onto hers. His tongue had just moved gently inside to touch hers when Harry suddenly drew away, spitting a stray strand of ginger-colored hair out of his mouth.

"Long hair gets in the way," said Ginny, giggling. "Maybe it would be better if I cut it."

Ginny giggled harder when she saw the mortified look on Harry's face. His horrified expression fell into a frown almost immediately as he realized he'd been had but then that thought, too, was swept from him as he sat there and listened to Ginny's infectious laughter. Once like so many things about her, it may have meant little to him, but now it seemed even more pleasing to his ears than phoenix song.

Ginny suddenly grew serious.

"I wasn't finished," she declared.

Ginny took care to keep the hair out of her face and she and Harry moved into a fast and passionate kiss. Every part of Harry seemed to reach into Ginny's body and tickle her soul. Blue sky and green earth spun around like a top as the two lovers tumbled down the hill, never once breaking their kiss. Once Ginny heard the soft sounds of moaning as she and Harry tried to reach even further into the depths of each other's passion. She didn't know whether the sound belonged to her or to Harry and found that it no longer mattered: the whole of their bond was much greater than even the sum of its parts. And just when it seemed it was no longer clear where Ginny ended and Harry began, a voice in the background rang out:

"Hey! No snogging at the Burrow!"

Harry and Ginny disentangled themselves in surprise and looked up to dizzily to see the world still spinning around them and the familiar forms of Ron and Hermione revolving with the landscape.

Once the world had settled back down, Harry could see that Ron was grinning from ear to ear, his face deeply flushed. Hermione also had a high pink color in her cheeks and rested her bushy hair against Ron's shoulder as she watched her two other best friends on the ground.

"Goddess knows it's never been done before," remarked Ginny, sitting up.

"We've been ordered to fetch you," said Ron.

Harry stood up followed by Ginny.

"Tonks has had a bit of an accident with tea," explained Hermione. "I think we're all needed to help sort things out so that we can eat some time tonight."

"You should have seen the look on Mum's face," added Ron.

Ginny and Harry smiled at one another.

"I suppose we'd better be down then," said Harry sighing. He started to walk forward when Ron's hand moved to his shoulder, stopping him.

"What?"

Harry was surprised to see that the smile Ron had worn on his face just a moment before had now vanished as he looked back between him and Ginny a little anxiously.

"Before we go in, Harry," he said seriously. "Th - there's some things that I wanted to say."

Harry eyed Ginny and Hermione a little cautiously.

"Maybe we should talk about this later," he said quietly.

"No," said Ron firmly. "I want to say this to you now while everyone's here. First, I still don't think there's anyone better for my little sister than my best friend." Ron's voice started to crack. "And secondly, Harry, I really didn't mean - "

But Harry started shaking his head.

"It doesn't matter about that now, mate. It happened and it's over. I've been thinking, too: I don't think we fought for each other's lives down there in that room just to give up our friendship over a few angry words."

Ron's face started to crease up. "Harry, I - "

Harry put his own hand on Ron's shoulder. He had heard enough. He didn't want Ron to embarrass himself, even in front of his closest friends.

"It's all right, mate," he said. "I know. Don't worry. We're okay, now."

Ron's face broke into a sheepish grin even as looked to be swallowing a lump in his throat with some difficulty. Hermione took hold of his hand as Ginny clutched Harry's. The four friends made their way down the hill, Ron taking his sister's other hand in the middle. As they drew closer, Ron was quick to point out the voluminous smoke coming from the front of the house where Tonks' outdoor cooking had taken a turn for the worse. But none of them seemed to mind this too much. Their quick and happy conversation seemed to blend in with the buzzing of insects and the songs of the birds around them.

And the sounds of the Burrow were filled once again with the laughter of children.

***

Draco Malfoy sat in his bedroom alone staring vacantly into space, the light from a single candle warming the side of his face. He heard but did not listen to the sharp pounding noise of the horizontal rain thrashing against his window and the sounds of his mother's wailing downstairs that seemed to ebb and flow just like the storm.

He had no desire to comfort her or even accompany her. On the contrary, Malfoy steeled himself to resist the disgust that seemed to boil over in his mind. At the end, she was pitiful and frail, just like his father had been. He wanted so very much to lead his kind away from this kind of weakness but he no longer saw how it could ever be done.

He tried with no success to take his mind away from his father's face at the trial that morning, downcast in shame as the sentence against him was read: life imprisonment in a solitary Azkaban cell. With the Dark Lord gone, Fudge had persuaded the Dementors to return to Azkaban; there seemed little hope of his escape this time. Malfoy wondered whether rotting alone, it would ever occur to his father how right Draco had been, how he should have listened to him sooner, how he should at least have involved him in their final plans rather than relegating him to guard duty at the kitchen entrance to the original room, ignorant of the Dark Lord's failures until it was already much too late. But he dismissed this fantasy almost soon as it had reached into his thoughts, realizing that it no longer much mattered one way or the other. It was too late for him now. It was too late for all of them.

Potter had been at the trial, of course, the Weasley girl holding onto him like she was grabbing an oversized teddy bear. Malfoy had no doubt that before too long they would be spewing out their own malformed, half-breed children, just like her brother and his revolting mudblood girlfriend. They had said nothing to Malfoy, of course, but Potter had tried to look noble, no doubt something Dumbledore had taught his little boy to do; the Weasley girl had just held onto Potter even more tightly while her eyes had narrowed in hatred.

She needn't have worried. She wanted to drive the final nail into the grave of their kind and she was going to do it. It was her mutant offspring that would rule the world to come, the stuff of true wizards fading only into legend, and then a legend only of their defeat. There was nothing Malfoy or anyone else could do to stop it.

Malfoy leaned back on his bed and sighed, wondering idly when he would finally crack and go downstairs to use his wand to silence his mother's whines, a last desperate act of self-respect. He had almost decided to get to his feet when his bedroom windows suddenly flew wide open.

Cursing loudly as the rain rushed in and showered his bed sheets, Malfoy went to the window to close it again when something made him stop.

There was a strange white light on the other side. Malfoy thought at first that it might be a cluster of fireflies dancing incongruously in the rain, then perhaps a strange sort of mist but it seemed to grow dense instead of thin out. Malfoy stared at it mesmerized, even as the rain flew out from the window and began to soak him. He wasn't sure why but he found himself thinking that the cloud or whatever it was had some kind of soul or consciousness.

And then it moved closer to the window, still in a single mass, not very much like a cloud and much more like something driven with its own mind.

Malfoy could not help but feel somewhat foolish as he fumbled around on his desk and took hold of his wand. Since there was no one around to see him be the fool, however, he grabbed onto it tightly. Part of him kept thinking he should simply shut the window and then take a long hot bath but he couldn't seem to bring himself to move any closer.

And that was when the voice came, a high-pitched silky voice that started inside his head, though Malfoy could not shake the feeling that it was really the voice of the cloud.

"You won't be needing your wand."

Malfoy froze and his wand dropped to the floor. He started to cry out but his voice caught in his throat.

"You needn't cry out, either," the voice said. "It will serve you no purpose."

"Wh - who are you?" asked Malfoy, part of him still feeling strange to be talking to a cloud in the middle of a storm.

"I am that which does not die, Draco," the voice hissed in his head. "But if you wish to speak in human terms, I can see in my memory a frightened little boy who screamed and ran away from me into the Forbidden Forest. But I have seen that little boy become a man now and I know that he will neither scream nor run away this time."

Malfoy fell to his knees as though cowering in the presence of a divine entity.

"My Lord," he said.

"You needn't bow before me, Draco. I come to you now not as your lord and master. It is too late for that. I am here only as your servant."

"And how could you possibly serve me?"

But even as he said this, Malfoy felt his fear subside and the sense of opportunism that had first found him sorted into Slytherin began working in his mind. Of course, Dumbledore hadn't really killed the Dark Lord, just like Potter hadn't when he was a baby. And now here he was, disembodied and helpless. And, of course, he had come to find the only Death Eater, the only true loyal Pure Blood in the wizarding world who wasn't already dead or sentenced to a life of living hell in Azkaban. And that also meant that he was now completely dependent on him. Malfoy allowed himself a smile. The much-feared Dark Lord had never condescended to associate with Malfoy while he was alive, dealing only with his groveling father. Perhaps now he would come to appreciate the error of his arrogance and fully understand what distinguished a pure-blood wizard.

"No doubt you are wondering how a half-breed such as myself could have anything to offer you?" the icy voice said in his head.

Malfoy stiffened.

"You can rest assured that my encounter with Dumbledore has taught me the error of my ways: there is no way that I could hope to match the full range of natural abilities that a pure-blood wizard such as yourself possesses. But consider, Draco, I still have a great deal of knowledge and skill. You've always envied Potter's ability to speak Parseltongue, I can see that. Think what you might achieve with my power, power which I am willing to give to you freely."

Malfoy didn't need to think. Whatever his misgivings about Lord Voldemort's pretensions to lead the wizarding world, he could not deny that he had been one of the greatest sorcerers of all time. With his knowledge in Malfoy's possession, there was no telling what he could achieve. There may yet be hope for wizard kind after all.

But Malfoy tried to keep his enthusiasm away from the edge of his conscious thoughts. It did not do to appear too eager in any negotiation. And Malfoy had a feeling that this negotiation would be the most important of his life.

He was not wrong.

"What do you have to gain from this agreement?" he asked the cloud suspiciously.

A high pitched hissing sound formed in Malfoy's head which he recognized a moment later as the sound of laughter.

"I only wish to finish the work that I have begun. I also desire a small portion of revenge on those who have reduced me to this state. I'm sure that you share no love loss for them, either. I hope you will decide quickly, Draco. We may not get another chance and I could not proceed without your agreement."

Malfoy smiled. Perhaps he and the Dark Lord had something in common after all. Yet still he hesitated, feeling the perspiration gather on his forehead even as he now stood entirely drenched in the rain. Who knew what effect the sudden force of the Dark Lord's thoughts and energies would have on his mind? Was this what the Dark Lord had proposed to Quirrell all those years ago?

Malfoy dismissed these thoughts from his mind. There was no reason for him to compare himself with that stuttering idiot and he only had Potter's word for all of the stories about them down in the depths of the castle. Hadn't he just been wallowing in despair only moments ago? Didn't he now have a hope where before he had found none? A true Slytherin recognized the deal of a lifetime when it was presented to him; he did let the opportunity slip between his fingers.

Unfortunately for him, Malfoy did not stop to consider that his desperation and despair was precisely why Voldemort had singled him out; that he had always found his most loyal servants in their darkest and most vulnerable hour; that he always used their weakness as his strength.

"How shall I show my agreement?" Malfoy asked.

"How does any true Slytherin show his agreement?" replied the voice.

Malfoy smiled and feeling slightly odd again, stretched out his hand. He forced himself to remain still as the cloud rushed through the window and straight toward him. It was only at the very last second before it plunged into him that Malfoy saw the mass take on the form of the thin hungry eyes and wide-open fangs of a snake.

Then he screamed.