At What Price?

Harry was aware that Marix had her hands against his chest and that she was pushing against him. He was also aware that her lips were soft and supple, and that her mouth drew him on like a moth to a flame. She smelled vaguely of warm spiced wine and cool evening breezes. One of his arms snaked about her waist, his other brought his hand up and he ran it across the smooth skin of her cheek and into her thick, heavy hair. Harry could feel the trembling in his knees, and was aware that she seemed to be melting against him. The fight had gone out of her arms, which now pulled him closer and ran fingers through his hair. Every inch of his body was alive, and his skin tingled. He felt he couldn't be close enough to her and wrapped both arms around her tightly.

She grabbed his hair and pulled his head back sharply. Their kiss broke and he felt desolate for its loss. "Harry," she said breathlessly, "we can't do this." He reached up and took hold of her hands, then pulled them down to his sides. Her fingers were intertwined with his and he held them firmly. Again, he pressed his lips to hers, urgently and desperately. Her breath was hot in his mouth and her lips tasted of the sweet tea that Molly made.

His lips lunged for her again, and she caught him with her own. They kissed deeply. In the depths of that kiss, she found how to stop him, but she couldn't find the will. There was something about him, something about the Lion in him that she desperately wanted. Then she saw it, the way out. She broke the kiss a third time. With a struggle, she steadied her voice and spoke to him. "Lion, what makes you think I want anything more than they do?" She suppressed the sick feeling that was rising up from her stomach as she said it. She just hoped she could get the words out before the tears and self-hatred came and gave away the truth. "Maybe instead of The Boy who Lived, I want the Lion in Darkness." She was sure it would work... and it did with a devastating effect.

Harry stumbled back as though someone had hit him with a shovel. His eyes looked at her incredulously, then betrayal and heartbreak overcame his face and his head drooped. Marix wondered in horror what she had done. Harry looked crushed, as though all the illusions of life had been stripped from him in that moment. He collapsed to the ground and sat there staring, unseeing, out at the setting sun. She could see the tears in his eyes. She could feel tears burning her own eyes. She hated herself for speaking the lie. The wave of self-loathing at actually having done it threatened to drown her, but she knew she had to do it. Harry was much too young, even though he was mature beyond his years. There were lines she would not cross. She had made that promise to herself years ago. She would never see that line crossed again.

Harry stared out at the sinking sun; its searing light burning his eyes. Black circles and green circles danced in front of his eyelids, superimposing themselves upon the irises of his eyes. His mind was numb, he was beyond thought or care, but his body protected itself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, her words mocked him again and again, What makes you think I want anything more than they do? Harry wanted to believe that she was different and that he was more than just The Boy who Lived. He wanted more than anything to believe that he was more than just an accident or a misfired spell. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to have been just another victim of Voldemort's wand. He had no wish to be The Boy who Lived.

"Hermione, can I see you for a moment?" Her voice was shaky. Everyone half rose from their seats, Marix waved Molly and Arthur back down. Hermione came over, as did Ron. "Ron, Harry needs you right now. Can you go check on him?" Her voice was choked with tears, but very quiet so that no one beyond the three would hear. "Hermione, can you come upstairs with me please?" Ron looked at her quizzically, he and Hermione both noting the streaks of tears, the disheveled clothing, the smeared lipstick, and the tangled hair. A murderous rage overtook Ron as he headed out the back door. Hermione followed Marix up the stairs, afraid of what she was going to hear.

Marix was staying in Percy's old room, though it was distinctly her own now. She entered it, followed by Hermione, and then closed the door. Marix took a deep breath, tears fell from her eyes, and her voice was full and choked. "Hermione, something awful has happened." Hermione gasped. It was too horrible to believe. Harry would never hurt anyone like that. Marix noted the horrified expression on Hermione's face and realize what she must be thinking. "No Hermione, it's not that awful." Hermione breathed out a huge sigh of relief but she still looked suspicious.

"What is it then, Marix. Is everyone OK?" She sounded worried, almost panicked. "Did Harry do anything?' Her stress on the last word was unmistakable.

"Harry is never going to speak to me again, he's probably going to hate me forever. Physically though, everyone is fine." She struggled, the tears were coming and she had to tell Hermione before they overcame her. Suddenly there was a loud crash outside as something glass broke. Ron could be heard yelling. Marix jumped up, "Oh shit," she muttered as she headed down the stairs, Hermione hot on her heels.

"What the hell did you do to her?" Ron was yelling at Harry. "You bastard, I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Ron yanked Harry up off the broken glass topped picnic table. Harry put up no fight. Ron slammed him into the back door causing the glass there to break away as well. Arthur Weasley threw the back door open just in time to see Ron's fist connect with Harry's nose in a splatter of blood. He noticed that Ron had still had a hold on Harry's shirt. He remembered his twin sister teaching him that the disarming spell had the effect of removing any object from a person's hand and it was not unusual for it to throw the offender back several feet. He leveled his wand.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron and Harry flew ten feet through the air to land about five feet apart. Ron was getting to his feet. Arthur pointed his wand at his youngest son, "Petrificus Totalus!" Ron's body locked into position, and then fell to the ground. Molly burst past Arthur and out the door. She fell to the ground between them, trying to check both boys simultaneously. Marix ran past him next and went out and stopped behind Molly, torn as to which one she should see to first. Hermione was in the same predicament. Finally, Arthur walked over and helped Harry sit up. Hermione could see the murderous look in Ron's eyes as he watched Harry, the fire in his eyes barely kept under check. Hermione shivered... if looks could kill...

"Harry, are you OK?" Harry turned his head in Arthur's direction. His eyes were bloodshot and red rimmed. They were also starting to bruise. His nose sat at an odd angle; blood flowed from it freely. Arthur pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and used it to staunch the flow. Harry stared at him blankly. Arthur looked at Ron, then at Marix, then back at Harry.

"Who wants to tell me what in the name of Merlin's Owl is going on here." There was no mistaking the controlled anger in Arthur's voice. He leveled his gaze on Marix and she appeared to squirm under his scrutiny. "Marix, I would hate for this to get any worse than it already is, you'd better tell me what happened since you seem to be at the center of this storm." His voice was even, as though he was trying to convince her that it was in her own best interest. In a detached way, Marix thought he sounded like a policeman, trying to get a confession.

Marix didn't want to talk about this. It was horrible; she couldn't believe it had happened. She looked at Arthur, and wondered how she could betray the family that had given her so much in such a short time. She thought about how Molly fussed over her and how Arthur treated her with respect, something she had never received from any other man. She thought about how Ginny had taken her in like a sister, and how Ron looked out for her. They were more than just the family of a student; they had virtually adopted her into their own family. They were the family she lost when her mother was taken away; she owed them better than this. After a few seconds, Marix finally responded. "Let's get the boys in the house and then I'll explain as much as I can." Her voice sounded defeated.

They took Harry in first, since Ron wasn't going anywhere under his own power. Molly stayed with Harry, and after several healing charms, he looked a little better. Inside however, Harry had never in his entire life been as miserable as he was at that moment. This was betrayal beyond anything he could have imagined. He had done everything he could to express his desire for her, how could she just throw him away like that? How could she be just like every other woman he knew, he had been so sure she was different. All the smiles and nods of encouragement, the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn't watching. Surely, she liked him as well, why had she led him on like that if she didn't? He just thought again of her hateful words and retreated as far from them as he could.

It had taken Arthur, Hermione, and Marix to get Ron to come in and sit down in the living room without killing Harry first. Once he was in a chair, Hermione sat in his lap. She did this as much to keep him in place as to comfort him. Molly continued to sit with Harry; Arthur sat on the couch with them. Marix sat on the floor across from them. Marix looked up at Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, her eyes were pleading, looking for a way out of this. He was the golden boy, he was Harry Potter. He was almost another son in their house. She was sure that they would simply throw her out for doing something so despicable.

Arthur sensed Marix' resistance. "Marix," His voice was solid and unwavering; he didn't seem to be mad, only concerned, "you are the only one who can tell me what happened."

After a long moment, she responded. "Harry kissed me," Marix began in a soft tone. Ron tried to get up, fire blazing in his eyes but Hermione made sure he didn't. "I tried to stop him, but the more he kissed me the less I could resist." She thought she heard a cough that sounded like tramp come from Molly, she ignored it. "I finally came to my senses and made him stop. The only way I could do it though was to say something awful to him." She couldn't meet Harry's eyes as the tears flowed from both people involved. Hermione was the first to speak.

"That was nice and condensed. You want to give us the full version now? The one that explains why Harry hasn't said two words and why Ron was trying to kill him." Her eyes were like ice; her voice was just a little colder. Nobody hurt her boys, nobody... least of all this... fortuneteller.

"Accio Rose", Marix held up her hand and the crystal flower Harry had given her zoomed into it, complete with tissue paper wrapping. She opened it and laid it on the table. "This is the gift that Harry gave me, the Rose in Winter. It is also what he called me." She took a deep breath. "We had a fight about it upstairs. There is no way he could have known that I was called that as a child. He thought he was being cute, but that name has a great deal of meaning to me. When I was born, the rose bush outside my room bloomed," she paused, "in the dead of January." Molly gasped, as did Ron. Both had studied Divination and understood the power of omens like that.

"I was twelve when my mother was imprisoned for being a witch. I was sent to an orphanage. After a short time there I ran away and joined the Vistani, a tribe of travelling gypsies." Her voice got quiet, as though she was trying to avoid the subject she was talking about. "I had a dark and troubled past and none of their men wanted me around for very long." Molly put her hand to her throat; she could only guess the depths of what was being alluded to here. "I learned to read the cards from the wise woman. As soon as I knew enough, I fled." Marix paused and took a deep breath; she tried to look at Harry, but couldn't.

"Harry is the first man to show me any kindness and affection. You have all treated me well, and I am grateful for that, but Harry saw me as a woman, and he desired me." She shifted uncomfortably under Arthur's stern gaze, a blush staining her cheek. "I also see the Lion in him. It gives him strength and power. To my eyes, he is much older than the boy you see. When we went walking, he asked me about the Lion. I searched the depths of his soul, trying to decide how much to tell him. I don't know what he saw, but he leaned in and kissed me." Marix stopped suddenly. Ron was still staring daggers of hatred at Harry.

Marix shifted uncomfortably. She didn't want to be the cause of anything between these two friends. Molly spoke now, "Go on dear, you'll feel better if you tell me the rest of it." Molly's voice was soothing, quiet and calm, the voice of a trained mother. Marix remembered her own mother's voice sounding much the same. With a deep breath, she steeled herself for what was coming.

"I put my hands up to stop him. I knew we couldn't continue, so I broke the kiss and told him we couldn't. He took hold of my hands and kissed me again. I broke it off again. I tried to explain to him but...." She looked up; the tears streaming down her own face were as heavy as they had ever been. Harry's eyes just looked hurt and far away. He turned his head as she looked at him.

"He shushed me, and then explained that he hates the girls at his school because they all see him as The Boy who Lived. He feels that none of them can see beyond that. He told me that I was the first woman he had ever wanted, that he ever felt anything for. Then he kissed me again, but he had given me the key to breaking the spell. I used that key because I made a promise to myself long ago that what was happening would never happen again if I could stop it."

"What do you mean?" Hermione interrupted, not really sure what Marix meant.

"I mean that an adult was taking advantage of a child." Marix whispered softly.

Molly gasped and silent tears trickled from her blue eyes as the full meaning hit her. Arthur reached over and took his wife's hand. Hermione sat in shocked silence, then buried her head in Ron's shoulder as the horror of the meaning assaulted her. Ron could no longer look at either Harry or Marix.

"I broke the kiss and called him The Lion in Darkness."

"You've been calling him that all weekend." Arthur's voice seemed questioning.

"The first two times he kissed me, I called him Harry. Then I broke his heart. I told him that I was drawn to him because he was The Lion in Darkness. I told him I was kissing the Lion, not him. In that moment I became every girl he hates." Marix was unable to continue talking at that point; she buried her head in her hands and wept.

Nobody moved for long moments. Finally, Molly rose and went to Marix. Molly wrapped her arms around Marix and comforted her. Harry felt betrayed by the action. Arthur looked at Ron, whose eyes were now downcast.

"Ron, you want to tell me what possessed you to go out there and try to kill your best friend?" Arthur's voice was stern, but not angry.

Ron's voice was hurt and angry. "When Marix came in the house her makeup was smeared, her clothes were askew, her hair was tangled, and she was crying. I assumed the worst. I had warned Harry earlier to keep his longing glances away from Marix. He told me to mind my own business. When I saw her like that, I figured he had just given in to whatever it was that was driving him. For what I thought he had done, he deserved no less than the worst I could do to him. She's like family to me. What made it worse, is that Harry is too." Ron's look darkened as his voice dropped. "Some things are unforgivable though."

Arthur looked at him critically. "You know what they say about assuming. I won't elaborate." Arthur didn't raise his voice when he spoke again, he didn't need to. "Right now I think I want everybody separated until I figure out what I am going to do here. Harry go on up to Fred and George's old room. Marix you stay down here. Ron, Hermione, separate rooms." Nobody moved at first, Arthur raised his voice, "Now." The room cleared, Molly led Marix out to the kitchen. Arthur sat down in his favorite chair and stared darkly into the fire.

After the storms of weeping passed, Arthur rose and went to the kitchen. Marix was a disheveled wreck. Molly hovered near her, patting her hand reassuringly. Marix looked up at Arthur and he smiled at her gently, as if she might break if he frowned. It had been almost thirty years since he had dealt with anything this emotionally wracking, maybe with the exception of Michael's death. He didn't relish what had to be done. Arthur sat down opposite Marix at the kitchen table after getting himself a cup of black coffee. She looked at him, fear and trepidation evident in her eyes. Arthur looked into them; he had seen that look before, in the eyes of his own children. Some things, it seemed, never changed.

"Marix, what is it you aren't telling me?" His voice was gentle, but as Marix looked into his face she knew he would brook no foolishness from her, though he wasn't judging her.

"Arthur," she began hesitantly. "Arthur, I... I lied to him." Within her, the floodgates burst and suddenly she wanted nothing more to confess everything. She wanted Arthur to know, to understand, to make everything right. "I lied to him so that I could sleep at night. I lied to him because I couldn't face those demons again. He was like a drug in my system. The more he wanted me, the less I could resist him. I was like a moth drawn to the flame. When he kissed me, it scorched my soul. When he told me that I was the first woman he ever wanted it was like being told I had created day and night. I don't know what it is about him, but when he turned his attention on me, all I wanted was more of it. It's wrong, I know it is, but I couldn't fight it. The worst part is, I didn't want to fight it." Tears began to fall from her dark eyes again as she stared at an old scar on the table. She couldn't bear to look at Arthur or Molly, to see the disappointment she was sure was written across their faces. She spoke in a sad, quiet voice. "I'll leave in the morning. I know what I did was wrong, and you don't need somebody like that in your house. I'm sorry I let you down." She began to push back from the table. Molly's foot stopped the chair before it had moved two inches.

"Marix," Molly's voice was at once stern and compassionate, "you won't be going anywhere. You committed to teaching Ron the ways of Divination, I mean to hold you to it." There was more to it than that, but Molly wouldn't say anything else until she talked to Arthur. Theirs was a relationship built on trust and understanding, neither laid down the law without consulting the other first. This was only a stopgap measure, but Arthur's face said that he agreed with her.

Marix nodded mutely at Molly's strict tone. She had indeed agreed to teach Ron, the contract between them was binding and it was a question of honor. Marix thought about how ironic it was that her honor kept her bound here, yet the same honor had failed to keep her from harm's way. Marix rose silently from her chair. "Good-night Arthur, goodnight Molly. Thank you both." Her voice was quiet and heartfelt. She turned and left the kitchen.

Arthur looked up at his wife expectantly, hoping for some answers. "Arthur, she stays because Ron needs the help if he's going to develop his talents. That Trelawney woman is worthless, always has been." Molly's face softened, "Besides Arthur, that girl hasn't had any family in twenty years, and the things she's been through. I don't think I could live with myself if I kicked her out."

"What about Harry?" Arthur looked down into his coffee cup and swirled the dregs that were there.

"I don't know. I feel terrible; he's like a son to me. Oh Arthur," she despaired. Molly flung herself down in the chair next to him. Arthur stood and put his hands on her shoulders.

"I don't think Marix should go with you tomorrow." Arthur said it in a soft voice, one that wouldn't carry very far. "The real problem is going to be Ron and Harry. Ron was way out of line and for pretty flimsy reasons, I don't know if Harry's just going to forgive that. Ron's pride isn't going to help that either, he was sure he was in the right. It's almost like William and Christopher..." Arthur's voice trailed off as he remembered the fights between his long dead brothers. "I just hope Hermione can buffer them out." His voice wasn't very hopeful.

"I hope so too." Molly leaned her head against her husband's hand. They stayed like that for a little while, until the new alarm announced to the kitchen that Ginny was at the door with a stranger. Arthur opened the door before their kissing passed the innocent-good-night-kiss stage. Jared was a polite young man, but Arthur made it clear that now was not a good time to visit. Ginny wanted to know what was going on, but her father made it substantially clear that she was to go to her room and not bother anyone else. Ginny was glad that Hermione was staying in her room, at least then she could find out what was going on.

After Ginny had gone upstairs, Arthur went back into the kitchen to sit with his wife in comfortable silence for a while; then they too went upstairs. Arthur knocked on Ginny's door and told the girls to go to bed. He was glad Ginny had come home on time; it had been the one thing that went well all night. As was his habit, he opened the other doors and looked in on everybody. Without thinking he even opened Marix' door. She looked up at him from the desk where sat, staring into her crystal rose.

"Yes Arthur?" Her voice startled him. He noted that her face was a wreck, her eyes were bloodshot, and her hair was still a tangled mess.

"I'm sorry," he answered quickly, a little embarrassed, "old habit, looking in all my kids before I go to bed." She smiled at him, a wan little smile. He saw fresh tears well up in her eyes and his heart went out to her. She looked so young and so fragile sitting there, her broken heart in tatters on her sleeve. He walked over to her and took the rose from her hand, gently setting it down on the desk. He smoothed her hair back from her face then leaned down and placed a fatherly kiss on top of her head. "Go to sleep Pumpkin, everything will look better in the morning." As he kissed her, he felt her shudder. The sound of her sorrowful shuddered breathing was frail in the hollowness of the room.

"Arthur, it was so hard," she managed between quiet sobs, ashamed of them but being unable to stop her emotions now that they had come out in the open. "Now he hates me and I can't even tell him the truth."

"I know Pumpkin, I know. It couldn't be helped." He patted her back and rubbed his hand across her shoulder blades. "Doing the right thing isn't always easy, but you did it. I'm proud of you for being strong enough to do that." Arthur kissed her head again, then turned and went out in to the hall, closing her door behind him. Comforting Marix hadn't been a conscious decision; it was just what he did. Molly watched him from across the hall, standing in the doorway of their room.

"Arthur, I think that was about the sweetest thing I have ever seen in my entire life." There was deep affection for her husband in her eyes. She took him by the hand and hugged him tightly. "Come to bed Arthur, it will all look different in the morning." She smiled at him and closed the door behind them.

---------------------

Harry lay in bed for a long time after waking. The rising sun was now casting coppery light through the window; it had still been dark still when he woke. Harry crawled out of bed and headed down the hall, thinking he should have changed into his pajamas before he went to bed as he looked at the wrinkles in his dark blue shirt. As he passed Ron's door, he looked at it darkly remembering the look in Ron's eyes the previous night. He gave serious consideration to casting a rusting charm on the doorknob. Across the hall, a door opened and Ginny padded out into the hallway as well. Her hair was a mess, but her blue eyes were bright as she looked at him. Without really considering it, she went to him and hugged him. "I'm so sorry Harry." She leaned into his chest and squeezed him tightly. Harry, not quite sure what to do, put his arms around her as well.

"Thanks Gin." They stood like that for a couple of minutes, neither one really quite sure what to do or say next. Ginny wondered to herself what she was doing. She was trying to get over Harry and this type of embrace was definitely not the best way to go about doing so. She nestled into his chest a little more. How many times had she wondered what this would be like? How many nights had she lain in bed and thought about this scenario and all the things she would do and say? None of them had ever been quite like this, the tenderness and... companionship. In the end, she opted to just luxuriate in the warmth of his presence; the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat in her ear.

Harry was numb, and the possible implications of standing here in the hallway holding Ginny against him in the early morning hours never even occurred to him. She was warm and soft and her messy red hair tickled his nose. He moved his head so that his chin rested on top of her head amongst the soft curls. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a voice told him this was a dangerous place to be. Ginny wanted him for all the wrong reasons and basking in her glow would make it harder for her to get over him. He shunted the voice away, content to ride out the storms of emotion right where he was, even if only for a few minutes.

Ron lay in his bed replaying the events of the night before. He knew he had over reacted. In his defense though, Harry had given him just cause to be suspicious and the look in Marix' eyes had nearly destroyed him. It pained him to think of what he had done to Harry, he and Harry were as close as brothers, probably even closer. "Maybe if I go apologize to him he'll understand." Ron thought about it after he said it. Maybe, maybe not. Ron thought back to their fight at the beginning of their fourth year. That had been a rough time. It had been downright painful. Sure, he would still have Hermione, but to be without Harry was almost inconceivable. They had been the best of friends ever since their first awkward meeting on the Hogwarts Express. He swung out of bed and walked softly to the door of his room, hoping Harry would be awake and calm enough to talk. He reached for the door handle with no conception of what was on the other side.

As Ron touched the doorknob, his mind's eye was filled with a vision of matronly woman in a magnificent crown of heart shaped stones. Opposite her stood a man with three swords in his belt and a fourth in his hand, which was streaked with blood. On the ground between them were five young men; each had been pierced through the heart. Some of the bodies were armed, some were not. Ron shook off the vision and opened the door. When he saw what was beyond the door, his vision went red and all he saw was betrayal. Every thought of apologizing or even talking calmly flew out of his mind. Fire filled his gaze again.

"First my teacher, now my sister. Who's next, my girlfriend, Hermione?" The crescendo of his voice stood in stark contrast to the quiet stillness of the hall. "Is nothing sacred to you?" Ron was livid. It wasn't enough that Harry would come in and try to force himself on Marix; but now that he was done with her, he was going to destroy Ginny's heart too.

Ginny spun out of Harry's arms and turned on her brother, "Fuck you, Ron! You don't even care. He's your best friend and you don't even care about his feelings!" Harry stepped in front of Ginny and faced Ron.

Harry's eyes sparkled a dangerous green as he pulled himself up and clenched his fists. "Want to try it again Ron, this time I won't make it so easy." Harry leapt at Ron, driving him backward into the doorframe. Ron grunted with the impact. Then he wrapped his arms around Harry's head and wrenched sideways throwing them both across the hall and through the opposite door, shattering the doorknob and splintering the wood. Hermione jumped as the two combatants smashed through the door and into the room she and Ginny were sharing. She screamed as Harry drove Ron into a dresser causing several picture frames to fall and break. Ron released one arm from around Harry's head and punched him. Harry took advantage of the loosened grip and stood upright, his left fist rocketed forward and connected with Ron's jaw. Ron staggered back into the hall, dazed. Harry grabbed him and threw him into the door next to Ginny's. It also burst open to reveal Marix hastily pulling on a bathrobe over her nightgown.

Across the hall, Arthur swung the door of his own room open to take in the sight before him. He moved forward to grab Harry so he could separate the boys. Ron drove forward into Harry and then into Arthur, the three of them smashing into the wall between Ron's door and his parent's. Molly reached out and grabbed Ron by the hair; Harry punched Ron in the nose with a sickeningly wet crunch. Ron's mother let go reflexively. Ron dove forward and tackled Harry, driving him to the floor. Harry brought up a knee and caught Ron in the ribs. Ron smashed his head forward into Harry's jaw.

"Stupefy!" "Expelliarmus!" "Petrificus Totalus!" "Confundus!" "Impedimenta!" Suddenly the hallway was full of multicolored light as all of the noncombatants cast at once in an attempt to stop the battle. The effect was that Ron was hurled into the air and landed unconscious in Ginny's doorway. Harry could neither move nor think straight, and even if he could move his arms wouldn't respond.

"What in the name of Morgan LeFay has gotten into you two?' Arthur stared at his son and then at Harry. "Will somebody explain to me what under the Seven Seals is going on here!" Everybody stopped to look at Arthur, he was seething mad. His wand still extended toward Harry, his eyes on his son. He swept over the assembled crowd. "Well?" His voice was very loud in the confined hallway. There was a long silence in which the only sound was Arthur's ragged breathing and Ron's groaning. He looked at his daughter.

"Ginny, come into my room please." There was no request in his voice. Ginny walked to her father's room. "Whoever cast the body bind, let Harry out of it." He turned and followed his daughter into his room and closed the door behind him.

"What in the Nine Hells just happened out there?" Arthur's voice rumbled like a distant avalanche. Ginny knew this was trouble, she had never heard her father curse this much before.

"I was giving Harry a hug. That minx broke his heart and he had no one to go to. I felt awful for him. Then Ron opens the door," Ginny's voice got derisive and snide, "and you can see what kind of friend he is to Harry." Her mouth was now formed into an open sneer, directed towards her brother.

Arthur slapped Ginny. The sound was a like a gunshot. He had not hit her hard... but still... Ginny stared at her father in horror. She could not remember a time in sixteen years when her father had ever raised his hand against her.

Molly was checking on Ron who appeared to be none the worse, save the bloody nose and a fat lip, after an Enervate spell. Marix hovered expectantly over Harry who looked at her with an expression that bordered somewhere between sorrow and contempt. Hermione stood in the middle of the hall, first stepping towards one boy, then the other, unable to decide. Harry stood then and went to the room where his stuff was. He came back out carrying his backpack. He stopped, looking at Ron as though he would say something. He thought better of it and ran down the stairs. Marix looked at Hermione, a pained and begging expression on her face. Hermione turned and ran down the stairs after him, calling his name.

"Harry, wait." Her voice was pleading, Harry stopped in front of the fireplace, reaching into the jar of Floo powder. He did not look at her.

"Apparently I was wrong, he's already seduced you away from me." Arthur yanked his son up off the floor as Hermione stepped toward Ron, raising her arm. She was angry, not only for what Ron said, but because the opportunity to lash out against him had now been stolen from her.

Arthur grabbed Ron by the front of his shirt and shook him as he looked him squarely in the face. His voice was the quiet calm of a hurricane's eye. "For somebody who talks about loyalty and friendship as much as you do, you sure don't understand it very well. You have no idea what betrayal is Ronald Arthur Weasley. I suggest you think long and hard about what all those things mean before you turn on anyone else in this house." The eye of the hurricane fell away and Arthur's voice got dangerous. "Now get out of my sight." He released Ron's shirt with a shove towards his son's room. Taking a deep breath he turned to Hermione, Molly had retreated to her room with Ginny and Marix stood looking down the stairs.

"Sugar," Arthur had pet names for each of the girls, Hermione's was Sugar, "I'm sorry about all this. I think it might be best if you went home though. It's been a pretty awful night and until Ron figures out what he's doing, I don't want him saying something that will hurt you, or worse." He came forward and gave her a hug complete with a fatherly kiss on the head. Hermione hugged him and surrendered to his suggestion, not because she agreed with him, but because she loved him and knew he was doing what he thought best.

"Yes dad." Arthur had gone from being Mr. Weasley to Dad over the previous summer. He was no replacement for her own dad, whom she loved very much; but calling him Mr. Weasley just seemed too formal, especially considering how close she was to all the Weasley family. In that moment though, she truly felt the meaning of the word. As she hugged him, she realized that Ron really did have a great deal of his father in him, and for it she was glad. It held the promise of something special, of something solid, provided he didn't throw it all away first.

Hermione went back to Ginny's room and closed the door, which didn't latch now and swung back open. Hermione picked up her wand, "Reparo," and the latch repaired itself. She looked at the wand, then at the door. She looked at Ron's closed door and thought of Harry. "If only," she muttered, then closed the door.

Arthur turned to Marix, who was now looking at Ron's door expectantly, "Morning Pumpkin." His voice was not bright, nor was it commanding, it simply was. "Leave him alone for now. He's done enough damage for one day." Arthur sighed heavily and headed for his own room, he had to go face the horror of what he had done. Ginny sat on the edge of his bed crying in her mother's arms. Arthur looked at his wife and mouthed 'Is she OK?' Molly laid Ginny down on the bed and went to Arthur.

"Arthur, you have never raised your hand against her, she's devastated. I must say I am more than a little shocked myself. Are you really that strung out over this?" Molly's voice was concerned for her husband. It was a rare thing that she had to be truly concerned for Arthur except when he was working too hard. She gave no resistance as he pulled her into his warm embrace. He rested his cheek against his wife's thick hair and spoke as he looked out the window.

"I can't go through this again." Molly was, at first, confused by her husband's words. Then she realized what he was talking about. With a shudder, she thought of the betrayals of which Arthur spoke. It had been twenty-eight years since they had walked in to this house and seen what real betrayal looked like. It had been ten years since they had even spoken of it, maybe longer. Arthur's voice intruded on her reverie, she was thankful for that.

"Ginny, Sweetheart." She shifted uncomfortably under his hand. "Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I'm not mad at you, it was just what you said." His voice was very quiet, but could still be heard easily in the stillness of the room. Ginny turned and looked at him. Her eyes were filled with tears and her crying had ravaged her face. It wrenched his heart. She lifted her head a little, as she looked at him.

"How could you, after what Ron did?" Tears and anguish choked her voice. "He left Harry all alone. Somebody had to be there for him."

"This wasn't about Harry and Ron." As Arthur reached out to wipe away his daughter's tears, she flinched again. "This was about betrayal. You've never seen what real betrayal looks like. I would give anything to make sure you don't, but this is how it starts. It starts with fighting between loved ones and friends. In the end, nothing is sacred." Arthur's eyes were far away and deeply troubled. Molly came over and put her hand on his shoulder as she remembered the stories and thought of the dark times before they were married. Ginny could sense the depths of what her father was talking about without knowing what it was. His normally steady hand trembled against her cheek.

Ginny turned her head and kissed the palm of her father's hand, then sat up and gave him a hug. "Daddy," was all she could manage in her shaky voice. She didn't know exactly what her father was talking about, but given the way it was affecting him she didn't want to know either. He embraced her paternally, and then kissed her cheek. She flinched away, not out of fear, but because the spot he kissed was the same he had slapped, and it still stung.

"I'm sorry Sweetheart. Can you forgive me?" Her father was still the same man he had always been; firm, honest, and deeply loving. She kissed his cheek.

"Yes." She rose from the bed and padded silently out of the room. As she closed the door, she noticed her mother embracing her father closely, holding his head against her chest as his body shuddered. Ginny looked across the hall at Marix' closed door. Her eyes began to burn with a fire whose intensity could only be matched by the anger in her voice. "Bitch, I'll get you for this." Ginny swore it under her breath with a vengeance that was almost holy.

-------------------------

Harry stepped through Mrs. Figg's fireplace still wearing the same blood and grass stained clothes he had been wearing Sunday. He was confused and angry. He ached all over from the two fights, his heart hurt more though. As he stepped out of the fireplace he stepped on Ginger's tail, she let out a shriek that would wake the dead then bolted out of the living room. At the table where she had been sitting, perusing a letter from Dumbledore, Mrs. Figg stood up.

"Harry?" She was surprised by his arrival; his appearance did nothing to quiet her apprehension. "I wasn't expecting you for another ten hours or so." Harry turned and looked at her. She noted that there was a bruise on his forehead and that there was blood on his lips. "Is everything OK?" She wondered as she asked it why people always insisted on asking that question. Of course everything wasn't okay, Harry was bleeding and home ten hours early looking like he'd slept in his clothes.

"I'm," Harry's bottom lip began to tremble and he could feel it coming. The anger had left him and all that was left now was pain. He dropped his bags and stumbled to the dining room table. Mrs. Figg got up and went to the chair he had fallen into. He put his head down on the table and cried tears of anguish and heartbreak. Mrs. Figg put a hand on his back and patted him. She didn't deal well with emotional crisis. She could give advice till the cows came home. She could analyze a situation and determine who or what was at fault. She could teach all the ways to deal with any mundane, and some not so mundane, problems that would come up. However, she had never been good at dealing with emotions, especially other people's.

"There, there Harry. Get it all out. It'll be OK." She realized as she was saying them just how stupid and meaningless the platitudes were, but she didn't know what else to do or say. In time, the storm of emotions passed and Mrs. Figg had prepared some tea. Tea calmed the nerves and helped her think clearly, she hoped it did the same for Harry. When he had calmed enough to speak again, she asked him the inevitable question.

"What happened Harry?" Her voice was concerned, but perhaps a little detached.

"Love is highly over rated." Harry made the statement with a bitter tone. "It's just another opportunity for somebody to screw up your life." Mrs. Figg was interested by this assessment. It was the statement of person who had seen the worst that love could offer, and might not care to look again. Harry continued on without noticing the look that Mrs. Figg gave him. "You pour out your heart to someone because you think they feel the same way you do, then you find out their interest in you is because your parents are dead, or because you have a scar, or because you fulfill some worthless prophecy. They don't really care about you, they care about what you can give them. Friends are like that too. They want what they want, with no care about what you want. And if you try to get what you want, they just beat you down till you give up. Harry Potter is here to make everyone else happy and safe, to Hell with what I want."

Mrs. Figg was unsure how to continue here, Harry was on the verge of revealing something important, but she was hesitant to draw it out. "What is it you want Harry?"

"I thought I wanted Marix. I thought she was beautiful. Beauty is only skin deep though, ugly is part of the soul." Harry's hands trembled slightly as he held his teacup; he put his hands down flat on the table to stop it. "More than anything though, I want this weekend to never have happened, then Ron and I could be friends again." The lights of understanding went on for Mrs. Figg.

"What happened between you and Ron?" This was a major concern. Harry and Ron were closer than any brothers; and if Harry and Ron fell apart, then Harry also lost Hermione. Then he would be alone. As Mrs. Figg examined this thought clinically she could see certain advantages, but she wasn't so cold as to think that they were more legitimate than friendship.

"He's being a prat." Harry stared darkly into his teacup, not offering any more information. She was going to have to pull this out of him kicking and screaming.

"That was a good answer Harry." Her tone was perhaps a bit more sarcastic than she intended. "That just clears it right up. Ron's being a prat, therefore you've lost your best friend in the world and the damage is irreparable." She made a conscious effort to remove the bite from her tone as well as the sarcasm. "You want to try again?"

"Not really. I don't want to think about it right now. What I need right now is a good distraction, maybe I could summon Voldemort and we could just duke it out right here." Mrs. Figg smiled to herself. If nothing else, she could always count on Harry to give her the answer she needed, even if he didn't know it.

"Very well, who is the founder of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"What was that?" Harry looked at her in utter confusion.

"Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it. Now pay attention." She watched him look at her and his eyes seemed a little out of focus. "Who was the founder of the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Godric Gryffindor," he answered hesitantly.

"Actually, that's a misnomer. He is our patron, he directed Rowena Ravenclaw to create The Order. She was unable to complete the job on her own and in her time. Our founder is actually Helga Hufflepuff."

Harry's eyes were starting to focus a little more. "I never knew that."

"Of course you didn't, only Order members know that. Next question, you think that a door may be enchanted or cursed. How do you find out if it is before you open it?" Harry considered the question for a moment.

"Revelios Incantatem, the revealing charm." Harry became more alert as his brain began to shed the wet blankets of sorrow and pain and anger.

"You're searching a room, there's a scratching sound coming from the closet. You open the closet and there stands a Dementor. What do you do?"

"Concentrate on a happy memory and cast a Patronus charm." Harry added wryly, "Right after I fall unconscious and hear my parents scream." Harry seemed to be sinking back.

"Wrong!" Mrs. Figg brought her hand down flat on the table with a loud smack. Harry jumped. "If there was a Dementor in the room, you would have known it when you walked in. Now what do you do?"

Harry considered the problem for a long moment. He was fairly certain that the closet was somehow important. He thought back to all the times he had encountered Dementors, or thought he had. Then it hit him. "If it's in a closet its probably a Boggart, in which case I would picture it in Petunia's housecoat and say Riddikulus and it would disappear." Harry now listened very intently. This quizzing went on through much of the morning and by noon, Harry was feeling better. The questions had gotten progressively harder and by the time they stopped his brain hurt, but it kept him from thinking about the weekend.

He spent the afternoon making a series of very complex potions that required every ounce of concentration he could muster. It had been a blessing, because when he was done with them, it was time for him to clean up and head for home. As he was gathering the last of his stuff, Mrs. Figg questioned him.

"Harry, does Petunia know about tomorrow yet?"

Harry tied his bag shut and hefted it to his shoulder. "Yes, I told her Thursday night that plans had changed. When she questioned me about it I told her that my Headmaster needed me for a special ceremony. When I told her the seers said it had to be done on my birthday she clammed up and stopped asking questions." Harry smiled as he thought about Petunia's reaction to his comments about seers and prophecy. It wasn't exactly true, but he had gotten the effect he wanted.

"Something funny Harry?" Mrs. Figg was petting Ginger, her cinnamon colored Kneazle who was giving Harry a funny look.

"Only if you live at number four Privet Drive," Harry replied cryptically. Mrs. Figg raised her eyebrow and gave Harry a questioning look that he was deliberately ignoring. "See you in a couple of hours Professor Figg." He headed down the sidewalk with what could almost be called a spring in his step.

Mrs. Figg watched him carefully. It had been a bad weekend for him; he probably needed to talk about it. She gave serious consideration to calling Molly Weasley to find out what had happened but thought better of it. She knew Harry would come to her if he wanted her to know, and she would deal with it then. "Who am I kidding, I am no more equipped to handle his emotional turmoil than he is." Merlin, her male calico cat, nuzzled his head into her hand and purred as she closed the door.

When Harry arrived home, Aunt Petunia was walking around the house in a heavy pink bathrobe and her fuzzy pink slippers with a towel on her head. Harry and Petunia both jumped and screamed in shock as Harry opened the door. Harry quickly closed the door and waited outside for a couple of minutes before going in again. He headed straight for his room and began unpacking his bag. Mrs. Figg had used cleaning and anti-wrinkling charms on his clothes while he had cleaned up. As he hung up the clothes, he reminded himself to thank her again. As he hung up his olive shirt, he was reminded again of Hermione's words on Friday.

"Trust me Harry, the clothes make the man. Those clothes did a number for you. You just set Ginny back six months." Harry's mind did something curious then; he jumped to the memory of holding Ginny in the hallway on Monday morning. This morning, it seemed like several days ago. He thought again of how her curls had tickled his nose, the fact that her hair smelled like wild strawberries, how soft she had been against him, and how calm everything had been in those couple of minutes when it was just the two of them.

You could do worse for yourself Harry; a lot worse. Harry shunted that thought away. Ginny was a Weasley, one of them. As he thought of the Weasleys, it was painful. He pushed away from that thought as well and went to Hedwig's cage to feed her. She hooted drowsily and nipped his fingers affectionately. A knock at his door drew him out of his reverie. "Yes?"

"Harry," Aunt Petunia's voice came through the door, "shower's free if you need it."

"I'm good, thanks" Harry heard the door open behind him, he got up out of his chair. Petunia dropped the brush she was using and stared at him in wide-eyed wonder. Harry was wearing a pair of pleated olive slacks, an ivory linen oxford style shirt, and a silk tie of muted olive and tan with gold accenting.

"Where? How?" Petunia looked like she had just seen a ghost; finally she shook it off and looked at him appraisingly. "You look very nice Harry." Her brow crinkled slightly as though she was considering something, then she smiled. "By the way, I invited Amber to join us this evening. This should be simply splendid." She turned and walked back to her bedroom, closing the door behind her. Harry flopped down on his bed and asked the ceiling what he had done to deserve this.

Dinner was served at seven o'clock sharp. Petunia really pulled out all the stops for this one Harry thought as he escorted Amber to the dining room. Amber reminded Harry of Neville's toad, Trevor. Not because she was ugly or looked like a toad, although she was certainly no Ginny Weasley, but rather because she always seemed to be lost. She had immigrated to England from the US just eight months before and was still learning to speak English like normal people. Most of her phrases were improperly used and she frequently lapsed back into her American West Coast dialect that left a great deal to be desired in Harry's mind. About halfway through a main course of prime rib and roasted potatoes Harry decided to see if Amber could actually discern what she called 'dry British wit' from the truth.

"So Harry, where are you going to school at?" Her voice was bubbly and light and just a little too highly pitched. Harry noticed that Dudley hung on her every word.

Harry looked at her with a perfectly straight face and answered in a flat tone. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." The room fell silent, Petunia dropped her fork and it clattered against her plate very loudly. Mrs. Figg kicked him under the table and Uncle Vernon looked to be on the edge of an apoplectic fit. Dudley gave him a long, dark look that promised legions of pain. Amber gave him a long hard stare, then burst out laughing.

"Oh Harry, that's sodding rich. Bugger me for falling for it." She continued to laugh. Harry cringed inwardly as she butchered his native tongue. "You Brits have the most marvelous sense of humor, so dry. My friends back in the states would never think of something so original, or be able to pull it off with such a straight face." Harry also began to laugh, not at the supposed joke, but at Amber. Everyone else, except Dudley, saw Harry going along with the joke and managed to force out some weak laughter.

Through the rest of dinner Petunia's mood rapidly disintegrated. As hers did, so did everyone else's. By the end of dinner, Amber was claiming a dreadful headache and Dudley had been all too happy to escort her home. The presence of Mrs. Figg wouldn't even save Harry now.

Vernon turned and slammed his meaty fist down on the table next to Harry. "Boy," he shouted, his nose mere inches from Harry's own. "How dare you embarrass us like that? Your aunt makes every effort to make your stay here pleasant, even throws you a nice birthday and you repay her kindness by embarrassing her in front of the neighbors." Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the tie and shirt. "I always knew you were rotten. You will take your worthless carcass out of my house and you will never return! I hope that Volde-whoever-he-is finds you and gets rid of you once and for all!" Vernon yanked Harry up out of the chair and threw him bodily into the kitchen, a sneer evident on his ugly face. Harry ran into a counter and knocked the crystal cake pedestal off on to the floor. Chocolate mud cake splattered across the kitchen floor and mixed with the shards of broken crystal.

Harry pushed off the counter and turned around to face the approaching Vernon. With Ron, the fight had been personal but there hadn't been any hatred, only loss and hurt. This fight was set to be epic because there was nobody in the world, save Voldemort and maybe Peter Pettigrew, that Harry loathed more than Uncle Vernon. Harry's left fist rocketed forward to land solidly on Vernon's jaw. His head snapped sideways and Harry followed the first shot with a violent uppercut to the chin. Harry was dimly aware of Petunia screaming. Vernon bull-rushed Harry and drove him into the counter again. The counter impacted hard into Harry's lower back.

Filled with rage, Harry grabbed Vernon's head and began to squeeze. As he did so energy began to pulse through his fingers, then something strange began to happen. Vernon's face began to collapse, his nose became two slits, his eyes narrowed and became snakelike. Vernon's skin began to turn green and reptilian. Suddenly a force blew into Harry launching him over the counter to land flat on his back in the middle of the kitchen. Dimly, he heard Vernon groan near him. His head swam in confusion as he tried to get his bearing. Petunia screamed horribly loud, then suddenly stopped. Harry tried to look in her direction but couldn't lift his head. He looked up at the sound of footsteps. A figure stood over him, a wand extended toward his face. Harry concentrated on the tip of the wand unable to form a full thought, let alone any coherent plan of action. Light erupted from the end of the wand, and everything went dark.

-----------------------------

Hermione stumbled out of the fireplace and into the living room where her mother was sipping tea. Her chest was tight and she coughed to clear the soot from her lungs. She detested travelling by Floo powder, but until she could pass her apparition test, which wasn't for another year, it was the fastest method of travel. Dr. Emily Granger, still in her dressing gown and slippers, set her tea down gingerly. This was most unusual.

"Hermione, what are you doing home?" Her voice was more surprised than anything. Hermione set her bag down by the stone fireplace and dusted the soot from her black jeans and silver-blue blouse. She looked at her mum with a hurt expression, then went and sat down in the chair opposite her.

"Oh Mum," she wasn't crying, but she was obviously upset. Her eyes showed signs of tears, but nothing immediate. "It was the most awful weekend ever, I think. Ron and Harry aren't speaking, and they may not again for a long time." These were grim tidings, Dr. Granger knew both boys fairly well and their friendship was the stuff of legends. Of more immediate concern though was the effect on Hermione. Hermione and Ron were very close and very much in love, but Hermione and Harry shared a closeness that some married couples didn't even understand. A situation like this would force her to divide loyalties she simply couldn't divide. Emily looked at her daughter with compassion, hoping she could do something for her.

"Can you tell me about it Button?" Hermione had no idea what the origination of that name was, but it always gave her a safe, calm feeling when her mother used it. She had been hearing it as long as she could remember. Her dad had stopped using it when she was about ten, figuring she was getting too old to be referred to by pet names. Her mother still used it though, in private moments, or when she was worried. Hermione took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. Dr. Granger lifted the ceramic teapot from its warmer and poured her daughter a cup of tea, its cinnamon and apple scent filling her nostrils. She then handed the cup to her daughter who sat with her legs curled under her in the large recliner.

"Harry took a liking to Marix." Emily nodded as she thought of the dark haired gypsy girl. "At first I didn't think anything of it, a lot of boys develop crushes on older women from what I understand. This was different though. Harry was convinced it was something more and wouldn't listen to anybody who said anything different." Hermione closed her eyes and thought through how to continue with this. "He pushed it pretty far, and it wouldn't be so bad but Marix thought he was very charming and quite sweet." Emily frowned deeply at this. Yes, Harry was a charming young man, even a little handsome, but he was still only a boy and she guessed Marix to be about thirty.

"In the end, Harry got his heart broken." Hermione shifted in her chair. "He can get over that I think, but it's everything that went with it." Hermione then relayed the entire story as she understood it, being careful to leave out parts that were either personally embarrassing or would betray what she and Ron had been up to lately. There were some things she didn't want her mother even guessing at.

"Do you think Harry will change plans for Thursday night?" Emily was afraid it sounded cold, but Hermione seemed not to notice.

"No, he said he'd see us Thursday night, but he asked...no, he told me not to bring Ron." Hermione began chewing on lock of hair as she considered Harry's statement. She noticed her mother was also playing with a lock of her own dark blonde hair. "Much as I might think he's wrong, I won't go against him on this one. He's already going to feel pretty isolated and alone. If I ignore his request, he's going to think I've turned on him too."

Hermione looked into the blue and white teacup and breathed the aroma of her mother's favorite tea. As the liquid swirled she thought about the stormy seas her life had suddenly been cast into. She wondered if the pillars of her life would stand up to the tempest. The foundation of her life was built on three pillars: that her parents would never fail her, that the answers could always be found, and that her best friends were forever. The last was a relatively new principal. Prior to fighting the troll with Ron and Harry during their first year, she never had real friends. Now she had friends that would stand by her through anything. At least that was the way it was yesterday afternoon. Hermione sighed as she thought about how shaky the third pillar had become.

"Button," her mother's voice was quiet. Her brow crinkled in worry, deepening the crows' feet around her light brown eyes. She wanted to be reassuring, but even she was unsure what to say. "Everything will work out okay. Harry and Ron can fix this, they have you to help them."

Hermione's voice trembled as she answered, "Mum, I don't know how." She began to shake, tears now running down her face. The teacup fell from her hand and shattered against the hardwood floor, pieces scattering everywhere.

-----------------------------

Ron sat on his bed staring out the window for a long time. What was happening to him? He knew what part of it was; he was worried about losing Hermione. Ron had seen the warm way Hermione hugged Harry when he came in. The way her hands lingered on his jacket, the way she grinned as she whispered in his ear. Harry could have anything he wanted, whenever he wanted it. Harry had already shown that, he collected girls' names and numbers faster than Ron collected Chocolate Frog Cards. He had watched Harry charm Marix right off her feet. Ginny was just waiting her turn now. Ron stood up and looked out the window, "Screw you Harry, you're not just waltzing in here and sweeping up everything I worked for."

He felt better for saying it, then he felt horribly stupid. Harry was his best friend; Harry had stood by him through thick and thin with the exception of that time during their fourth year. All during last year though, when he and Hermione had been fighting all the time, Harry had stood by them both trying to mediate peace. If he had wanted Hermione then, he could have had her easily. Instead, he had defended Ron. He pointed out to Hermione all the good things that kept them together, all the good things about Ron that she loved. He had defended Hermione the same way, making Ron see the truth of the problems even when he didn't want to admit it. "So why is it different now," he asked out loud. He knew the answer to that question too. He had so much more to lose.

Ron picked up the Muggle picture of him and Harry playing chess that Hermione's mum had taken last Christmas. He remembered it well, and fondly. He had just called check and Harry was deep in concentration trying to find a way out. Ron thought of that game. He had learned something important that day, Harry never gave up. Harry fought Ron down to a knight, a bishop, and a queen in that game. That check had cost Ron seven pieces in nine moves. It was a brilliant game, and when it was over Harry had congratulated Ron on a fabulous game. Harry was the best kind of friend, the one that stood by you and kept you from being horribly stupid; and when you were, he forgave you. "So why I am being so stupid about him now?" Ron got dressed and went to knock on Marix's door, he had studies today, and he desperately needed something to grant him the wisdom of ages now.

Marix opened her door; she was wearing an old pair of jeans, a well-worn t-shirt, and her hair hung loosely over her shoulders. She looked at Ron with some concern, he had been very erratic and unpredictable over that last twenty-four hours and she wasn't quite sure what to expect from him. He smiled weakly at her and pulled out his deck of Tarot Cards.

"Swords today, if I remember right." Ron's voice was hopeful and carried no signs of the day's previous trouble. She smiled at him as well, though the smile never quite reached her eyes.

"Indeed it is, Swords and Cups both if you pay attention." She closed her door behind her and followed Ron down the steps to the living room. Ginny sat quietly in her room listening to Marix talk as they descended the stairs. "Something to remember, some decks replace Cups with Hearts. It alters the meanings slightly, but not much." Ginny listened to stairs creak as they reached the bottom. As quietly as she could she opened the door to her room and stepped into the abandoned hallway.

Let's see about this crystal rose of yours that means so much, Ginny thought to herself as she looked at Marix' closed door. Ginny crept to the door, careful to avoid the loose floorboards that creaked. Slowly she opened the door, then moved in and closed the door behind her. "Now if I was given a rose by a man like Harry," she grinned to herself at that pleasing thought, "where would I put it?" She looked at the desk by the bed, and sure enough, there it was. Ginny padded to the desk and looked at it carefully. It was a really nice piece. Why couldn't he have gotten me something like that, she thought somewhat bitterly. She pushed that thought away, there would be roses enough from Harry later on.

She picked the rose up, it was very fragile, she could feel it. She knew that with hardly an effort she could snap the stem in half. The thought was very tempting, just to crush it in her fingers and feel glass crumble in her hand. She decided to wait, not because it would be cruel to break the rose, but because doing it now would be spiteful, petty, and obvious. It was the obvious part that bothered her. She settled on something more subtle for now. It would also tell her how important the rose was to Marix. She opened the desk drawer and put the rose in the back of the drawer, then closed it again. With a satisfied smirk, she turned and crept again to the door, exiting the room like a cat stalking unwary birds.

As Ginny slipped into the hall she heard the sound of Ron and Marix' voices coming up from the living room. "What do you mean you saw a man with four swords in a vision this morning?" Marix was obviously upset with Ron. Sensing an opportunity, Ginny sat down on the top stair and listened.

"Well, I was going to talk to Harry this morning and as I reached for the door I saw something that looked like a painting in my mind." Ron's voice was subdued, as though he knew he was being scolded and didn't want to own up to whatever he had done.

"What did you see?" Marix' voice was stern.

"There was a woman wearing a small crown set with heart shaped stones."

Marix interrupted him, "Young woman or old?"

Ron paused before answering. "Not old, but older. Kind of matronly, reminded me a little of Hermione's mum."

"The Queen of Hearts," Marix said thoughtfully, "empathy, concern, and understanding for others." Ginny thought that it was ironic that Ron should be associated with empathy in any way. Marix continued on, "What else did you see?"

"There was a man with four swords. The one in his hand was bloody. Laid out in front of him were five men, each of them had been stabbed through the heart." Ron paused for a moment; the only sound Ginny could hear was that of her mother in the kitchen. "That's all I can remember."

"Ron, I am not a dream interpreter, nor am I prophet so my understanding may be less than perfect. However, it seems that your visions are coming in a form you should be able to understand. All the elements correspond very neatly to the Tarot. It makes sense, you're processing the visions you receive in a manner you can understand." She took a deep breath before she continued; Ginny could hear her shifting on the creaky old couch downstairs. "The swordsman probably represents the Four of Swords. How was he standing?"

"He was standing opposite the woman, glaring at her." Ron's voice sounded a little detached. Ginny could imagine Ron with his eyes closed, chewing on his bottom lip as he often did when trying to remember something.

"Well, he could be interpreted one of two ways. The first would be to see him as the embodiment of the Four of Swords, seclusion. The second would be to see him as the Three of Swords, sorrow, and as the Ace of Swords, triumph. Finally, the five men lying on the ground would most likely be the Five of Hearts, disappointment. Were there any other details about the men?"

After a short pause, Ron answered. "Three of them were armed with swords, I think."

"That settles it then." Ginny waited with eager anticipation for the explanation. "The men represent sorrow and disappointment." There was another pause, and then Marix continued with a disappointed tone. "You were given the choice Ron, and you failed to recognize it. You could have been understanding, been the friend to Harry that I know you are. Instead, you slew that friendship and isolated yourself from him." Marix voice began to quaver and Ginny realized with some satisfaction that Marix sounded like she was about to cry. Ginny decided that now was a good time to make her presence known.

Ginny stood up on the landing, reached over and opened and closed her door loudly, then tromped down the stairs. Ginny entered the room and looked hard at the student and teacher. Ron looked down at the table abashedly; Marix was staring out the window, blinking very hard. Ginny decided that now was as good a time as any start her plans moving. "Marix, I'm so sorry about what happened." Ginny hoped the sympathy in her voice didn't sound so thick they would think it was false, even though it was. Marix turned and looked at Ginny.

"Thank you Ginny, but I probably brought most of it on myself anyway." Her voice was somewhat morose. Ginny liked that; it meant that she was being truthful. She could use it against the older woman later.

"I doubt it. Trust me, I know better than anyone the effect Harry can have on a woman. After all..." Ginny forced her tone to sound bitter, the unrequited love of a young girl, "I have felt that for all my years at Hogwarts." She glowered at the dirty look Ron was giving her. She also noticed that Marix looked a little relieved. She'll confide in me now, this is better than I hoped for. Ginny smiled at Marix, finally understanding the phrase 'Beware the crocodile's grin.' Ginny then turned and went to the kitchen for a bite to eat.

Molly was in the kitchen, frosting what Ginny assumed was a birthday cake. "What's that mum?"

"Oh good, you're up." Molly bustled around the kitchen moving things around. She stopped and looked at Ginny. "Are you OK dear? After this morning and all." Ginny noted her mother's look of profound concern. Ginny put her hand to her cheek where her father slapped her several hours earlier. It had stopped hurting and there were no marks, but the memory of the sting was still sharp. Molly rushed to her daughter and enveloped her in a great hug.

"I'm OK mum, really." Ginny managed to push the words out through her mothers' shoulder and hair. Molly stepped back and held Ginny by the shoulders, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Dear, your father feels so bad about this. It really shook him up pretty bad. He's afraid you're never going to forgive him for it." Molly looked to be on the verge of tears from the worry of it all. Ginny turned and sat down at the kitchen table and grabbed a fresh baked peach scone. Seeing that Ginny wasn't going to talk about it Molly went back to frosting the cake. With a flip of her wand, icing formed the words 'Happy 17^th Birthday Harry Potter, from the Weasleys.'

"Mum," Ginny's voice was quiet as she asked the question, "Why was Dad so upset this morning? He said this was about more than just Harry and Ron, he said that he would do anything to protect me from that kind of betrayal. What did he mean?" Molly set the cake down on the counter very carefully. She moved slowly and deliberately to the table and sat down across from Ginny.

Molly took a deep breath and collected her thoughts. She hadn't thought about this in years before today. None of the boys had ever questioned what happened to their father's family, they just accepted the story of a midnight attack by the Death Eaters. While Voldemort had been behind it, it wasn't Death Eaters. "Sweetie," her voice was sad and a little angry, "your father and I remember a time before You-Know-Who. In his early days, he used inside agents to gather information and influence powerful people. This was before he had the power to just kill whomever he wanted. He was a crafty individual, very powerful and very charismatic. He had something that appealed to other people. Some people would do anything to serve a man like that, including sacrificing their own family. Your father saw it up close. He saw You-Know-Who destroy an entire family by turning them against each other with petty jealousies and hatred. In the end they were all murdered, except one."

"Who was the family, Mum?" Ginny asked the question with trepidation and a morbid curiosity she couldn't turn away from. She was afraid of the answer, she was afraid she already knew.

"The family isn't important dear." Molly lied to her daughter hoping to protect her from the awful truth that she remembered. In her mind's eye she could still see Christopher sitting in the den, his wand extended towards her as he crushed her will. She could still remember Arthur's anguished cry he lifted his younger brother's lifeless body and carried it away from the carnage. She could still see the callous look on Thomas Riddle's face as he launched the knife that would kill Joseph Weasley.

Ginny knew her mother was lying, she could even guess why. "It was Dad's family, wasn't it?" Ginny saw her mother nod, unable to speak through the hands over her face. Ginny sat in stunned silence as the mystery that was her father revealed itself before her. She rose to hug her mother, the glass of milk she had been drinking fell to the floor and shattered. The milk ran across the floor to settle in the cracks of the tile.

When her father returned home that night, Ginny ran to him like she hadn't run to him in many years. In his surprised hug, she found the comfort his hand had stripped from her that morning. In the butterfly kisses that peppered his cheek, Arthur found the forgiveness he had feared would never come.

It was several hours later as Ginny sat in her room writing the letter to Harry. She figured it was almost midnight as she re-read it one last time before sending it.

Harry,

I just wanted to write to you and wish you a happy birthday. Pig has a little something I picked up for you, hope you like it. I know you're at dinner with those horrid Muggles right now, I just hope everything goes OK.

I don't quite know what to say about this weekend, so I won't say anything except that you looked very nice in your new clothes and that the magazines you bought me have a lot of really good stuff in them. I am really enjoying them. Looking at the Muggle pictures is kind of odd though, I keep on expecting them to move and then I remember that they're Muggle pictures and can't move! Dad spent his entire evening reading that book you bought him. He writes down a lot of notes, I think they are questions he intends to ask you about it. Can you give me your phone number? Jared is loaning me his cell phone so I can call him and I thought I might ring you too.

Happy Birthday,
Sincerely Your Friend,

Ginny

Ginny had been agonizing over this letter for hours. At first, she had poured out her heart to him. She erased all that, Harry knew about all that stuff and he had never responded to it before. Besides, she wanted him to trust that she wasn't out to betray him also. Her second attempt had been more conspiratorial, telling him about her plans for Marix and the conversation between Marix and Ron that morning. It had been full of elicit detail about how upset Marix had been when she couldn't find the crystal rose, and how pleased Ginny had been by that little revelation. Just before she put it in the envelope though, the thought had struck her that maybe Harry wouldn't appreciate that. She killed that note as well. In the end, she settled on the simple note saying happy birthday and thanking him for his gift. She wanted to be his friend. She knew he was alone right now, and being his friend was the first step down the long road that led to Harry's heart.

As she sealed the envelope, she resisted the urge to kiss it, fearing that Harry would see the lipstick and think it was a love letter. She fervently hoped Harry hadn't learned some spell that would let him read everything she had erased. She slipped out of her room and down the stairs in the darkness. She found Pigwidgeon in his cage, eating what looked like a grasshopper. "Pig, that's disgusting," she admonished him. She held out the letter and the little owl began to hop around. "Take this to Harry for me, it needs to be there when he wakes up." She attached the letter to his leg and he took off as if he'd been shot out of a gun.