Unofficial Portkey Archive

Author's Note

Enjoy. See you Thursday.

Janie xoxo

SORCERERS' NOOK

By JanieB

CHAPTER TEN

In which Molly paces and worries, Frewin's slumber is disturbed by rocking chairs and chatter, Harry spends the night on the couch and Ginny moves out…

Molly Weasley was wringing her hands as she paced the floor beside her bed, her pale blue nightgown billowing around her ankles.

`Molly, dear, come to bed and stop worrying so!' pleaded her husband.

`Oh, Arthur, I know I should be angry at Harry, but for some reason I'm not!'

`That's because you're worried about him, dear. You've always worried about him. He'll be fine. Ginny will be fine. They just need time. So stop worrying and come to bed.'

Almost absent-mindedly, Molly climbed into bed beside her husband and pulled the patchwork duvet up to her chin.

With a sigh of relief, Arthur murmured `Nox,' to put the candles out and then rolled over to cuddle up to his wife.

`Do you think Bill and Fleur and Charlie and Cordelia were upset about it all?'

Arthur suppressed a sigh. `It certainly didn't seem to affect their appetites, dear.'

`Arthur, what do you think Dean's intentions are?'

Rolling his eyes in the dark, Arthur replied patiently, `Molly, frankly I'm not really concerned right now what Dean's intentions are - I'm far more concerned with mine - all of which include sleep! We can discuss this tomorrow to your heart's content, all right dear?'

`Mmmm. Do you think he's comfortable in Ron's old room?'

`Of course he is.'

`Will Ginny be annoyed when she finds out we put a little Sleeping Draught in her cup of tea?'

`I think she'll thank us, dear.'

`Should we owl Harry?'

Arthur sighed. `Let's think about that tomorrow.'

`What -'

`Tomorrow.'

`But -'

`Good night, dear.'

*

Frewin, the Nook's "house owl", was woken just before sunrise by the creaking of the two rocking chairs in the portrait over the fireplace. Having not long returned from a night's hunting, he stared at them balefully for disturbing his sleep before once more tucking his head under his wing.

`Emrys, where is he? He hasn't come home!' fretted the elderly woman, the pace of her rocking much faster than that of her companion.

`Don't worry sweetheart - he's probably just staying with some friends; he did leave with Ginevra, didn't he? And she's not yet come home either; you know what youngsters are like these days,' her husband replied placidly.

`But Emrys, what if he's hurt?'

`Verity, I'm sure if he was hurt, he would be taken very good care of, so there's no need for you to worry.'

`I suppose you're right, but I just know I'll worry until he comes home.'

`You do that sweetheart, if it makes you feel better.'

For a few minutes, the only sound to be heard was that of the two rocking chairs, creaking. Then the old woman spoke again.

`Emrys, did you know that he has no idea about his real father? He thinks his stepfather is his father!'

`How is it you know that dear?' asked Emrys, straightening in his chair and looking at his wife with interest.

Verity smiled smugly. `His mother and her husband popped in for a visit the other day; you were having a nap at the time.'

Emrys frowned disapprovingly at his wife. `You peeked, didn't you?'

Verity fussed with her apron, smoothing it over her lap. `Just a teeny little peek. I just had to know if he was who I thought he was!'

Emrys sighed. `Sweetheart, you mustn't do that - it's not ethical!'

`Oh, pish tosh! Neither of them even noticed!'

Emrys sighed again. `Verity, you especially shouldn't go peeking into the heads of Muggles - you never know what you might do to their non-magical minds!'

Verity sniffed, as if deeply hurt by the suggestion that she was less than capable; once again, the only audible sound was that of their rocking chairs.

`All right, sweetheart, I give in. Tell me what you found,' said Emrys in a resigned voice five long minutes later.

Verity smiled a very small smile before smoothing down her perfectly smooth apron. `Well, I was right - Dean Thomas is Alexander Riley's son, although he has no idea that's the case, and of course we know Alexander never told his Muggle wife he was a wizard and an Auror. It's all rather complicated because I've learnt that after Dean received his letter from Hogwarts, his mother did wonder about her first husband; however, since she wasn't certain, she decided to say nothing to Dean and so she let him grow up thinking Cary Thomas was his father. Now, Dean did ask his mother and stepfather about their families, because he's certain there must be another witch or wizard in amongst their relatives, but of course there isn't. And his mother doesn't see any point now in telling Dean about his real father - especially since she has no idea why he left her and Dean. She believes he simply abandoned them and she doesn't want Dean to know something hurtful like that.'

Emrys shook his head in amazement. `You really are something, sweetheart, you know that? So, are you planning on saying something to Dean?'

`Not as such,' said Verity by way of explanation; despite finding this rather unsatisfactory, Emrys knew better than to press his wife for any further information if she didn't wish to give it.

`You will keep me up-to-date though, won't you sweetheart?' asked her husband wryly.

Verity cast him a slightly disparaging look. `Of course I will, dear.'

*

Hermione woke to sunlight streaming through her window, dappled by the willow outside. She smiled at the sight and stretched, then put her hands beneath her head as she gazed out the window, recalling the events of the previous evening and going over them once more in her mind. She was just wondering about Dean going to the Burrow with Ginny and then being invited to stay for dinner, when she heard the faint chink of a cup being put back onto a saucer.

Ginny must be back, she thought, quickly throwing off the covers. Dropping her feet to the floor and sliding them into her waiting slippers, she reached for her dressing gown on the end of the bed, pulling it on as she walked.

At the archway opposite the front door, Hermione stopped in utter surprise. Harry was sitting at the table with a cup of tea, reading the paper. He looked up when she appeared and gave her a lopsided smile.

`Morning,' he said, `feeling better?'

Hermione put her hands on her hips, her head tilted to one side. `I'm fine - but, Harry, what on earth are you doing here?'

From his basket over beside the fireplace, Crookshanks miaowed loudly as though underscoring his mistress' question.

`Come and sit down and have some tea and I'll tell you,' he said, reaching for the teapot that Hermione only then noticed was sitting on the table, together with another cup and saucer. As she reached the table, Hermione "tched" in disgust and gave up pushing her fingers through her unbrushed, tangled curls in an attempt to tame them.

`Looks fine to me,' Harry told her with a grin as Hermione sat down. It actually looks downright sexy, Miss Granger, Harry thought to himself, although Hermione's wry, unthinking comment, `You're as bad as Ron,' wiped the grin off his face.

Hermione stirred some milk into her tea, then picked up her cup and looked at Harry expectantly over the rim as she sipped delicately at the hot contents.

`I actually spent the night here,' Harry began, nodding his head in the direction of the couch behind him. Hermione looked past him and saw a pillow sitting atop a folded blanket, then putting her cup down, she frowned in puzzlement.

`Why did you do that? What's wrong?' She didn't need to ask how he got in - she knew he simply would've Flooed.

Harry folded the Daily Prophet he'd been reading and put it aside. Underneath lay a piece of grey parchment with black, scrawled writing. Harry picked it up and handed it wordlessly to Hermione, watching her intently as she read; he knew the contents off by heart, having read them countless times during the night.

The Disciples of the Dark One are rejoicing for they have at last found the Enemy.

You, Harry Potter, are the Enemy.

You committed an unforgivable act: You vanquished the First Disciple of the Dark One, and in doing so, condemned the Dark One to the Abyss.

Through the devotion of his Disciples, the Dark One has been resurrected, and now retribution can be exacted from you.

We, the Disciples of the Dark One, inform you thus so that when firstly, those close to you die and at the last, you die, you will know at whose hand and why.

Retribution begins.

He knew when she'd reached the end because her eyes stopped moving and she simply stared at the parchment, speechless, for a few seconds. As she slowly lifted her eyes to look at Harry, he could see the fear in Hermione's that he'd felt himself. As he watched, he saw a calm fury, tempered by determination, banish the fear.

`Where did you get this?' asked Hermione, her voice tight and low.

Harry explained and Hermione looked disappointed. `So there's no real way of finding out who handed over this particular parchment,' she lamented.

`Probably not - Ron said there was quite a crowd and the desk-witch was pretty overwhelmed and flustered; I doubt she'd remember at all.'

`Voldemort was the First Disciple of this Dark One.' It was a flat statement.

`My thought, too,' said Harry.

Hermione's brown eyes bored into his. `So what do you make of this Dark One? And why couldn't he protect his precious First Disciple? Where was he when you defeated Tom Riddle?

`Must've been busy with some evil problem at home, wherever that is.' Harry grinned at her and Hermione could only grin in return.

Then more soberly, Hermione said, `You were worried something might happen to me, weren't you?'

Harry knew she was alluding to him sleeping on the couch.

Harry nodded. `"Retribution begins" sounded pretty immediate to me, and you were the first person I thought of.'

Hermione gave him an odd look. `I suppose since I was the last person you saw,' she said.

Harry nodded again, avoiding her gaze. And the person who means the most to me, he added to himself.

`What about everyone else? Or am I the only one who can't look after herself?' Hermione's voice was casual, but Harry knew he'd unwittingly hit a nerve. His face tightened visibly. `I can't be with everyone at once,' he said tersely, sounding as though he wished he could. `And for the record, Hermione Granger, I am more than aware of just how capable you are of looking after yourself - more aware than any other wizard alive, save Ron. I do, however, uphold my right to worry about you as well as my right to my protective instinct.' Harry took a deep breath. `Besides, you're my best friend - you are very important to me and I love you.' Harry felt a spurt of triumph at successfully telling Hermione he loved her in a perfectly acceptable way.

Hermione gazed at him for a moment, then nodded slowly. `I understand,' she said quietly, `and I would - do - feel the same.'

`I know,' he said, meeting her gaze. Their eyes held each other's for a heartbeat, then the spell was broken as Hermione picked up her teacup, saying briskly, `Well, I know what I'll be doing tomorrow when I get to work.'

`I'll be coming with you, if that's all right,' Harry told her, grateful for the return to discussing everyday life and grinning when Hermione pulled a face and groaned.

`They should be used to seeing me by now,' Harry assured her.

Hermione fixed him with a sceptical look. `That's what you said last time. Wishful thinking, Harry.'

Harry shrugged. `Just ignore them. That's what I try to do.'

Hermione grinned at him then, a mischievous sparkle in her eye. `You could wear a disguise.'

This time it was Harry's turn to groan. `Not funny, Hermione! I refuse to resort to such ridiculous tactics.'

`Harry, when every witch under a hundred in my Department stops smiling coyly, batting their eyes and just plain drooling the second they spot you, I'll stop suggesting such ridiculous tactics.'

`Why can't we just Floo directly into your office?' Harry asked plaintively.

Hermione sighed. `Harry, you know as well as I do no one in the Department can do that for security reasons - it'd be chaos.' Then she flashed him a smile. `You'll just have to face your fans.'

`You don't have to sound so damned amused by it,' grumbled Harry, as Hermione's smile became laughter.

*

That same morning, Ginny was momentarily startled on waking, wondering for a second where she was. Then she remembered she was at the Burrow, in her old room. With that realisation came the memory of the previous night's events; as they came crashing in on her, she buried her face in her pillow so that she could groan and curse without being overheard.

Damn you Harry! Damn you, damn you and damn you again! We were supposed to live happily ever after! We were supposed to be blissfully happy and have children and love each other for ever! Hot angry tears flooded her eyes, soaking into her pillow. She'd said as much to her mother the night before as they sat together on the couch after dinner. After Bill and Fleur left with Charlie and Cordelia, and Dean was taken to Ron's old room, she'd had time alone with her parents. Her father had been sitting in his favourite armchair, apparently trying to listen to the radio and let the women talk.

`I'm so sorry my dear,' crooned Molly as she sat, her arm around her daughter's shoulders; Ginny's head was nestled in the crook of her mother's neck, a miserable expression on her tear-stained face.

`It's not always the first person you love that you end up marrying,' her father said gently, turning the radio off, his mind not really on it.

`What about you and Mum?' cried Ginny.

Arthur cleared his throat. `Well, I must say I never loved anyone before your mother.'

Ginny heard her mother sigh. `Oh, Arthur, you can't seriously still be put out about that after all these years?' Her mother sounded distinctly exasperated to Ginny's ears.

Arthur shrugged, steepling his fingers, his elbows resting on the arms of his seat; it seemed as though something on the ceiling had caught his eye as he was gazing fixedly at a point above their heads.

`No, no, not at all.'

Molly clicked her tongue.

`Mum, what's Dad talking about?' asked Ginny.

`Nothing, dear.'

Arthur was instantly overcome with a paroxysm of coughing and Ginny barely caught her mother's irritable, `Oh, for goodness' sake!'

Ginny sat up, looking from her mother to her father and back again. `What happened? What are you both talking about?' she demanded.

`Since your mother tends to gloss over the details, I'll explain it,' said her father in a pained voice, straightening his spectacles which had come askew during his coughing fit.

So it was that Ginny learnt that her father had fallen for the very pretty and popular Molly Prewett during their first year at Hogwarts.

`What?' cried Ginny amazed. `At eleven?'

Her father nodded sagely. `I knew even then,' he told her.

`Slight exaggeration,' whispered Molly to Ginny, but she didn't interrupt as Arthur continued.

`I sat by, watching, as the girl I adored grew into the woman I loved and knew I would one day marry.'

`That's very poetic, Dad,' said Ginny admiringly.

`I could always be poetic about your mother,' her father replied, winking at his wife. `There was just one small hitch in my grand plan to live happily ever after with her - she didn't love me.' Arthur paused and Molly chuckled.

`Are you serious?' asked Ginny, looking from her solemn faced father to her smiling mother.

`Completely,' her mother told her. `While he loved me, I loved someone else.'

`Owen Wallace,' said Arthur, his tone of voice suggesting he'd just revealed the name of something nasty and contagious.

`He was a Gryffindor too,' Molly explained with a far away look in her eyes, `in the year above us. I fell for him my first night at Hogwarts - spotted him during the Sorting Ceremony.'

Arthur snorted derisively. `Her and just about every other witch at Hogwarts.'

`He was handsome, funny, clever and nice.'

`Sounds like Harry,' said Ginny quietly.

`Well, yes, a little - although he wasn't quite as swashbuckling as Harry -'

`"Swashbuckling?"' repeated Ginny, unable to prevent a chuckle from escaping her. `You make him sound like a pirate!'

`I was actually thinking more "hero" than "pirate",' laughed Molly.

`It's just that I feel as though I've loved Harry nearly all my life,' Ginny told her mother, tears welling in her eyes again.

`I know just how you feel,' her mother said tenderly. `That's how I felt about Owen, and I met him almost at the same age as you met Harry. He was always polite and nice and helpful - and -'

`She was his girlfriend for nearly two years,' said Arthur flatly, sounding as though he was still disgusted by this fact all these years later. `And don't you dare sit there and reminisce, Molly Weasley - you know how it upsets me!'

`Then perhaps it should be your turn to go and make a pot of tea, dear,' said Molly.

With a loud "humph!" Arthur pushed himself out of his armchair and plodded off to the kitchen.

`Now,' said Molly as she took Ginny's hands, `I can tell you my side of the story without being interrupted.'

Ginny looked at her mother almost in awe. `Mum, I just never thought about you and Dad being - well, being young and in love and all that sort of thing!'

Molly chuckled. `No child ever does. I think what your father wants me to tell you is how convinced I was about Owen being the wizard for me. And Dad was right; Owen was my boyfriend for two years - my fifth and sixth year - his sixth and seventh. He told me he loved me and I told him the same. We made plans. We spent all our spare time together - whether it was Hogsmeade trips, studying in the common room or researching in the library. Even in the holidays we always saw each other. I hardly knew your father existed. Oh, he'd asked me out a couple of times - but I only ever had eyes for Owen. I was so confident my happiness lay with Owen, I even told my mother that one day I would be Molly Wallace.'

`What did Grandma say?' asked Ginny.

`Not much,' said Molly with a wry smile. `She just told me she was very happy for me. I think what she didn't say was that she'd wait and see.'

`Wait and see?' queried Ginny.

Molly nodded. `Wait and see - whether it all lasted.'

`Did you feel like that about Harry and me?' asked Ginny curiously.

Molly nodded. `A little. I have to admit I hoped it would last once you and Harry became girlfriend and boyfriend, but I knew from experience that there was an equally good chance it wouldn't.'

Ginny sighed. `I just had so many dreams about -'

`Living happily ever after?' put in Molly.

Ginny blushed. `I know it sounds stupid, but -'

Molly spoke firmly. `No, Ginny, not stupid - never stupid. I wasn't going to say that at all. Your father and I have always believed in having dreams and pursuing them and fulfilling them - especially now for our children. But sometimes, if a dream isn't fulfilled, you take a little time to get over it and then you move on. You create a new dream for yourself. Do you know, our dream now is for all our children to be happy in their lives. I think that's most parents' dream. And while it feels sad for you right now, you will eventually come to know that your happiness isn't tied up with being with Harry.'

`So what happened with you and Owen? And why didn't you tell me about this before?'

`Well, until you've been in love yourself I don't think it would make much sense, do you?' Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded in agreement as Molly continued, `And Owen? Well, we weren't able to see each other after he finished at Hogwarts. His family moved to France, where his father had been given a job in the French Ministry of Magic. Even though we wrote - every week to begin with - eventually, it sort of slowly petered out. I was heartbroken at first, but I got over it. And your father helped, of course.'

`So you got together in your last year at Hogwarts?' asked Ginny, and Molly nodded.

`Is it safe to come back now?' came Arthur's voice from the doorway, accompanied by the rattling of teacups and saucers on the tray he was carrying.

Ginny and Molly both laughed. `Yes, dear, perfectly safe,' Molly told him.

`By the way, Ginny,' said Arthur as he set the tea tray down on the small table in front of the couch, `why did Dean come with you?'

Ginny shrugged. `He helped me downstairs with my suitcase when I was coming here and insisted on Flooing with me to help me with it here in case there was no one home.'

`I see,' said Arthur, sharing a knowing look with his wife.

`Didn't you go out with Dean at Hogwarts?' Molly asked Ginny, taking the cup of tea offered to her by her husband.

Ginny nodded absentmindedly. `Yes, but that was years ago.'

Arthur caught her eye then and raised his eyebrows as he handed her a cup of tea.

`You think it's impossible for him to still like you?' he asked her gently.

Ginny frowned thoughtfully at him. `Hermione was saying something about that last night - but I told her it was nonsense.'

`Maybe not,' said Arthur.

`Don't worry about it now, dear,' advised Molly. `But you would probably get quite a lot of comfort from accepting any help Dean offers. He's still your friend, and he's obviously more than happy to help you and no,' she emphasised on seeing her daughter's cynical expression, `accepting his help doesn't mean you have to then commit yourself to him or anything like that. Accept it in the spirit in which it's given - friendship.'

Arthur nodded in agreement. `That's what I thought too, dear.'

It was shortly after that, that Ginny had drained her teacup and yawning, announced she was going to bed.

As she hugged her mother tightly, Molly whispered, `Please don't say anything about this to anyone, will you, Ginny? It does upset your father.'

`I won't and thanks Mum, I do feel a bit better now,' Ginny whispered back.

Ginny then crossed to her father and dropped a loving kiss on the top of his head before hugging him as well.

`Thanks, Dad, you both helped me a lot.'

A minute later, when the sound of Ginny's door closing reached them, Arthur chuckled. `Never fails,' he said proudly. `I'm most grateful to Owen Wallace -'

`And I'm most grateful to Rowena Wallace,' put in Molly, beaming. `That was quite a clever idea of yours, dear, back when Bill suffered his first heartbreak.'

Arthur sighed. `That'll be the last time we'll need either Owen or Rowena,' he said wistfully.

`Oh, they might be needed again one day, dear; once we have grandchildren. First loves and heartbreak often seem to go hand in hand.'

*

Since he was already there, Hermione asked Harry to join her for breakfast.

`Making your usual Sunday omelette?' asked Harry hopefully.

Hermione laughed. `Yes, and I take it you'd like one too?'

`I'll help,' said Harry as he nodded, grinning; they both stood up and took their empty cups and the teapot over to the kitchen bench and Harry added, `I'll set the table and make some fresh tea.'

While Harry went about his self-appointed chores and Hermione began chopping up ham and grating cheese, Harry said gratefully, `Thanks, Hermione. I really don't want to be alone today. I think having company will really help.'

`That's what friends are for, and I'm glad of the company, too,' she told him with a gentle smile.

As he put two placemats on the table, Harry picked up the grey parchment and frowned. `Maybe we should Floo or owl everyone today and let them know about the possible danger. What do you think?'

Hermione put her knife down and looked thoughtfully over at Harry. `I'm not sure, perhaps it's best if we find out something more, first. I mean, there's nothing to really tell, not yet.' Hermione paused and stared off into the distance for a few seconds, thinking. `I'm almost certain I'll be able to turn up something at work tomorrow; we can owl everyone then. At least I'll be able to give them something more than just a vague warning.'

Harry put the parchment down again and looked at Hermione pensively. `I don't think we should leave it any later than tomorrow, Hermione. I think we should owl everyone then, regardless.'

Hermione nodded as she said, `You're right, Harry. It would be irresponsible not to warn them.'

She resumed her chopping as Harry slid onto one of the stools at the kitchen bench, the table now set and the kettle on. He looked at Hermione expectantly. `Who exactly should we write to?' he asked.

`I think we should write to Ron,' replied Hermione, `and he'll tell Luna, Seamus and Colin, of course. Ginny will probably still be at the Burrow so we'll just write to Mr and Mrs Weasley and they'll tell the rest of the family. And Dean and Neville as well. Oh, and Professor McGonagall! I'll ask her to liaise with the Ministry if she thinks it's necessary.'

`That just about covers it, I'd say,' Harry told her with a lopsided grin.

Hermione gave him a rather grim answering smile. `I'm sure we'll be able to find out something tomorrow,' she said again as she glanced at the parchment on the table, her eyes burning with her customary fervour for finding out. `Perhaps when we write to them, we should also arrange a meeting for next Friday. We can tell them to be careful in the meantime, that we strongly suspect someone is plotting to attack randomly. And here -' she handed him a bowl, a carton of eggs and a whisk, `- make yourself useful.' Harry's eyebrows shot up. Hermione grinned and added, `Please.'

Harry then reached for his wand but Hermione frowned at him. `Harry, no! Do it yourself - it tastes better.'

Harry rolled his eyes but smiled good-humouredly. `If you say so, Hermione.'

`I do say so - no swish and flick - you need to crack and whisk, Harry!'

They were both laughing and so neither heard the front door open. Hermione, still chuckling, glanced up from her cutting board and so it was she who spotted Ginny first, the change in expression on her face causing Harry to turn and look. On seeing Ginny, he shot to his feet, an egg in each hand, his eyes locked with Ginny's. He knew how things would look to her: he and Hermione making breakfast together, sharing a laugh, but he could say nothing for fear of giving anything away to Hermione. He prayed Ginny wouldn't feel the need to say anything, either. In the meantime, Hermione had dropped her knife, wiped her hands on a tea-towel and was already making her way around the bench.

`Ginny! I'm glad you're home,' said Hermione, her relief evident in her voice.

`I'm not staying,' Ginny replied, her face stiff with the effort of maintaining a neutral expression; Hermione faltered, her expression one of surprised confusion. Behind her, Harry put the eggs he was holding in the bowl and stood watching Ginny, waiting.

`I'm going back to the Burrow - I'm not sure for how long.'

`Oh.' Hermione had stopped and was staring at Ginny, her eyes sad and sympathetic at the same time.

Ginny's expression softened at the sight of her friend's obvious compassion and distress. `Come and help me pack,' she said softly, before turning and walking down the hall to her room.

Harry watched them go and then dropped back onto the stool, pushing his hands through his hair. Crap! he thought, angry at the unfairness of Ginny walking into the cosy little scenario he knew he and Hermione would've presented. Not for his sake, but for hers; with the pain he'd already caused her, he didn't want her to think he'd just tossed her aside as though their time together had meant nothing and turned immediately to Hermione. He sat and waited for what seemed an age, determined to have a few words with Ginny before she left. Crookshanks miaowed just as Hermione walked back into the room; Harry could tell she'd been crying and was on his feet in an instant. His long strides had him halfway across the room before Hermione could say anything. Harry took her hands in his, giving them a gentle squeeze.

`You all right?' he asked softly.

Hermione nodded. `Ginny'll be out in a minute. She wants to have a word with you - you should walk her downstairs.'

`Of course,' said Harry. `Actually, I'll go and help her now. But I'll be back for that omelette,' he finished as he let her hands go, lifting his own to frame her face, his thumbs gently wiping the remains of her tears away. Hermione gave him a watery smile and he dropped his hands before stepping around her and heading for Ginny's room, his heart racing from even that small moment of contact with Hermione; he'd wanted to crush her to him, holding her tightly until she was no longer sad, but smiling once more.

When he walked in, it was to see Ginny sitting on the end of her bed, her arms wrapped around herself as she stared at her trunk on the floor beside her.

Harry stopped in the doorway, his hands pushed into his pockets.

`Ginny, I'm sorry you walked in just now and it looked as though -'

Ginny looked at him, her expression unreadable as she waved her hand dismissively. `I know, Harry. You'd've come to cry on Hermione's shoulder even if she wasn't the woman you love.' Harry winced as Ginny continued. `The three of you have always been that way with each other and none of you is even really conscious of it.' She stood up. `I told Hermione I can't live here - so close to you - for the time being, and she understands.'

Harry nodded. `Thank you,' he said gravely, and he knew she would understand he was thanking her for not saying anything to Hermione. `How are your mum and dad?'

Ginny gave a sardonic chuckle. `Mum's worried about you, can you believe it? She didn't actually come out and say so, but I know that look of hers.' Harry looked abashed and Ginny sighed as she continued, `Don't worry, Harry, they don't hate you.' She gazed steadily at him. `And neither do I. Actually, talking to Mum and Dad really helped.'

`I'm really glad you've got them,' said Harry, wondering fleetingly what it would be like to have such parental support.

Ginny nodded then looked at Harry, her eyes full of a heart-rending sadness. `But I no longer have my best friend, and she doesn't even know it,' she whispered, and it was then Harry realised that Ginny's knowledge of his love for Hermione was now a barrier to their friendship. `I wish now I didn't know.'

Harry gazed at her, unable to think of anything he could say that would give her comfort. Then, with a flick of her wand, Ginny's trunk rose a few inches from the floor and waited patiently as she took the few steps that brought her to Harry. Reaching up, she curled her free hand around the back of his neck and at the same time as she exerted pressure to bring his head down, she lifted hers and kissed him, one last time.

`Goodbye, Harry,' she whispered against his lips and he could hear tears in her voice. Then she was gone, her trunk gliding obediently after her.

TO BE CONTINUED…

Author's Note

To make up for planting the picture I imagine you have in your heads after that last little paragraph, here's a sneaky peek at the summary snippet for the next chapter…

CHAPTER ELEVEN

In which Verity and Emrys get chatty, some things are revealed while others are kept hidden; Hermione and Harry get to work on research and at the end of a long day, Harry pampers Hermione who has some rather unsettling thoughts while soaking in the bath and something quite unexpected and rather surprising happens after dinner…

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