Disclaimer: All characters, places and situations recognized from the Harry Potter books are the property of J.K. Rowling and will never be used by me for profit.
Author's Note: First, I offer a general apology for my prolonged absence. Circumstances conspired against me long before HBP landed on me like a ton of dragon dung. With any luck, I should be sorting out my personal Triwizard obstacles and getting back into posting very shortly. The story I had intended to post will be delayed indefinitely. Ron was its featured player, and I find I have lost any enthusiasm for anything throwing him in a positive light. Later for that, perhaps. But now, on to the subject of the moment.
Like all right-thinking HP fans, I was left gobsmacked by certain unexplainable and, in my judgment, unjustifiable events in HBP. Like many of this elect group, I turned my disgust inward and exorcised my demons through writing. The result is the story below.
I had intended to write an essay dissecting the events in the last two books, with an eye toward understanding what we now know to be true (like it or not) and comparing it with other passages that have yet to be explained. This presumably would have given me a reasoned foundation on which to rebuild my hopes for the seventh book. But my inclination is always toward the direct, and fiction drives right to the heart of the matter in a way that simple discourse cannot. I may yet tackle the essay, but for now, this little snippet has gone far toward healing the soul-wound left by HBP.
When it was done, I debated whether to post it or keep it to myself. But my discovery of this contest convinced me that sharing is always better than hoarding. If I can impart some small measure of hope in my fellow true believers by the simple expedient of posting a story, how can I in all good conscience do otherwise?
Actually, as the synopsis states, this is not a story so much as a self-indulgent opening chapter for Book 7. I have no immediate plans to follow it up, since I wouldn't know where to begin in regard to the Horcrux Quest. I may in future ponder ways to examine the romance angle without mucking about with the plot, but for the moment this fragment stands on its own. It accomplishes its intended purpose, that of opening a door too long closed and letting a ray of long-delayed light shine into the darkness. That should be enough to be getting on with.
Oh, since I only just discovered this contest, I haven't done any extensive reading of the FelixFelicis entries. If anything in the fragment below appears to be copied from another story, please know that it is unintentional. If one of the clever scribes on this site has already trod all or part of this ground, I send green stars aloft in salute.
And now, Chapter One of Harry Potter and the Horcrux Quest (title subject to change):
The weather was absolutely perfect. Molly Weasley looked around the familiar borders of the back garden of the Burrow, her hands clasped before her and her eyes shining.
"Oh, what a lovely day for a wedding!" she exclaimed.
Turning about, she allowed her eyes to rest on the two couples sitting under the largest tree near the frog pond.
"I've just made fresh lemonade," she announced. "Shall I bring you some?"
Ginny looked up at her mother quickly, snatching her hand out of Harry's as if it had been burned.
"I'll get it, Mum," she said. "You have enough to be getting on with."
Ginny leaped to her feet, leaving Harry staring up at her with an amused expression.
Following his arrival at the Burrow two days ago, Harry had expected that it would be he who became flustered in the presence of Molly Weasley when she learned that he had suddenly turned up in the role of Ginny's boyfriend. (Even though he must leave her behind when he, Ron and Hermione set off in search of the four remaining Horcruxes, he and Ginny had agreed to part amiably, with Harry promising that they would resume their aborted relationship when his mission to destroy Voldemort was completed.)
To his surprise and delight, Molly announced that Harry had been the only boy she had ever thought worthy of her youngest child and only daughter. This news made Harry blush a bit, though not nearly as much as it did Ginny. Now that they were under her mother's scrutiny, Ginny seemed evermore ill-at-ease displaying her feelings for Harry. It had become necessary for them to sneak off to secluded spots, like the paddock on the hill where the Weasley children had so often practiced Quidditch, for a brief spate of cuddling and kissing. Harry, perhaps inheriting a portion of his father's Marauder daring, had become somewhat of a master at finding every opportunity to be alone with Ginny where her mother could not see them. They had little enough time left before Harry must leave, and they determined to enjoy these remaining days to their fullest. Merlin only knew when they would see each other again -- if at all, he added grimly to himself.
He watched now as Ginny disappeared through the back door leading to the Weasleys' kitchen. Molly did not follow, but dashed around the house and out of sight, no doubt seeing to some detail of the wedding.
Seeing his chance, Harry rose to his feet smoothly. Sitting to one side, Ron and Hermione were gazing up at the cloud-dotted sky, seemingly oblivious to anyone and anything but each other. Grinning, Harry sprinted for the back door. If he could waylay Ginny in the kitchen before she was finished pouring the drinks, they could enjoy a few minutes' privacy before Molly returned.
But when Harry entered the kitchen, he found it deserted. He saw the pitcher of lemonade, its flanks frosty, indicating that Molly had used a Chilling Charm on it against the heat of the July day. Wondering where Ginny had gone, Harry entered the parlor, but found it quite as deserted as the kitchen. Where had Ginny gone?
Probably gone off to the loo, he thought with a chuckle. Then a sudden notion struck him. We've never snogged in the loo.
In fact, that was probably the only place in the entire castle where they hadn't snogged in their brief tenure as the "hottest couple at Hogwarts." Harry grinned in a fashion so as to make him recall the face of his godfather. Feeling as if both his dad and Sirius were hovering over him with their thumbs raised high, Harry stole up the crooked staircase, the rubber soles of his trainers making no sound on the rickety steps.
He came to the landing of the floor whereon the loo reposed, but when he looked down the hallway he found the door open, indicating that the space beyond was unoccupied. He looked disappointed for a moment, but his smile returned quickly. If she was not in the loo, there was only one logical place left for her to be. He and Ginny had snogged in her room before, but that was no reason not to do it again, and there was no time like the present.
The door to Ginny's room was ajar. Faint noises coming from within indicated that Ginny was indeed inside. Harry wondered if he could peer around the door without Ginny seeing him. He wanted to surprise her if he could; he enjoyed sneaking up on her unawares and planting an unexpected kiss on her rose-colored lips. The expression that always appeared on her face was almost as enjoyable as the kiss itself.
Not wanting to miss another opportunity to see that delicious look of surprise in her wide brown eyes, Harry turned and slunk up the stairs to the room he shared with Ron. He opened his trunk (thank goodness he had taken Hermione's advice to keep the hinges well oiled) and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak. With a throaty chuckle, he pulled the cloak over his head and slipped back down to stand outside Ginny's door. He listened for a moment, then peered around the door and looked inside.
Ginny had her back to him. She was bending over something -- something that was making a funny, bubbling noise. Curious, Harry slipped inside. The door creaked a little, and Ginny looked around in alarm. Harry held his breath as Ginny stood frozen for a moment. At last she sighed with apparent relief, deciding, perhaps, that a gust of wind had made the door creak. His curiosity rising, Harry entered the room and edged silently around Ginny. What he saw nearly made him gasp out loud.
Ginny was tending to a small cauldron filled with bubbling potion. It was sitting over a cluster of bluebell flames, which he knew Ginny had learned to conjure through Hermione's patient instruction. Harry's confusion grew. What in the world was Ginny doing brewing potion now? Had it something to do with the wedding? Was she perhaps concocting something that would make Fleur frigid on her and Bill's wedding night? Given Ginny's feelings toward Fleur, it was a definite possibility. Leaning closer, Harry gazed into the mouth of the cauldron. His jaw dropped.
The potion bubbling merrily atop the bright blue flames was shimmering with a soft mother-of-pearl sheen. Looking closer, Harry saw tiny spirals of steam rising from the surface of the liquid. There was no doubt in his mind what this potion was.
But why? Why in the name of Voldemort was Ginny brewing Amortentia in her room?
Shifting his gaze from the contents of the cauldron and back onto Ginny, he saw her reach into a pocket and pull out two small crystal phials. Each was topped with a rubber stopper, one white, one red. Ginny took up a ladle and carefully poured a small measure of the potion into each phial. This done, she did not stopper the bottles, but went to her bedside table and opened a drawer. Following silently, Harry saw her extract a small plastic bag. This was filled with a substance Harry could not at once identify. It looked at first glance like a small, furry animal with a reddish coat. Ginny opened the bag and used her thumb and index finger to withdraw a single strand. Harry realized that the substance was hair -- human from the look of it, though he was no proper judge of such things.
Closing the bag carefully, Ginny took the single hair she had extracted and dropped it into one of the phials of potion. The liquid hissed briefly as it consumed the hair. Nodding, Ginny corked the phial with the red stopper and slipped it into her pocket. Turning her attention to the remaining phial, she deftly plucked a short red hair from the nape of her neck and dropped it into the potion. When it had ceased hissing, Ginny corked it with the white stopper. She slipped the phial into the pocket where the first had gone, sighing with evident relief.
Too stunned at what he had just witnessed to think or move, Harry roused himself just in time to avoid Ginny bumping into him as she dashed out of her room and down the stairs. He followed her silently, keeping her flowing red hair in sight all the way down to the kitchen. Once there, she quickly poured four glasses of lemonade. Setting the frosty pitcher aside, she took out the two phials and, setting the white-stoppered one on the counter, uncorked the red-topped one and emptied the contents into the first glass on the right. That done, she pocketed the empty phial and caught up the white-stoppered one. She poured the pearly liquid into the glass on the left and quickly slipped the depleted phial into the pocket where its companion resided.
It was only when Ginny heaved a deep sigh that Harry remembered to breathe himself. He watched as Ginny placed the four glasses on a tray, one at a time. She paused, her forehead wrinkling. She stared at the glasses quizically, pointing a finger first at one glass, then at another, then back again. Her puzzled expression deepened.
"The glass with Ron's hair is second from the right," Harry said flatly as he pulled off the Invisibility Cloak. Ginny let out a scream and stumbled back into one of the chairs ringing the kitchen table. Harry calmly folded his cloak and set it on the counter beside the glasses and the pitcher.
"Why, Ginny?" he asked, his voiced laced with such pain as he never thought he could feel. "In God's name, why?"
Ginny let out a mournful sob as her face fell into her hands. Harry sat down in the chair next to her. He made as if to reach out and place his hands on her shoulders, but suddenly he decided that touching Ginny was the last thing he wanted to do right now.
"Why?" he asked again, using the same quiet voice that Dumbledore used to use on him, which effect was always more pronounced than any shout. "How long have you been doing this? What the bloody hell ever possessed you to do such a thing?"
Ginny looked up at Harry, her eyes nearly as red as her hair. Her lips parted soundlessly. Only minutes ago, Harry would have desired nothing more in the world than to lean in and kiss those lips. Now, however, he merely stared at them, waiting for them to answer his question.
Pulling herself together resolutely, Ginny dabbed at her eyes with one of the linen napkins lying stacked on the table in anticipation of the wedding feast. Setting the napkin aside, she looked at Harry squarely. He met her gaze firmly, nor did she finch from the accusation in his eyes, but addressed it in a soft, weary voice.
"I'll tell you exactly why I did it, Harry. Because you're a thick-headed berk who couldn't see a Blast-Ended Skrewt if it was sitting with its bum on your face, that's why."
This answer, spoken in such calm, even tones, made Harry draw back in surprise.
"What are you talking about?"
Ginny sniffed impatiently, stood and began to pace the kitchen slowly. She stopped and turned about to look down at Harry almost condescendingly.
"Do you remember two years ago, when we were all at Grimmauld Place and the owls arrived with the prefect badges?"
Startled by the unexpected nature of the question, Harry said, "Of course."
"And do you remember what Hermione's reaction was when she thought the badge had been sent to you?"
Harry remembered well. "She was dead chuffed. I'll never forget the look on her face when I told her that the badge was Ron's, not mine."
Ginny responded to this with a derisive snort. "Never forget it, will you? That's a laugh!"
"What are you -- " Harry began, thoroughly bewildered, but Ginny cut across him, her Weasley fire rising in her eyes.
"How blind can you be, Harry?" she said. "She was thrilled! Couldn't you see how excited she was at the prospect of you and her sharing prefect duties together? All the time you would have spent together, making rounds, having private chats in the prefects' bathroom? All the moments when it would have been as if you and she were the only two people at Hogwarts?" She snorted again, her eyes growing harder.
"But she -- " Harry stammered. "I mean -- I -- "
Ginny spun on her heel contemtuously, her long red hair swirling about her shoulders in such manner as would normally have doubled Harry's heartbeat in the wink of an eye. She turned on him again, her expression more controlled, yet somehow more dangerous for that.
"When you returned from the D.A. meeting just before the Christmas break and told how Cho had caught you under the mistletoe, how did Ron react?"
Responding without hesitation, Harry said, "He did everything but crow like a rooster."
"And how did Hermione react?"
At this, Harry paused. Ginny's eyes grew a trifle harder.
"Was she happy for you? Did she say 'well done, Harry,' or 'I'm glad you and Cho have finally made it official,' or 'I hope you and she will be very happy together'?
"Er -- " Harry said. Ginny's face darkened as if a cloud had just passed over the sun.
"You bloody idiot," she said in a voice like a blunt weapon. "Couldn't you see how she felt at learning that you and Cho were a couple? It meant that her last hope was gone. It meant that she had lost you."
"Lost me?" Harry said, his head clearing. "Lost me?"
And then it dawned on him.
"But she -- I mean -- Hermione never -- "
"You never saw, you mean," Ginny spat. "No, all you ever saw was your 'best friend', the girl with the massive brain and the teeth to match. The girl with the plain face and hair like an electrified broom tail. You were too busy looking into Cho's beautiful face to see the beautiful soul standing right next to you."
"But -- but -- " Harry was having trouble putting his jumbled thoughts together. "I thought -- she and Ron -- "
"Of course she loves Ron, you daft twit," Ginny said. "She loves both of you. But you're the one she gave her heart to, even though you were too stupid to see it. And when you threw it back in her face -- "
"I never! Harry burst out, rising from his chair. "If I'd known -- "
"If you'd known? Ginny nearly shrieked. "Everyone bloody knew! You were the only one too thick to see it! Look at Ron, always jealous of the time you spent with Hermione -- time you took for granted that he would have given ten years of his life to have with her. Look at Cho! Do you think she would have reacted the way she did in Hogsmeade if you'd gone off to meet any other girl? She knew how Hermione felt about you. Like the rest of us, she reckoned it was only a matter of time before you grew a brain and finally saw what was right in front of you all along."
Harry's stomach lurched. He remembered his row with Cho over the hex Hermione had placed on the D.A. list, which had caused Marietta Edgecomb's face to break out in poisonous-looking purple pustules spelling out the word Sneak. When Harry praised Hermione's spellwork, Cho had replied scathingly, "Of course, if it was darling Hermione's idea..." He had been far too angry then to take proper notice of Cho's words. But now --
"Rita Skeeter saw it," Ginny went on, her voice frosty as the pitcher sitting on the kitchen counter. "Do you think that stuff she wrote about you and Hermione was spun from whole cloth? I understand a bit about how those things work, you know. Dad explained it to us when Rita was writing those horrible things about him after the Quidditch World Cup. It's human nature to want to believe something bad about someone in authority, or someone who's famous, but very few people are stupid enough to swallow an outright lie. A good reporter knows how to take a small truth and wrap it in a web of untruth. That way, no matter how outrageous the lies become, there's always that grain of truth in the heart of it, so people believe.
"Why in Merlin's name do you think Viktor Krum wanted to talk to you about Hermione that time? Never mind how I know. Krum wasn't stupid. Every time he looked into Hermione's eyes, it wasn't his face he saw reflected there, but yours. He could see that seed of truth hidden in Rita Skeeter's web, and he was afraid that it would overwhelm his relationship with Hermione if he didn't act before it could take root."
"But -- but -- " Harry felt as if his brain were on fire. "I told Krum that Hermione wasn't my girlfriend!"
"That's right," Ginny said. "And it was true, wasn't it? But you were too short-sighted to see the deeper truth. Krum knew that Hermione's heart belonged to you. But he also knew that it takes two to dance to the music. Once he learned that you weren't dancing, he realized that he still had a chance with Hermione. Or so he thought."
Harry could not continue standing. His legs seemed to be turning to rubber. He staggered back and sank into his chair again.
"When you told Ron and Hermione about kissing Cho," Ginny asked, "what was Hermione doing?" When Harry responded with a blank expression, Ginny answered for him. "She was writing a letter to Krum, that's what she was doing. Do you know what the two of them had been corresponding about since he went back to Bulgaria? You. Hermione was telling Krum how she still fancied you, but that you still didn't see her as a girl, but only as a 'best mate' like Ron. He kept telling her not to be hasty, that he was sure you'd open your eyes and see the truth. He told her to bide her time and wait. He said an intelligent girl like her would be able to recognize if and when it was time to give up. Wait for a sign, he said, something that couldn't be misconstrued. So she did. And that sign came that night she learned that you and Cho had kissed. It was over. She knew she couldn't pretend any more. That's what she told Krum in that letter, that she realized at last that you would never see her as a girl worth loving, but only as a friend.
"And you know what Krum told her in his next letter?" Ginny paused, holding this revelation over Harry's head like an executioner's sword. "He told her to forget you and find someone who would appreciate her for the wonderful girl she was. Krum really loved her, you know. I think he wanted to marry her. But she didn't love him back. How could she? There was room in her heart for only one. You.
"But now that had changed. Suddenly you weren't in the picture. What was she to do? She knew she was never going to win any beauty contests. And her abbrassiveness hardly endeared her to the boys at Hogwarts. But she didn't have to look for someone to love her, did she? He was already there, just waiting to show her how special he thought she was."
"Ron," Harry said in a dead, hollow voice.
"Ron," Ginny said, her voice cold steel. "Is it so hard to follow? She already loved him as a friend. It was only a short step to the next level. It didn't take her long, either. Do you remember the Patronus she conjured in our last-ever D.A. meeting, the night the Inquisitorial Squad raided us?"
Harry remembered. Though he hadn't given it the slightest thought until this very moment, it came rushing back to him now. An otter. How could he have seen and not spotted it for what it was? But he had been busy chatting up Cho, hadn't he? He'd had no time to analyze everyone's Patronus, though he remembered now that, according to Lupin, each Patronus was individual to its conjurer, a reflection of the thoughts and feelings making up that person's psyche. It was all so clear now. An otter was a member of the weasel family. Weasel. Weasley.
Raising his head now, Harry said in a bewildered voice, "Then why all this rubbish? Why did you have to muck about with their heads -- with my head -- with Amortentia?"
To his surpise, Ginny laughed, an insane twitter devoid of mirth.
"Because my dear, sweet brother is the second biggest git in the world -- you're the first, in case I haven't made that abundantly clear. I knew he wouldn't have the initiative to step in and fill the void that was left inside Hermione when she chucked you out of her heart. And..." Suddenly Ginny's voice took on a plaintive note. "I was afraid that if Ron didn't come around, it would devastate Hermione."
Harry looked questioningly at Ginny, and she let out a faint sound that was half laugh, half sob.
"Hermione thinks she's this strong, independent woman. And she is, for what that's worth. But she also has the biggest heart of anyone I know. And the bigger the heart, the easier it is to shatter. I could see something in Hermione that no one else could, even she herself. Just because she can stand alone doesn't mean she wants to. Hermione is so full of love that I think she'll burst if she doesn't find someone to pour it out onto. She wants to make the entire world a better place. She wants to free house-elves, to gain equal rigthts for werewolves. She lets her love spill over everyone and everything she comes into contact with. But in the end, it's not enough. In the end, she wants what every woman wants. She wants to be loved. She wants someone to give back the love she so freely gives herself. And that's not so much to ask, is it?"
Harry could think of nothing to say that would not make him sound like the biggest idiot that had ever walked the earth. And, in truth, that was exactly how he felt.
"I knew that Ron loved Hermione," Ginny said. "I had no doubt that, in time, he'd grow a pair and declare his feelings for her. But I couldn't take the chance that the thick-headed berk would wait so long that Hermione would have abandoned him as she did you and closed her heart off altogether. Hermione's too smart a girl to waste her valuable time banging her head against a wall. If she chucked you out of her heart, she'd do the same to Ron. Rather than be made a fool twice, she'd have closed herself off completely. I couldn't allow that to happen. I couldn't bear to risk even the slighest chance that the most beautful person I'd ever known would end up alone out of a combination of pride and self-sufficiency.
"So I slipped into the Potions classroom that night -- Ron and Hermione had already told me about the four cauldrons of potion Professor Slughorn had set out. I was fairly sure he wouldn't have vanished them. They're difficult and time-consuming to make, and it would be a waste to dispose of them so casually. At first I thought about hanging back in my own Potions class and nicking a few ounces. But I realized that, since they were really advanced potions, he might not bring them out in an ordinary Potions class. But I was sure he'd use them to test the more advanced classes like yours."
"How did you get in and out without being seen?" Harry could not help himself asking. "How did you get into the Potions storeroom? I know Snape always kept it locked. He accused me more than once of breaking in, though I never did. That was Hermione -- "
"It wasn't that hard," Ginny said almost airily. "I chatted up a seventh-year N.E.W.T. student who was taking Advanced Potions as a career course. I asked him to hang back in class and watch what kind of spell Professor Slughorn used to lock the storeroom. Once I had that, it was easy to look up the counter-spell. Knowledge is power, you know. Hermione taught me that."
Harry swallowed.
"I slipped through the halls under cover of a Disillusionment Charm that I learned from Hermione's Advanced Charms textbook. Not as good as an Invisibility Cloak," she said, eyeing Harry's cloak where it lay folded on the counter, "but it did the job. Mrs. Norris nearly caught me, but I lost her in one of the secret passages. I nicked just enough of the potion to be getting on with," Ginny said with unmistakable pride. "I just needed to get things started while I gathered the ingredients to brew my own batch."
Harry was impressed in spite of himself. Clearly, Ginny was a potions brewer after Hermione's heart. The words stabbed Harry like a knife. Hermione's heart.
"Fred and George got some of the dodgier ingredients for me," she said. "Sent them to me by owl. They never knew what I was up to, of course. With a potion that complicated, a handful of ingredients aren't enough to give anything away.
"I took my cue from you lot and brewed the potion in Moaning Myrtle's loo," she concluded. "When I told her it was to do with you, she promised not to say a word. Fancies you a bit, she does," she added coolly. She took out one of the now empty phials and regarded it blandly. "The addition of the hair personalizes the potion. That's how Romilda Vane doctored the chocolate cauldrons she sent you. Whoever ate them would fall in love with whoever's hair was in them. Just her luck that Ron ate them instead of you, the prat. As if he needed another distraction. With that kind of luck dogging me, it was all the more urgent that I light a fire under Hermione so Ron would stop doubting himself and start looking her way.
"I started slipping small doses into her food and drinks straightaway. I wanted to keep her focused entirely on Ron until he took his head out of his arse and gained a bit of confidence. Well, as to that -- " Ginny snapped her teeth viciously, as if biting the head off a snake. "He got a bit too much confidence, didn't he? Thought he was Merlin's gift to women. So I had to keep dosing Hermione, didn't I? I had to keep her on the hook long enough for Ron to come around."
"And when did I enter the picture?" Harry asked now, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice.
Ginny looked suddenly contrite. "I never stopped fancying you," she said. "But all you ever saw me as was Ron's little sister. I figured as long as I had the potion, I might as well use it to give you a boost at the same time as Hermione. All the while I was with Dean, Hermione kept encouraging me to go after you. You'd split up with Cho -- and it was all too clear that you still didn't see Hermione the way she always hoped you would. I figured it was time to take her advice.
"Maybe I should have felt guilty," she said heavily. "I knew there was still an open wound inside Hermione that only you could heal. But I told myself that you'd never come around. And she had Ron now, didn't she? All's fair in love and war, right?" A strained smile flickered briefly across the pale oval of her face. "And I was always convinced that you really did fancy me, down deep inside. Needless to say, when the potion started to work, no one ever suspected that your sudden fancy was anything but natural. After a time, I began to believe it myself."
"But in spite of that..."
Harry did not finish the thought. Ginny nodded, her eyes not meeting his.
"When Hermione learned that I was starting to fancy you," Harry said bemusedly, "she seemed genuinely happy, not like someone who -- "
"Of course she was happy for you," Ginny said sharply. "That's the way Hermione is. She always wanted you to be happy. If it couldn't be with her, she was unselfish enough to want you to be happy with me."
Harry had just remembered something.
"The day Professor Slughorn showed us the four cauldrons, I smelled the Amortentia before I knew what it was. It made me think of a flowery smell I associated with the Burrow. I didn't know what it was until I smelled it on your hair later that day. That's when I had the first inkling that I fancied you. And that was before you nicked the potion from the storeroom. Don't you see? You never needed to dose me at all."
To Harry's astonishment, Ginny tossed her magnificent head back and laughed. Regaining her composure, she looked piteously into Harry's bewildered eyes.
"That was Hermione's shampoo I was using. It's a Muggle brand I'd never heard of. She said she'd been using it for ages, as far back as she can remember. She said she's never left for Hogwarts without at least two bottles in her trunk. I told her I liked the way it made her hair smell, so she gave me a bottle for my birthday last August. I started using it after I got to Hogwarts. If the Amortentia made you think of that fragrance in connection to the Burrow, it wasn't my hair you were smelling. It was Hermione's."
Harry felt stunned. He distinctly remembered the moment when, following the Potions class, Ginny's hair had passed under his nose, imparting the same fragrance he'd smelled in the Amortentia. It was natural for him to make the connection. He had never smelled that fragrance in Hermione's hair. But then, he realized with a sick feeling, when had he ever allowed himself to be close enough to Hermione to smell her hair properly? That was not something one did with a friend, after all. In all the time he had known Hermione, Harry could not recall a single instance when he wanted to reach out and run his fingers through her hair. Well, it wasn't exactly the kind of hair that inspired one toward such fancies, was it? It was thick and bushy, a stark contrast to the long, shining curtain spilling silkily down Cho's back -- and Ginny's.
Feeling as if he might be sick, Harry bent his head and covered his eyes with his hands. When he lifted his head again, tears were burning his eyes. He looked into Ginny's face and saw that she was crying, too.
"I wanted Hermione to be happy with someone who truly loved her," she said feebly. "And Ron does. All I did was...speed things up a bit."
Harry rose unsteadily, still feeling as if he had been hit by a Jelly-Legs Jinx. He turned about absently and found himself staring out the kitchen window into the garden beyond. He saw Ron and Hermione, still sitting where he had left them, his left hand holding her right. Harry turned away, feeling as if he were watching something he should not. When he turned his head, he found himself staring directly into Ginny's eyes.
"You have to tell them," Harry said.
"How can I?" Ginny almost sobbed. "Look how happy they are. They're in love."
"It's false love," Harry countered. "That's what Professor Slughorn said. Amortentia doesn't create love. It creates an infatuation -- an obsession. You must have heard from Ron about how Hermione set those mad canaries on him that time. She wasn't herself at all. She was complely round the twist."
"But that was just an aberration," Ginny said, her eyes pleading. "The potion didn't create anything, it just heightened what was already there. You know Ron's always loved Hermione. And she loves him. That was true before the Amortentia entered into it."
"If that's true," Harry replied, "then nothing will be lost by telling them the truth. They can carry on as they have been, only now they'll know what they're feeling is real, not something they got out of a cauldron."
But there was something strained about Harry's voice as he spoke, a sensation as if his throat were growing tight, that communicated itself to Ginny. He was recalling Ginny's description of Hermione as "the most beautiful person I've ever known." Harry allowed his eyes to return to the scene in the back garden, and he felt a tightness in his chest that made it difficult for him to breathe.
She is beautiful, he realized, feeling like a blind man suddenly given sight. All their years together, their shared triumphs and tragedies, rushed over him in a tide of bittersweet memories that overwhelmed his senses. How could he have known her for so long and not seen? She's the most beautiful girl I've ever known. No, he amended, the most beautiful woman.
He realized that Ginny's hand was on his arm. Oddly, her touch did not produce the familiar tingle. He turned and looked at her. To his surprise, she was smiling.
"That's why I dosed you, Harry. Because I knew that, sooner or later, you'd see. And I wanted Ron to have his chance before that happened."
Harry walked Ginny away from the window. He sat down in his chair wearily. For a moment, Ginny looked as if she would seat herself in his lap, as she had done on countless occasions before. Instead, she resumed her seat in the chair next to Harry's.
"How can we tell them?" Ginny said plaintively.
"We can't," Harry said. A wave of relief swept over Ginny's face. "But you're dumping that potion down the loo," he said coldly. "And I want your promise that you'll never do anything like this again."
"I promise," Ginny said in a faint voice laced with shame.
Harry leaned over and kissed Ginny on the cheek. Tears began to leak from her eyes.
"It's over, isn't it?"
Harry nodded.
"You love her," she said simply.
"Yes," Harry said thickly.
"What will you do?"
"First, I'll wait for the Amortentia to wear off."
"And then?"
To her surprise, Harry smiled.
"You said Hermione loves me enough to give me up. Can I do any less for her?" Ginny's eyes went wide with shock. "But if Ron wants Hermione," Harry said forcefully, "he's going to have to win her properly. Best mate or no, I don't intend to just stand back and let Ron have the most beautiful witch in the world without a fight. I don't know how things will turn out. Maybe it's too late for me. Maybe I've already used up all the good fortune I've been allotted just staying alive for so long against such incredible odds. But when the smoke clears, Hermione will never have any doubts again about how much she's loved. And if she chooses Ron in the end, all I can say is, he'd bloody well never make her cry the way he's done or I'll have his guts for wand cores."
Ginny slipped her arm through Harry's. He smiled into her tear-streaked face.
"Pour that lemonade down the sink and make up a fresh batch, will you?" Ginny nodded and complied with all haste. When four fresh glasses were filled, they each took two and moved toward the door.
"Harry," Ginny said with a trace of fear she could not disguise, "do you think you can do it? Can you find the four Horcruxes and then destroy You-Know-Who?"
"I have to believe it," Harry said. "If I didn't, I couldn't go on. I have to believe with all my mind and heart that we'll win through."
"I believe you will," Ginny said.
Looking through the screen door at the pair sitting tranquilly under the tree, Harry said resolutely, "I have two wars to fight now. And I'm going to win them both. By whatever means necessary."
And he and Ginny walked out into the back garden, the screen door slamming shut behind them with a note of finality.