1997

Harry trudged through the castle, his mind not quite muddled enough not to wonder which Floo Hermione had used to get home. Or maybe she’d illegally Apparated; she was probably far gone enough to do it.

He still didn’t know what had happened. She’d kissed him; that much he was clear on. But as for why …

Harry shook his head and tried to force the giant knot in his stomach to dissipate. He hadn’t wanted that. Had he done something to make her believe he did? He had no idea really what a person usually did to let someone else know he wanted a snog-

Harry halted as he reached the bottom of the steps to the dungeon, his heart plummeting.

Ron and George shot to their feet, both of them yanking on their shirts to straighten them as Harry stared at them. The sconces on the walls flickered eerie patterns on their faces.

“Er, wotcher Harry,” Ron said quietly, a slow trail of crimson crawling up his neck, bleeding into his cheeks.

Harry’s tongue felt like it was stuck to the roof of his mouth; clearly neither of them had any idea of what had just happened out by the Whomping Willow. “Hi,” he managed.

George cleared his throat. “Sorry to just-” He gestured with his hands, and then fell silent. Harry stared between them; he could feel his own face heating up as he remembered the feel of Hermione’s lips on his; lips that were meant for someone else. Even if Hermione had insisted that she and Ron could never be the same.

“Listen-” Both Ron and Harry closed their mouths abruptly but neither continued to speak. Harry tugged on his collar, feet shifting against the stones as he wondered if there was some sort of spell he could use to make them swallow him whole.

“I suppose Fred told you I spoke with him,” he finally said, halting over the words. The brothers nodded. “I, er … lost my temper a bit.” He wasn’t exactly sure if he was trying to apologize, but a huge part of him was relieved when Ron’s shoulders relaxed.

“It wasn’t your fault, mate,” he said. His blue eyes were so earnest that Harry wanted to skewer himself on his own wand. Hermione’s face invaded his thoughts; hiding inside the dungeons forever actually sounded appealing. Ron would never speak to him again anyway. And any hope of convincing Ginny that everything could be the same again-

Harry swallowed, his palm coming up to brace against the wall; his knees felt like liquid.

“Are you all right?” Ron asked, peering closely at him. “You look like you’re about to sick up.”

Harry shook his head, feeling exactly like he might hurl the contents of his stomach right onto Ron’s trainers. “Too many Butterbeers,” he said, trying for a grin and failing miserably.

Ron nodded though and stuffed his hands into his pockets. His gaze shifted around the dark corridor for a few seconds before settling somewhere around the vicinity of Harry’s left shoulder. “How’s your lip?” he asked gruffly. Confused, Harry’s fingers flew to his mouth but then he remembered that Ron had punched him at Snape Manor.

Feeling foolish, he shrugged. “Nothing broken.”

Ron nodded; his eyes slid to Harry’s face.

Before he could speak again, Harry said quickly, “I know I told Fred I wanted you to apologize but that was a bit stupid really-”

“No it wasn’t,” Ron cut him off, shaking his head as if he had water in his ears. “I wasn’t exactly sure what to say-”

Harry shook his head just as hard, flapping his hand as well and Ron fell silent. What Ron had done had been nothing compared to Harry’s own betrayal—not that he’d meant to betray his friend. But he must have done. Girls didn’t just haul off and kiss blokes for no reason.

“You going to the Cup?” Ron asked into the silence.

Harry nodded. “You?”

“Dad and I are going with Fred and George,” Ron said; his hands were digging even deeper into his pockets.

Harry swallowed and wished his throat didn’t ache. “Ginny isn’t going?”

Ron shook his head, his eyes darting to the floor and back again.

“How is she?” Harry asked quietly. Not that she would ever speak to him again; not that he had any right to know.

“She’s quiet…”

“You were right about what you said to Fred,” George finally spoke. “It was all of us who hurt Ginny, not you. And we were awful to you-”

“It’s all right,” Harry interrupted, because the Weasleys had been right after all, hadn’t they? He had hurt Ginny; it didn’t matter that he hadn’t meant to. He didn’t think he could hate himself any more than he did right now; his belly burned with shame. “You were only worried about Ginny. She’s your sister.”

“Yeah, she is,” George said, his voice more serious than Harry had thought it could be. “But we adopted you into our family and that isn’t any way to treat family.”

Harry didn’t think he would be able to speak without giving himself away. George’s words would only be true until they found out what he’d done. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from blurting it out.

“Thanks,” he finally warbled. It was a stupid thing to say but Harry’s insides were being gnawed to shreds and if he didn’t get away, he was certain he would explode.

“Even if you and Ginny-” George cleared his throat again. He shook his head. “I mean it when I say you’re family.”

Harry tried not to let the word in, but it burrowed down deep without his permission, planting itself in his ribcage and refused to leave. He didn’t deserve the warmth it gave him. But all he could do was nod.

Ron clapped his shoulder, the movement so awkward Harry nearly sidled away. The next time Ron touched him it would be to break his nose and this time, Harry knew he would deserve it.

“Ginny and I are taking turns working at the twins’ shop,” he said, still hesitant. “If you ever…” He gestured vaguely and Harry nodded. Ron offered him a ghost of a smile, which looked rather sickly next to George’s easy grin.

“You’re always welcome there, Harry,” George said, his words as earnest as they could be. “We’re all really sorry.”

“Right. Thanks.” Harry offered the best smile he could and then they all stood there, no one knowing what to say now that everything required had been said. “I … ought to go inside. You know, my dad…”

“Yeah.”

“Right,” Harry said again, doing his best imitation of an Echoing Charm. “Have fun … er, at the match.”

“Maybe we’ll see you there,” George said.

“Sure.” Because Ron would just love to see Draco. “Well, goodnight … oh, do you need to use the Floo?”

“We’ll Apparate beyond the gates.”

“Right.” Harry flushed; he sounded like a complete prat. “Night.”

“Night,” Ron and George murmured. George draped an arm over Ron’s shoulders and together they went up the stairs, Harry staring after them until they blended with the shadows. The door to his father’s quarters sprang open at his touch.

He paused as he stepped over the threshold. His father and Remus were bent over a chessboard, Remus chuckling at something while Severus scowled. They looked up as Harry closed the door and gave them a small smile. His father’s eyes immediately narrowed and since for all intents, Severus was inside his head, Harry wasn’t surprised.

“Who’s winning?” he asked, sliding his eyes from then intent gaze.

“Your father isn’t ready to concede defeat just yet,” Remus said, just as Levi landed on the top of Harry’s head. Claws kneaded his scalp for several long seconds; the kylaria’s purring vibrated through Harry’s skull.

“Did you speak with Ron and George?” Severus asked, neutrally as far as Remus’ ears were probably concerned and Harry was momentarily relieved to have an excuse for whatever emotions his father could feel.

“Yeah, they just left,” Harry said as he held out his palm for Levi. The little dragon hopped into his hand; he butted Harry’s chest, encouraging Harry’s thumb to trail down his back. Harry didn’t elaborate and neither his father nor Remus probed further.

“How was your evening?” Severus asked instead. “Hermione took a Floo from Hogsmeade?”

“Er … she left before I found Ron and George,” Harry said, shrugging to cover his flaring nerves. “I should probably go to bed … Cup tomorrow you know.”

His father’s eyebrows rose, but he simply said, “I will be retiring shortly as well.”

“Sirius will need to eat soon,” Remus added.

Harry nodded and smiled again. “I’ll see you in the morning then,” he said. He waggled his fingers in farewell and went to his room. He knew his dad would be in as soon as Remus left, which would probably be very soon, since Remus knew Harry almost as well as Severus did.

So Harry didn’t even bother pretending he was really tired. He flopped on his bed, fully clothed. “Fuck everything,” he muttered to Levi. Levi curled close to his chest and simply purred, the only way he knew how to help. Harry figured he was beyond help at this point.

His shoulders remained tense until Severus knocked on the door. Drawing in a deep breath through is nose, Harry called, “Come in.” Severus opened the door but didn’t come inside.

“Do you wish to speak about whatever is bothering you?” he asked. Harry shook his head and watched while the lines around his father’s mouth tightened. “Are you angry that I allowed Ron and George to wait for you?” he finally asked.

“No, of course not,” Harry said. “They didn’t do anything.”

After a short silence, Severus asked, “I do not need to tell you that I will listen should you wish to talk?”

Harry shook his head and after another moment, Severus nodded.

“Goodnight,” he said quietly.

“Night. Thanks, Dad,” he added before his father closed the door. Severus’ lips lifted in a tiny smile before he disappeared.

Harry listened to the sounds of his father preparing for bed as he stroked his purring familiar. He shifted restlessly against his pillow when the faint glow from across the corridor was finally extinguished and Harry darkened his own room as well; no need to call even more attention to his mental state.

After awhile, even Levi was asleep; his breathing soft and even beside Harry’s head but Harry had long since given up trying to sleep as well.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Hermione’s face leaning in toward his and then Ginny’s, her eyes full of betrayal, her lips twisted with hurt. And Ron’s face, purple with rage. So he kept his eyes open, and tried not to think about any of them.

It was impossible.

Why the hell had Hermione kissed him? Even if he’d given her some reason to think he’d wanted a snog, was she mad? Didn’t she know that Ron would surely kill him? And if … if Ginny did still care about him, Hermione was in very real danger as well.

And no matter how many times he tried to figure it out—even when he tried to convince himself he must have wanted to kiss her, he couldn’t get past the fact that they hadn’t been Ginny’s lips. It had been wrong—the feel, the pressure; all of it.

Ginny’s lips were perfect. The way her body fit against his when they kissed was perfect too.

He had no idea how long he lay there, staring at the dark ceiling, trying to stop himself from remembering every line and curve of Ginny’s body, but he finally gave up and spelled the lamps back up. Levi grunted at him in annoyance as he cracked an eye. “The dark is driving me mad,” Harry explained and with a disgruntled snort, the kylaria flew out the door when Harry opened it. Across the corridor, his father’s door was open, and Harry could see him in the sliver of light from his room; sleeping.

Sighing, Harry closed his door again and sagged onto his bed, though what he really needed was a cold shower.

It wasn’t quite midnight, though Harry was rather surprised that he’d lain awake for so long. He picked up one of the Quidditch magazines from the pile on the table next to his bed. He scooted back into the corner of the wall, drew his knees into his chest and flipped idly through the pages. He stared at the illustrated maneuvers, filling his head with Bludgers and Quaffles instead of Ginny’s soft breasts until his eyes began to cross; the pictures becoming blurrier the harder he stared at them.

--

“Harry …”

Harry smiled as he heard that soft, familiar voice in his dreams. He heard it again and then someone was shaking him. Scowling at the abrupt end to his fantasy, Harry dragged his eyes open and then he sat up abruptly, his neck screaming in protest.

Dreaming; he was dreaming. That was the only way Ginny could be standing in front of his closed door in her pajamas. As if he was pulled by puppeteer’s strings, Harry felt himself rising from the bed.

“Ginny?” he croaked. His face flushed and he cleared his throat.

“Hi,” Ginny said, her voice soft and uneven; as if she was about to cry. And though he wanted nothing more than to go to her, he couldn’t move. “I had to talk to you,” she whispered. “I know I should have waited until morning, but I couldn’t sleep.”

“It’s all right,” Harry said; he swallowed. Apologies where once they wouldn’t have been needed; he hated it.

“Harry, I-” Ginny breathed, but then she shook her head, her long ginger ponytail swishing against her neck and even though he knew he shouldn’t allow it, a familiar warmth spread through Harry’s body. His breath faltered as he watched Ginny coming toward him. Without his permission, his feet were moving forward too. He tried to stop them; tried to convince himself that he couldn’t have what he wanted so badly.

“Harry,” she tried again, but Harry finally managed to shake his head, stopping their forward momentum; he planted his feet on the cold stones and stared down at the freckles sprinkled across Ginny’s nose as he tried to convince himself that she would care about what he had to say.

He blanketed the room in the strongest Privacy Charm he knew, taking his time as he returned his wand to the table.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, fighting to keep his voice from breaking. “And when I do you’re going to hate me, so please just let me say it before you leave.” His throat was throbbing as he stopped speaking; Ginny was gazing up at him, a crease in her forehead. “I didn’t mean to make her think I wanted to; I swear I didn’t, Ginny and I’m really sorry since I must have, but Hermione-” He had to grit his teeth before he could continue, “-kissed me.”

He willed himself not to look away; he wasn’t going to be a coward. Ginny didn’t look away either and after a silent moment, her forehead smoothed and she whispered, “I know.”

Harry felt his eyebrows drawing together as he tried to make sense of what he’d clearly heard.

“She told me,” Ginny explained, her voice soft and still warbling a little.

“She … did?”

Ginny nodded, her eyes not straying at all. “Came right to the twins’ shop; she was a mess. Blurted it all out right in front of Fred.” She shook her head as Harry felt the blood draining from his face. “He isn’t angry. He couldn’t be after listening to her.” She swallowed. “She said you didn’t kiss her back; that it was all her and I can’t even be mad at her.”

“She was just confused,” Harry tried to explain, feeling nearly panicked at the thought that Ginny might not understand. “She’s lonely and she misses Ron.”

Tears were making Ginny’s eyes sparkle; she shook her head to wave Harry’s words away. “That’s not what I mean,” she said softly. She wouldn’t have kissed you if I hadn’t been an idiot. A stupid, frightened idiot…” She drew in a shaky breath. “Did you?” she whispered. “Did you kiss her back?”

Harry was numb as he shook his head; he didn’t point out that he hadn’t had time, or that her lips hadn’t felt right at all. That it wouldn’t have meant anything if he had kissed Hermione. “Would it have mattered to you if I had?” he asked. Ginny drew back a little and Harry didn’t like the expression on her face, as though he’d said something truly heinous.

“Of course-”

“No,” he said, cutting her off with the sharp word; her mouth closed very slowly. “It isn’t an ‘of course’ sort of situation. How am I to know if you care who I do or don’t kiss?”

Ginny blinked several times before demanding shakily, “There were others?”

“No,” he breathed so loudly it was practically a hiss. “Of course not!”

“Well, how am I supposed to know if you’ve been snogging every girl in Britain?” Ginny whispered right back, her eyes snapping now.

“I didn’t snog any girls! And you’d know,” he retorted, “if you hadn’t insisted we not see each other.”

Ginny’s cheeks had flushed a bright red. “I didn’t say you could kiss anyone else,” she said fiercely.

“You didn’t say I couldn’t either!”

Ginny’s face darkened as her eyes narrowed to slits and Harry shook his head as he realized how that sounded. “That isn’t what I meant.”

“I suppose I know exactly what you meant,” Ginny said, her voice icy now; her fingers balled into fists at her side and the anger that had been stewing for weeks finally exploded.

“You haven’t any right to be cross with me,” Harry said, his volume ratcheting up a notch. “This was your idea, not mine!”

“I was trying to make certain we didn’t ruin everything,” Ginny snapped. “Like Ron and Hermione did!”

“Who cares about Ron and Hermione? We aren’t Ron and Hermione. I don’t give a damn about them,” he said, keeping his voice as low as he could manage. “You used to trust me.”

“I do trust you-”

“No you don’t. You think I’d be as stupid as Ron.”

“I never said that!”

“As good as,” Harry come back with. “If you were pregnant, it would be my kid as well you know! I’d be frightened as hell but it wouldn’t matter. And it wouldn’t change the way I feel about you!”

“How do you know that, Harry?” Ginny was practically shouting now, the ponytail quivering with each word.

“Because I do,” he hissed; it took all his effort not to shout back.

“You can’t just say you know how things would-”

“It’s because I love you, Ginny,” he interrupted forcefully as he grabbed the nearest thing to curl his fingers around, which happened to be the back of the desk chair. “And if you don’t know how much I love you by now, then I don’t know why you even came here.”

“I came here to apologize,” Ginny said, crossing her arms over her chest and Harry finally recognized the defensive tone to go along with the posture; he sighed.

“You don’t have to,” he said, feeling like he’d been popped.

“Why not?” Ginny demanded. “You just said you love me.”

Confused, Harry said, “I do-”

“Then why can’t I apologize?” She lifted her chin, her defensiveness turned swiftly to defiance. “If you haven’t snogged every other girl in wizarding Britain, why can’t I say I’m sorry?”

“I haven’t snogged even one girl,” Harry snapped, his anger renewed with vigor. “But I had to read about all the blokes you’d supposedly snogged,” he reminded her.

“Do you think I wanted to read those things any more than you did? Do you think I enjoyed being a prisoner at the Burrow because every time I left, reporters hounded me for the names of my dozens of lovers!”

Harry cringed as the evocative word slipped from Ginny’s tongue.

“I came here because when Hermione told me she kissed you, I wanted to hex her,” she went on furiously. “I couldn’t even think of a spell awful enough. And then I stood there, imagining how many bloody Elizabeths from Hufflepuff there are in the world and how I'm going to hex every single one if they even look at you!”

It was wildly inappropriate but Harry couldn’t help it; he smiled.

“It isn’t funny, Harry!”

“It’s sort of funny,” he told her. “You’ll have to walk around Hogwarts all year with your wand out. And what are you going to do once I graduate, eh?” he asked, his smile tentative and hopeful all at once.

“Create a charm that will hex girls in my absence,” Ginny retorted. Her swift answer surprised both of them. Ginny flushed, but she didn’t look away and Harry’s chest swelled.

“You’ve already thought about it?”

“I thought maybe your dad would help me.” Ginny’s brown eyes danced for a moment but it didn’t last. “You’re right,” she said heavily. “I haven’t any right to be cross with you.” She crossed her arms again, but this time she just looked small and vulnerable. “And I don’t even have any right to tell you who you can and can’t kiss. I’ve bollixed everything-”

“No you haven’t,” Harry said quietly. “And as far as I’m concerned, Gin, you have every right to care who I kiss. I wouldn’t even bother with a hex if someone kissed you. Remember when I punched Pinth?” he asked seriously. “Well, I’d do a lot worse to any bloke who tried to kiss you.”

He didn’t particularly like Ginny’s surprised reaction. “You would?”

“What have I been saying for the past year?” he asked, his arms spreading wide in exasperation. “What do you not understand about how much I love you? Not once since this ridiculous situation started have I ever said otherwise, have I?” he demanded. “Haven’t I said over and over that I love you? That I would wait if you wanted to wait? Do you think I’ve been patient out of the goodness of my heart? Do you think I wanted to sit here and picture myself strangling dozens of fictitious men? I wouldn’t want to mangle people if I didn’t love you! How many times do I have to say it, Gin?!”

His voice was so hoarse from trying not to shout that Harry could hardly breathe.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t forgive me,” Ginny whispered, her voice nearly as hoarse as his was. “I didn’t know how to … tell you how sorry I was … We’d never had a row.”

Ginny stilled as Harry’s thumb came up to brush at a smudge of soot on her cheek. “I think this counts,” he said gruffly.

Ginny’s smile was shaky. “I meant before…”

“It doesn’t matter, Gin,” he said softly as his thumb traversed her cheekbone.

“It does,” she insisted, just as quietly. “I was an idiot-”

“No you weren’t.”

“Will you let me apologize?” Ginny demanded abruptly, her eyes flashing in a brief temper.

Harry’s thumb stopped its caresses but only for a second. He smiled. “If I let you apologize, will you stop feeling like you have to?” he asked, cupping her cheek.

“If you’d let me apologize, I wouldn’t need to any longer!” she said indignantly; her face moved with his touch though and Harry decided he’d had enough of talking.

“Well?” he asked softly and almost gave in right then as Ginny’s face grew warm under his fingertips.

“I’ m sorry-”

The apology was swallowed up as Harry kissed her. The instant their lips touched, electricity sparked between them, igniting every nerve ending in Harry’s body. It was everything that Hermione’s impromptu kiss hadn’t been. This was right.

Ginny’s arms were already wound around his neck, her body pressed to his before he could pull her in. Her fingers tangled in his hair and tugged his head down, asking for more and Harry obliged, having not realized before that a kiss could be so deep.

Jolts of energy pulsed through them and Harry groaned into her mouth as her hands found his arse, pulling him even closer and in the next moments, the hands slipped up, under his shirt, her soft palms smoothing over his back as they kissed.

And then he was sitting on the bed, with Ginny standing between his knees; he was so foggy with sensation that he wasn’t even certain how they’d gotten there. She was pressed right against him, still kissing him even as her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his shirt.

His fingertips grazed her back, finding the clasp of her bra and with less trouble than he’d planned for, he released it; the elastics springing away from her skin. Harry pulled back, breathing heavily, silently asking her what she wanted. Ginny smiled at him, so beautiful with her flushed cheeks and hair spilling out from her ponytail.

With his free hand, Harry brought her lips to his, kissing her until nothing mattered but the way her skin felt against his.