Chapter 09
In the Parts of ------, County of London
Ministry of Magic
To Ms. Ginevra Molly Weasley
Of The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, Devon
You are hereby summoned to appear before the Auror Fact-Finding Team , sitting at the Rhisierdyn Hall in Holyhead, Anglesey, Wales in the Parts and County aforesaid on Friday, the 25th day of September instant, at the hour of Ten-thirty in the forenoon, to
give evidence/testimony to a recent case of poisoning at the Harpies victory party last 27th of June, year 2004 held at Trentabank Hall in Macclesfield Forest, Cheshire, UK.
THIS SUMMONS WAS ISSUED AT THE REQUEST OF __Harry James Potter________ ___________
Dated the 22nd day of September Two Thousand Four
Harry James Potter
Senior Auror
Ginny stood staring at the letter in her hand. It came just after lunch. It was just her and her mum in the kitchen. Since the day Ron returned with the Menat necklace (or in Ginny’s mind, The Day Harry Came Back), the cadence of daily life at the Burrow had reverted back to its former beat before Ginny’s pregnancy. The morning after Harry’s Return, Ginny, for the first time in three months, came down to breakfast early, fully showered and dressed. Her dad was so happy to find her already at the breakfast table that he immediately came over to her seat and kissed her on the head. And when it was time for him to leave for work, he stopped and turned around as if he had forgotten something. Then his eyes fell upon Ginny, and he smiled once again, his eyes shining. He walked back to her and hugged her once more even though he had already kissed her and her mum goodbye a few moments ago.
Only Bill and Fleur had stayed over for the night while the rest of her brothers went back to their respective homes. Fleur ate hurriedly and excused herself from the table as soon as she was finished as Victoire was sure to scream her lungs out if she woke up alone in Ginny’s bedroom. Bill followed soon after. As they ate, her mum moaned to the table how she was sorry that Harry had to leave so soon after dinner. Andromeda had Flooed in asking Harry if he could come over because Teddy had been throwing a fit, wanting to know where Harry was and demanding that his godfather stay the night over. What Ginny’s mum didn’t say, however, was Ron’s comment afterwards that if Ginny really wanted to be with Harry, she was going to have to plan sleeping arrangements for both Teddy and Victoire.
Soon after, Fleur came down the stairs carrying a still sleepy Victoire in her arms followed by Bill, himself carrying Dominique in one arm, while his other hand carried baby Louise in a basket carrier. Fleur then walked over to Ginny, leaning over so they could kiss each other on the cheek. Then Fleur presented Victoire’s back to Ginny who brushed her nose against her niece’s back, taking a whiff of the soft, sweet baby smell that Victoire still had. Her niece whinnied her displeasure at being disturbed and Ginny had to smile. Soon Bill’s family too left to go back home to Shell Cottage.
So, for the next couple of days, it was just Ginny and her mum left at the Burrow. Because of the Menat necklace, the family no longer needed to maintain its constant vigil over Ginny and had stopped coming home to the Burrow everyday for either lunch or dinner. They were also giving their mum time for a much needed rest. After spending weeks, months, laboring over dishes, trying to feed her entire brood, her mum deserved the rest. In fact, Mrs. Weasley hardly needed to cook anymore as Angie would often send food to the Burrow.
It would have been a much welcome breather, except it also meant that Harry had not been by to the Burrow in the last two days. That, and the fact that Harry was busy working on the Harpies’ case ever since he arrived, watching the memories Ginny’s brothers had collected. Ginny overheard Ron telling her mum so over the Floo.
At first, she was quite apprehensive about Harry watching her memories of that night, afraid he might see her having sex with another man. Bill had told her everything he’d seen of her own memories of the party. And though Bill said that there was no way to reconstruct fully her memory of that night except what she herself could remember, this was Harry they’re talking about - it would not be far outside the realm of possibility for Harry to do so. Ron assured Ginny, however, that hers was the first memory Harry had studied, and could no more glean any new information from it than what her brothers already had seen.
Ginny sighed. If Harry kept at this pace studying the memories, it would be at least a month before he could drop by the Burrow again. Unless he took time out to visit this coming Sunday, three days hence.
Ginny was about to pick up the stack of dirty plates on the table to hand over to her mum when she happened to look outside the window and spotted a fast moving speck in the distance. As it approached, its powerful flight, its size and tufted ears made Ginny recognize it at once as a Eurasian eagle owl, the owls only Aurors could use. Not all Aurors and not all the time, but the use of these eagle owls had become so exclusive to them that Muggles thought the species had gone extinct in the UK. Aurors used them for the owls were extremely difficult to waylay and often tore their attackers into pieces. Ron, though, much preferred the use of the Floo or the Patronus – he was simply too lazy. But Harry sometimes used the owls as a treat to deliver gifts to Teddy and Ginny’s own nephews and nieces. And now the magnificent bird was flying straight towards her – uhm, well, towards the Burrow, anyway.
“Mum,” Ginny called out to Mrs. Weasley in time so that her mum looked up and immediately opened the window to let the bird in. Despite the length of its wingspan, the owl easily cleared the window, tilting its body slightly so it could fit in. It flew directly in front of Ginny and paused half a foot above the air, pinning Ginny with its intense orange eyes as if to say: I’m delivering to you a message. Then it settled lightly on its feet and very formally extended out a leg so Ginny could remove the parchment that had an official Ministry seal on it. For one foolish second, the romantic sap in Ginny wildly hoped that it was a declaration of Harry’s eternal love. Instead, she received a witness summons.
Eyes fixed on the parchment, Ginny tried to ignore the twinge of disappointment she felt. She could just feel her mum’s anxious eyes boring into her, like the heat of sunlight upon one’s back when the sun was burning its fiercest. Mrs. Weasley could barely contain herself and seemed to almost want to snatch the letter from Ginny’s hand. Ginny then looked up and, without a word, handed the letter over to her mum. Mrs. Weasley ran her eyes quickly over the parchment, her face breaking into a broad grin as she read.
“Harry sure doesn’t waste time, does he?” her mum said after she’d finished, sounding mightily pleased. “It’s only been the third day and the ball has started rolling.” Then quiet, cold anger seeped into her mother’s voice and expression. “Harry will get them, whoever’s responsible for this.”
But then Mrs. Weasley was reminded that Ginny was there. She glanced at Ginny, whose face and expression said nothing and Mrs. Weasley seemed to regret almost at once giving vent to her emotions, betraying to her daughter just how much the entire ordeal was affecting her. She usually kept her emotions in check around Ginny, not wanting to cause her daughter any more stress or worry.
Mrs. Weasley read the letter again, schooling her face into a more placid expression, trying to re-inject the happy, hopeful tone in her voice. “Oh, and it’s tomorrow too. I should Floo your father, make sure he asks for time off tomorrow so he can drive us to – where is it again?” She looked down to read the parchment anew. “Oh, it’s at the Harpies head office. The meeting will be private, then. I’m sure Harry has something to do with it,” Mrs. Weasley said, sounding genuinely happy this time. It was quite obvious that Harry was taking care of Ginny – ehrm, taking care that the case remained private, that is. Formal Auror interrogations were always held at the Ministry. And there were very few Ministry officials powerful enough to change the rules. “I better tell your father then,” she added, hurrying up to the living room. Ginny was left alone with the owl which uncharacteristically stayed behind - mail owls often leave at once as soon as they had delivered their posts.
The eagle owl stood there for a time in front of Ginny, its head tilted forward as if it wanted to be petted. Ginny knew it to be quite a fierce animal; still, she raised her hand and rubbed back the smooth, mottled brown-black feathers on its crown. The owl seemed to enjoy Ginny’s touch, as it leaned its great head further into her hand. Ginny briefly wondered if the bird really was Harry in disguise but dismissed the thought immediately - the Burrow had wards against any and all forms of magical concealment, even Invisibility Cloaks. Then the owl straightened and shook its feathers. It gave Ginny one last penetrating look, slightly unnerving her. It then took a step back, spread out its wings, and propelled itself forward. It flapped its powerful wings once, twice to give itself lift then sailed out of the window, flying as gracefully and majestically as it had come. Ginny watched it fly until it disappeared into a bank of clouds.
Mrs. Weasley came back into the room, her face beaming. “Your dad agreed to take us tomorrow to the Harpies’ Office. Isn’t it just like Harry to work on this so quickly? Ron said he’s been working on the case non-stop since he arrived.”
“Mum, may I see the letter again?” Ginny cut in.
“Oh, goodness,” Mrs. Weasley cried, sounding flustered, holding both hands to her cheeks. “You would want it, won’t you?” She fished for the letter in one of the front pockets of her apron and handed it to Ginny.
Ginny ignored her mum’s slip-up. She didn’t even bother offering an excuse to her mum. Even though she had read its contents, she rather hoped it contained a secret message for her.
If Ginny could run to the privacy of her own room, she would have. But the protection of the Menat necklace didn’t mean she could start acting stupid. Once inside her room, she headed straight towards her desk and sat down. Overnight, it had become her favourite place in the world, where she could endlessly gaze at Harry’s tree. The oak tree had grown so fast that, in a matter of days, it reached fifteen feet in height.
Ginny opened her letter once again and stared at it. The letter was printed, of course, except for Harry’s signature. She traced his handwriting, trying to squeeze whatever personal message she could derive from it. But there was none to be had.
She looked up and sat there gazing at Harry’s tree, its young limbs dancing, creating its own music with every rustle of its leaves as it swayed to a silent breeze. It seemed her plan to avoid Harry at all costs - at least until after the ugly bruise on her face had disappeared - was derailed after all. The formal summons prevented her from doing so. It would be presumptuous of her to think that he was acting with such haste for her sake alone. But it did not surprise her either. It was something she knew of Harry. He never let an investigation idle, probably because of his experience in the last war when a delay meant a cost of life later on.
Ginny leaned forward, cradling her chin in the palm of her hand. How was it possible that she knew so much about him when they’d hardly talked to each other in the last several years? Nothing more than a simple nod or hello, and then he would wander off. But Ginny already knew so much about him just from watching him from a distance, dating back to their Hogwarts years; knew so much that she thought she had become quite an expert in reading his moods. And then Sirius died and everything changed. It felt like Harry had built this wall around him that no one could penetrate unless he permitted it. Still, over the years, she’d learned to pick up bits and pieces about him – most from simply keeping her ears open at the dinner table, George and Ron being her most fertile source of Harry news. And yet, so much about him remained a mystery, so much he kept hidden, Ginny was sure, even to his own best mates.
“quite like it…quite like you.”
The words echoed in her head over again. It had become a mantra now, a prayer in the darkest moments of the last three months… a hope. Was it really possible that Harry did like her? So many women wanted him, more beautiful, wealthier, pedigreed. Was it possible that, of all the women he’d ever met, he would choose her?
She sighed. Tomorrow, then. There was no way around it. She shall soon find out whether there was any reason for her to hope or none at all. A look, a word, she would instantly know. If nothing came of it, then she would just have to be content with being his friend. She’d have to learn to settle for that. For if she could have stopped loving him, then she would have done so years and years ago, when her love for Harry proved to be quite hurtful. But he simply could not live without him in her life. It was no longer a matter of choice. That ship had sailed a long time ago.
The next morning, she found herself once again standing in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection. The tip of the Menat’s plate was just peeking and she tugged her white blouse higher and wrapped her robes tighter around her to try and cover it up. Nobody was supposed to know that she had it, not with the tug-of-war currently being played between the Gringotts goblins and the Ministry over it. She swallowed as the thought of the other pregnant Harpies patients crossed her mind and Ginny wished she could share the Menat necklace with them. And then it suddenly dawned upon her that Sylvie was up north lying in a magical chamber, and Ginny blinked away the tears that threatened to fall. She vowed that as soon as this was all over, she would rush to her friend’s side, trying not to think of the possibility that there would no longer be a Sylvie waiting for her.
A soft knock came from the door and Ginny was grateful for the interruption.
“Ginny?” Her mum’s hesitant voice came in muffled through the closed door.
“Coming.” Ginny answered in as strong a voice as she could muster. She gave herself one final look in the mirror then picked up the Muggle shades off her dresser. It could not cover entirely the bruise on her face, but it was better than nothing.
~o~
Rhisierdyn Hall is a converted mansion built in the motte and bailey castle style. Standing three storeys tall, the red sandstone structure has castellated walls, with an elegant porte-cochère welcoming guests at the northern entrance. From the ground, nothing can be seen of its pitched and slated roofs, hidden behind its battlemented parapets. Here and there, round head windows adorn its façade, shining like brilliant starlights when night has fallen. The interior design, too, is a study in medieval luxurious best with dark wood paneling and mouldings, wrought iron chandeliers, massive fireplaces that can easily accommodate the likes of Hagrid, and other similar decorative features.
After Harry had finished reviewing the memories, he immediately requested a meeting with the owners of the Harpies team and arranged the formal interrogation of their players at a venue the Harpies owners themselves elected. That Harry went out of his way, cutting through red tape and disregarding Ministry rules, just to ensure the privacy of the meeting, impressed the owners more and they agreed to Harry’s request and settled on the Harpies head office itself for everyone’s convenience (read: the Harpies’ convenience). By lunch time, the owls delivering the witness summons were on their way.
Harry had scheduled the interrogations so that Ginny would have plenty enough time to travel from Devon and arrived at the Harpies’ office in Wales and be interviewed at the time of the day most convenient for her. Thus, everything was going well except for a minor irritant. Liede had unfortunately assigned a secretary to record the minutes of the investigation who had the distracting habit of lip-reading the minutes as the Dicta-Quill wrote the words. It reminded Harry a lot of a video clip of a game-show host who, just as he was reading his spiel from a teleprompter, one of the female contestants behind him was also mouthing the words of the same script. Little did Harry know that he would need that kind of harmless distraction by the time it came to interview the third witness of the day, the Harpies’ blond Beater Glennis.
If Harry hadn’t seen her play, one of the most powerful Beaters in the League, Harry would have a hard time imagining her as a professional Quidditch player. For, hard as she played inside the Quidditch field, she played harder outside of it. A part of him was not surprised at her behavior; after all, she had to live with a name like that. Glennis, the Beater. Harry need not remind himself of what the press had made of that. He had already anticipated that he was going to have problems with her in this interview – her reputation simply preceded her like a huge lumbering beast. But Harry needed Glennis’s testimony because she was the only witness within Ginny’s circle of friends who had also attended the Wigtown Wanderers’ harvest/sex party last December. He wanted to find out if there was a link - no matter how tenuous – between the two incidents. Had he a choice he would have avoided interviewing Glennis entirely. Her brand of sexuality was simply too aggressive for his own taste.
For one thing, she was dressed rather inappropriately for the interview with her low-cut shirt, even if she wore a jacket on top of it. All throughout the interview she tried to draw Harry’s eyes to her Bristols, tightly squeezing them together and leaning forward to give Harry a good view. Already, Harry had to put up a barrier under the desk to stop further her bare feet from wandering up his legs. It did not help either that the ears of the Auror Ray, whom he had posted by the door, kept twitching at Harry’s obvious discomfort.
“So how were you given the Potions?” Harry asked, keeping his eyes on the sheaf of parchments that lay on his crossed legs.
“They made us all line up for the drinks. And you can choose whatever drink you like and I did. Sex of the Witch, you know, like the Muggles’ Sex on the Beach, except it’s got a drop of Re’em blood in it. Gives you more stamina,” Glennis said, eyeing Harry meaningfully and dropping her gaze to her chest.
But Harry pretended he did not notice. “Did they tell you that you were drinking spiked drinks?” he asked instead.
“Of course,” Glennis responded. “They called everyone to the dance floor first and announced it to the room. Who wants Potion X?! Of course I want a hit. I knew about it, of course.”
Harry thought it would be rude to answer ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t you?’ out loud, so he kept that thought in his head.
“But do you remember who in particular handed you the drinks?”
“Oh, it’s that bloke, Parkin, their Keeper. But it was one of their Chasers, Cundick, who called people forward. I remember, ‘coz later I asked him if he ever thought of changing his surname and he just laughed and said ‘You’re a fine one to talk!’ Actually, most of the team was there at the center of the bar, you know when they asked everyone to step up and take a shot. Most everyone took a glass, just a shot,” Glennis went on, twirling her hair. She was obviously swinging her legs underneath the table because her entire body was jiggling with the movement. “And boy, did I remember everything that happened that night,” she continued. “And I guess I don’t blame anyone who’d taken Potion X before and tried it again, coz I’m telling you, it’s really quite something.” She leaned forward as if to emphasize her point, her jugs spread out on the glass table in front of her. “Makes you feel everything everywhere in your body.”
She paused and leaned back in her chair, taking on a pensive look. She stared at Harry who glanced up at her but just as quickly turned back to his pretense of studying his files.
“You know, we can both watch it at the same time - you know, my memories of the Wigtown party. I guess it would be like watching Muggle porn, you know? My mum’s family’s big on reunions and we used to attend them a lot when my grandparents were still alive. My Muggle cousins and I used to watch a lot of Muggle porn when the adults were not looking.” She shrugged. “If we view my memories of that night, maybe it would be like that, you know, watching VHS.”
From his peripheral vision, Harry could see that the department secretary had stopped following the minutes of the interrogation and was now frankly staring at Glennis, her mouth open. Harry would have been amused at the expression on her face, except he himself had just about reached the end of his tether.
“No, I wouldn’t know. And Muggles have DVDs now.” Harry added, just so he could say something, still keeping his eyes on his files though he hadn’t written anything down except the names she had given.
“DVDs? Is that like STDs? ‘Coz I know STD.”
Harry needed a few moments before he could answer. “No.”
“Oh. I thought perhaps, maybe, it stands for Dangerous Venereal Diseases or something.”
Mercifully, oh most blessedly, there was a knock on the door and Ray’s head disappeared for a moment as he leaned outside to talk to whoever was at the door. After a few minutes, Ray closed the door and walked up to Harry. He leaned in Harry’s ear and whispered, “Weasley’s sister has just arrived.”
Harry nodded. He straightened his back and shuffled the papers against the table so that the edges lined up, an outward sign that the interview was over.
“Well, if you remember anything more of what happened that night, please don’t hesitate to inform us.” Harry said to Glennis.
“Oh, is it over?” she blinked as if she was just roused from sleep then recovered herself. “Well, if you need me again, you can always do me. I mean, we can always do this again,” she said, gesturing at the table with her index finger. But Harry doubted it would ever be likely, vowing that if he ever needed to interview her again, he would assign a female Auror to her case - not that it would make any difference to Glennis.
Harry then stood up, and Glennis reluctantly followed suit, disappointed that Harry did not swallow the bait.
“Thanks for your time. I really appreciate it,” Harry said, though he was not stupid enough to extend his hand out to shake her hand. Harry turned his head towards Ray, who still had a hard time hiding his amusement, and signaled for him to escort Glennis out.
Harry wearily sat down and removed all the papers from the table except for Ginny’s records. He knew every detail of her memory, of course, and though they were taken unofficially, it was voluntary given and therefore admissible in court - if the case ever reached the Tribunal. So this meeting was a mere redundancy. But Harry wasn’t going to pass up the chance to talk to her. The last couple of days, he had rather been expecting an invite to dinner at the Burrow. He would have asked, but he did not want to make any impositions. But when Ron told him that their mum was taking a much needed break, Harry threw every bit of energy working on the case instead.
As soon as he heard voices just outside the door, Harry stood up and waited patiently for Ginny to enter the room. The secretary, who had been putting fresh parchments on her desk to take in Ginny’s testimony, noticed Harry and frowned her confusion. She had never seen him act so formally before a witness, standing impressively tall and handsome in his Auror robes. But Harry’s face remained as enigmatic as ever - what Muggles referred to as a poking face, whatever that meant.
But the moment Ginny entered the room, Harry‘s jaw line hardened. The Muggle shades Ginny was wearing failed to mask the bruise underneath her eyes and he was assailed so strongly with the feeling of grief and guilt. For he knew that the superficial bruise was only an indication of the life threatening condition she had suffered from. And he wasn’t there to offer her comfort at the very least.
Ray led Ginny towards the witness table, pulling out the chair for her. Ginny smiled her thanks to Ray and Harry couldn’t help the pang of jealousy he felt. Ginny had never lifted her face once to him since she entered the room.
“Hello, Gin,” Harry said, the familiarity deliberate.
Ginny nodded noncommittally to the table and gathered her robes tighter around her, fidgeting as she clutched at what Harry guessed was the Menat necklace underneath.
Harry waited for Ginny to look up, to at least show some sign of friendship or recognition but she stubbornly kept her head down. He stared at her for quite a while but in the end, he knew that, powerful as he was, he could never win over her.
Ginny, meanwhile, was resolutely keeping her eyes down. On their way to the castle, she suddenly realized, Harry’s a Legilimens. Her face she could keep impassive for any length of time. As a child, she learned to out-act the twins quickly enough (and to extract a few treats from her mum and dad besides). But she had yet to learn how to close her mind from Legilimens. And she knew that during interrogations, Harry would often turn to this skill to cut through the BS the suspects often gave him. Ron said so, anyway. So keen, so urgent was her needful thoughts of Harry that she was sure that he would easily read those in her mind.
She heard him sigh and moved to take his seat in front of her and then he began to speak….
“Nice necklace,” she heard him say as he leaned back in his seat and looked down as if to read his files, tapping his quill against his thigh. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it…quite like it.”
And Ginny’s dander was up. She knew he couldn’t see any part of the necklace underneath her clothes. What the hell was he playing at now? Was he throwing to her face the last time they saw each other, when he left her in a blind? He ought to thank his lucky stars that she hadn’t got very long legs. Otherwise, she would kick his bollocks off right from underneath the table.
Harry, still staring down his parchments, did not see that Ginny had pulled her shoulders back, her jaw jutting out, her eyes narrowing underneath the shades that did not completely hid her eyes. The twins would have known to immediately run for cover, but Harry was completely oblivious and continued to speak.
“Reminds me of a flower I once saw at a friend’s garden; smells a lot like jasmine, I think,” Harry went on, remembering Ginny’s hair scent that day at the Burrow. Ginny’s anger disappeared as quickly as it rose. Her heart pounding in her chest, she absent-mindedly placed a hand in her hair. “I’ve always liked that flower. It took me sometime before I realized how amazing it is, but ever since, I’ve always liked it.” He looked up to glance at Ginny, then back down to his files again. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life.”
From his peripheral vision, Harry noted that the secretary had stopped her lip-reading of the words as they appeared on her parchment. Harry could almost hear the words in her head: Harry Potter, talking about flowers, but he was past caring now. Who knew if Ginny would ever give him a chance to speak to her again?
The secretary looked uncertainly at Harry, then at the Auror by the door, who remained unflurried. Ray had worked long enough with Harry to know that Harry would never do or say anything that in the long run would turn out to be quite unnecessary. Harry always had a plan, even if Ray did not always understand it. Ray remembered all too well how, in the last war, Harry and his friends broke into Gringotts Bank and what could be dafter than that? And yet it turned out to be crucial in the fight against You-Know-Who. Harry could ask whatever questions he liked; Ray knew in the end Harry would crack the case. Besides, this was Weasley’s sister who was known for having a bit of a temper. If she decided she didn’t like Harry’s line of questioning, she was likely to blast him to kingdom come without so much as a by-your-leave.
And so Harry continued to speak into the silent room.
“Unfortunately, at that time, there was this bully - nothing more than a thief, really - who seemed to have it in for me, and I couldn’t very well let him know that I’m particularly interested in this one.”
What the hell is Potter saying now? That he‘s always liked me? Ginny was fuming once again. All those years that she had been suffering, and he fancied her? Ginny could just feel the smoke coming out of her ears now. What about all those Muggle women she knew he slept with?!
“It’s just one flower, why would you be interested in it? I’m sure you can get any you like, you can even buy one if you want to,” she said, her voice bristling with sarcasm.
“It’s not a flower I can just easily buy. And I don’t think it’s for sale, either. Still, I wanted it. I was never an avaricious man, but it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted for myself.”
“If you want it so much, then why did you leave it?” Ginny said, not caring if the other Ministry employees would begin to cotton on to what she and Harry were talking about.
“I thought that it already belonged to someone else.”
“And why would you think that?!” Ginny’s eyebrows were raised halfway up her forehead now.
Harry stared steadily at Ginny for quite a long time that she thought he would not answer.
“One morning, I came over to the place - it was the first time I’ve ever really gotten that close to it – and well, it looked as if someone has already watered it.”
“What?” Ginny was really lost now.
“Sometimes, you can see it, on its petals, like morning dew, except it’s not.”
It took Ginny sometime before she could work out what Harry was talking about. But one couldn’t really live with her teammates and not know a few things about sex. Was he talking about sexual afterglow? Didn’t Leslie say she use it as a beauty enhancer the same way she used make-up? Ginny didn’t know whether to believe in it or not.
But did Harry really see that on her face? She reddened and touched her face. Perhaps he did. After all, it was the night she became pregnant. No wonder the git ran off on her. This was her brother’s best friend after all. She remembered too clearly how her own brother Ron turned against Hermione at the news that Hermione snogged Victor Krum, and that was based on second-hand information. And Harry had to see the evidence on her face. But it was not as if she knew. She hadn’t done anything wrong. Even if she did have sex that night, it was not as if she didn’t know about Harry’s numerous affairs with Muggle women. What a hypocrite! Ginny wanted nothing more than to throw her shoes at him.
“That is no excuse for you to leave, seeing as how you yourself frequently water other people’s gardens!”
“Believe me, Ginny, there is nothing I regret more. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive myself.”
“But why should it matter to you? I’ve seen your garden. Seems to me you already have plenty enough flowers for your enjoyment. Aren’t you quite the avid gardener yourself?” Ginny said archly.
“I don’t care about any of them. I never have. I only wanted this one,” Harry said. So intense was Harry’s gaze that it burned right through to Ginny’s soul. But Ginny held her ground, her indignation, the double standard of it all, fuelling her anger.
“The flower you’re talking about? But you yourself said that someone else has already been to water it. It’s already despoiled, you might say,” she said pulling back and crossing her arms across her chest.
“I don’t care. It’s not important to me,” Harry’s voice was steady and earnest.
“You still want it even though other gardeners have already been through it?” Ginny said, her voice rising in disbelief.
“It’s still the same flower,” Harry insisted. He paused, then said, looking Ginny straight in the eye, “If I am allowed, if ever I’m lucky enough, I would like to bring the flower home with me and take care of it for the rest of my life. In fact, I wanted it so much that it was the last thing I thought of in the forest that day in Hogwarts.”
The secretary and the Auror glanced at Harry. They had never known him to speak of the events in the last war, though they’d already heard plenty from the trials of the Death Eaters and the testimony of Harry’s friend, Hagrid. But Harry himself had never spoken about it.
Ginny herself was speechless. She looked down her lap in confusion, her eyes starting to sting. Did Harry just say what she thought he said? All those years, all this time, Harry had been in love with her? She wept for all the wasted time, when she could have had him in her life. All those nights, alone in her bed, when all she could think of was him, wishing she could love him.
“Are you alright Ginny?” Harry said, speaking with a tenderness no one had ever heard before, except for Ginny. Ginny could only nod. Then she felt something in the palm of her right hand. She opened her hand and found a miniature pink bourbon rose in it. She clasped her hand over the rose quickly, afraid the others in the room might see.
She wasn’t sure how she felt anymore. Harry had dropped several bombshells on her. On the one hand, she felt happy, elated, that it was her Harry had been in love with all along. But at the same time, she wasn’t sure if she could forgive him for walking out on her for what to her was an inexcusable reason, left her when she needed him the most. It was a side to him that she hadn’t known, she wasn’t expecting. Did she really want this Harry? A clay-footed Harry? But then again, what man is perfect? When it came to men, You take the good with the bad, her mum always said.
And Sylvie too had a lot to say about the subject of men. Things like, “A man using you doesn’t mean he loves you.” or “A man is most jealous when he feels his hold on a woman’s affections is tenuous.” Ginny had heard horror stories of how irrational men could be when they become jealous. And the part of her who knew nothing but to love Harry was already starting to make excuses for him. ‘His instinct was to run away, Ginny, to protect himself from hurt and not to hurt and punish you.’
And she simply could not forget what he revealed about the last Battle, that when he thought he was dying, she was the last thing on his mind. She looked up to him but knew she wasn’t going to get anything from his facial expression, with other people in the room. She looked down at her hands once again, feeling completely overwhelmed. She needed time to think.
“I want to go home,” Ginny said at last, her voice sounding weak even to her own ears.
Harry stared at Ginny for a long time then his eyes settled on her right hand still clutched tightly round her robes and where he had placed the bourbon rose. She had not let go of the rose. He would know the moment she did. It would return to him.
Harry stood up and walked around the desk, his eyes never leaving Ginny for one moment. But Ginny seemed determined to burn a hole through the floor and refused to look up. He assisted Ginny in getting out of the chair, but kept his hand away from her skin.
“Thank you,” murmured Ginny to the room, addressing her brother’s Ron’s colleagues.
Ray opened the door. The room where the interrogation was being held was at the end of a long corridor, with doors on either side. At the other end of the corridor was a wide open space which served as an inner parlour, and led to the wide curved staircase to the first floor. Off to the right was the lift that led to hidden floors below.
Mrs. Weasley, who had been standing anxiously at the end of the corridor, immediately ran up to Harry and Ginny the moment they appeared in the doorway. She went straight to Ginny and became worried as soon as she saw Ginny’s face.
“What happened? Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley was puzzled. She expected Harry to be gentle with her daughter. She turned to him, ready to peck at him like an angry bird. “You haven’t been too hard on her, Harry, have you?”
“Mum, it’s okay,” Ginny said, anxious that her mum should not make a scene. “I was just feeling tired.”
“Should we head straight to St. Mungo’s?” she peered again fretfully at Ginny’s face.
“No, mum. I feel fine, I just want to go home.”
But Harry was loath to let Ginny leave so soon. And though on this side, he could not see much the bruise on her face, he was aching to do something about it.
“Uhm, you know,” Harry said, addressing Mrs. Weasley knowing that Ginny would refuse, “I think I may be able to do something about Ginny’s bruise.”
“Oh, I don’t know, Harry. Her blood vessels are very fragile. In fact the Healers have been afraid that Ginny would lose her eyesight if it weren’t for the - ” She caught herself just in time.
“I promise I won’t hurt her….mum.”
Despite herself, Ginny’s head whipped up. That was a low blow coming from Harry. It was downright cheating. He knew that her mum would give anything to have the right to call Harry her son. She could just see her mum about to blubber. She narrowed her eyes, feeling strongly the urge to kick Harry’s shins - or knee his groin - Ginny wasn’t very particular.
Mrs. Weasley stood staring back at Harry. It was the first time Harry had called her Mum. For one whole minute she forgot about her daughter and hugged Harry. Her back was to Ginny and suddenly it seemed it was just Ginny and Harry in the room. Harry was looking down at her, and Ginny couldn’t help but look up back to him, locked in his penetrating gaze. Thankfully, her mum pulled from the hug and looked up at Harry.
“Well, if you’re sure, Harry. I trust you.”
And suddenly Ginny found herself standing too close to Harry. She knew he hadn’t stopped staring at her but she refused to meet his gaze. He tentatively touched her chin and lifted her face up. Then he removed the shades from her face and handed it to her mum. Gently, Harry rubbed the pad of his left thumb on the area around her eyes. Ginny hardly felt the magic, except for a slight warmth around her eyes. But it didn’t mean that she wasn’t feeling anything. Because her entire body had started to tingle the first moment Harry touched her skin.
But she kept her eyes determinedly focused on the floor, or she would if Harry had not lifted her chin up so high that she could not see clearly below his chest. His neck, then. The top button of his shirt was open and she could clearly see his neck. She didn’t notice it before because she could hardly look at Harry’s face. And now she could see the bruise on his neck, like a necklace, darker on the sides and on the hollow just underneath his Adam’s apple. She wondered what had happened. What could come so close to Harry that could inflict such damage. And her irritation disappeared with the knowledge that Harry was always involved in some dangerous, life-threatening assignment, that it was not only her life that had been on the line but his as well, that in the last three months, she could have easily lost him too.
She was about to lift her eyes up to him, certain now of what to do. But then, her eyes strayed towards his Adam’s apple and a very strong image of her licking it flashed in her mind. They looked naked, with Ginny half-lying over Harry, her wet tongue on his skin. As soon as the image formed in her mind’s eyes, Ginny wanted nothing more than to perform the very act.
Her face was burning now. Ginny had never known such wanton need before. She now truly understood what it felt like to truly need a man. And now more than ever, she kept her eyes away from Harry. He was sure to see the image in her mind.
Perhaps it was just the pregnancy hormones that were making her so horny. She wasn’t completely unaware of it. The one thing they discovered about veela women was how extremely horny they got when they’re pregnant. Randy didn’t even cover the word. George had quipped if he only knew how part-Veelas acted when pregnant then he would have married one of Fleur’s cousins, which of course drew a wallop in his head not only from his wife but from Mrs. Weasley and Ginny as well. Unfortunately, both Ron and Hermione seemed to take it as a direct challenge, a game of one-upmanship, and soon enough the family would be subjected to colorful reports of the two’s shenanigans.
Ginny started to fidget, clutching the rose so tightly she hoped she didn’t crush it. But she must strive to keep her hands away from Harry at all costs.
At last, he was finished. Ginny did not dare look up at him, afraid of what she might do. Not in this place full of people, her friends and colleagues, and her parents.
Then, from her sex-addled haze, she heard distantly a door opening.
“Potter, a word?” She heard a male voice calling.
Harry turned towards the man who spoke then turned back towards them.
“Would you please wait for me? I won’t be long.” Harry glanced at Ginny who was still looking determinedly down on the floor. Harry would have despaired if he hadn’t known that she was still holding the bourbon rose in her hand.
“It’s okay, Harry. We understand, you have work to do,” Mrs. Weasley spoke uncertainly.
“No, mum, please wait for me.”
By this time the other Auror had taken a few steps towards them and had heard Harry’s last words. He stared at Mrs. Weasley as if he were seeing her in a new light. He waited until Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had walked out of earshot before he turned and spoke to Harry again.
“Potter, what the hell is this?” he whispered, gesturing at the parchment in his hands. Harry knew it was a copy of his interview with Ginny. “Flowers? How are we supposed to get anything from this?”
“It’s okay. I already got what I wanted,” Harry said calmly. He had never once removed his eyes from Ginny.
“Look, Potter, I know the Weasleys are like family to you, but you can’t pussyfoot round Ron’s sister just so you can spare her the ugly side of this business. If anything, worse is going to come. When we find a suspect, she may have to testify.” Gibbons was still not aware of Ginny’s condition.
Harry turned his face to his colleague then, who looked seriously worried. Not having Ron to work with on this case to bounce ideas against and not needing Yes-men around him, Harry requested this Senior Auror to help him out on the case. Unfortunately, Gibbons had a tendency to think the worst of things, having witnessed many of his colleagues die in the last war and Harry often found himself needing to reassure the elder man often.
“Relax, Gibbons,” Harry said, clapping Gibbons on the arm. “I know what I’m doing. I already have her memory of the party, remember? This is just a formality, just to show that we did not give special treatments to anyone. If there’s any problem, I’ll stand by it. Tell you what, why don’t you follow up on the memories of the other guests at the party, and we’ll see what we can get from them.”
Gibbons still looked unconvinced but Harry had already started walking down the corridor to the parlour area.
“You know Potter, I used to envy you your power,” Gibbons said, speaking louder as Harry walked further. “But now I’m beginning to think that all those powerful wizards like Grindelwald, and You-Know-Who, and even your mentor Dumbledore – they’ve all had a reputation for being a bit touched in the head.” Harry only grinned back at him. “I wonder if you’ll soon follow!” he shouted to Harry’s now retreating back. Harry only waved back a hand cheerfully.
Harry walked directly to where Ginny and Mrs. Weasley now stood by the lift, hardly sparing a glance to the other Harpies players seated on the large sofa still waiting for their turn to be interviewed. The Harpies’ team manager and another player, whom Harry recognized as Leslie Winters, had now joined Ginny and her mum. Leslie was holding tightly both of Ginny’s hands.
As soon as he drew near the Weasleys, Harry spoke directly to Ginny. “Everything ok?” But Ginny was apparently still speaking to Leslie and it was to her that Ginny answered.
“It’s okay, Leslie. I’m fine.”
“I tried to send you a box of Muggle chocolates, you know, the ones you like.”
A small smile played on Ginny’s lips. “Yes, I got them. And thank you. Did you get into much trouble for trying to send me those?” Leslie, Glennis, and another reserve player were on 24-hour supervision - virtually under house arrest –their wands taken away to prevent them from hooking up with anybody and getting themselves pregnant until the effects of Potion X had worn off their bodies. Management didn’t trust them to cope on their own.
Leslie shook her head, looking a bit sheepish. She and Ginny exchanged knowing glances. Management had even threatened Glennis to forcibly wear a chastity belt.
Just then the lift doors opened, revealing Mr. Weasley. He saw Harry first and smiled.
“Hey, Dad,” said Harry.
Mr. Weasley stood stock still for a moment then looked uncertainly at his wife but Mrs. Weasley’s beaming face was all the reassurance he needed. “Hey, son,” he replied, a certain relish in his voice upon uttering a word. “We’re ready to go,” he said, smiling too.
Mrs. Weasley turned to her daughter but Leslie still seemed reluctant to let go of Ginny’s hands.
“Uhm, Leslie?” Mrs. Weasley said. “We need to be going.”
Leslie looked around at them, then back to Ginny’s face. She refused to let go of Ginny’s hands. Harry didn’t need his Legilimency skills to know why. It was all there in Leslie’s face, in her eyes: she didn’t think Ginny would survive her pregnancy. She thought that this would be the last time she would see Ginny alive – or even awake. Leslie must have heard about Sylvie and the pregnant Harpies patient who had died despite being under the watchful care of St. Mungo’s. She didn’t know about the Menat necklace, didn’t know that Ginny was protected. And Harry had seen more of the world in the last three months, learned more about magic, and other magical practices, so many resources untapped that he was sure to find some other way to save Ginny. She now had plenty of options. She would live. He would make certain of that.
He spoke to Leslie. “Leslie, Ginny’s going to be fine. Nothing’s going to happen to her. I assure you,” Harry said earnestly.
Leslie spared Harry a glance but it was as if she didn’t even see him. She obviously did not believe him.
The team manager who stood a few feet away piped in as well. “Leslie,” the team manager said gently, “you’ll be up next.”
“She’ll be fine, Leslie,” Harry said. “I won’t let anything happen to Ginny. I promise.” There was something in the tone of Harry’s voice that made Leslie fully turn her head towards him. Perhaps it was the way he said Ginny’s name. She looked into Harry’s eyes as if searching for something. Harry stared steadily back at her. She must have been reassured somewhat because she nodded. She turned to Ginny.
“Write to me soon,” she said and kissed Ginny gently on the cheek.
“Bye, Ginny.” The team manager said and smiled at the rest of them.
Harry accompanied them all the way to the castle’s front entrance where the Weasley’s Ford was already waiting in the driveway. Harry wanted to accompany them all the way home to the Burrow. But there was still a list of Harpies players he had to personally question.
Harry kept close to Ginny’s side all this time and tried to engage her in conversation. But Ginny was stubbornly refusing to lift her head. Harry desperately wanted to sneak in a word to her, only her, to ask if they could talk. But every time he opened his mouth to ask a question, either Mrs. Weasley or Mr. Weasley would answer him and so Harry kept his conversations casual.
Soon they were outside, standing before the Ford under the porte-cochere. It was Mr. Weasley who turned to Harry first, offering his hand to shake. Then Mrs. Weasley in turn hugged him.
“You’ll join us for dinner this Sunday, Harry?” she said, smiling up at him.
“I’ll be there, mum.”
Then the two elder Weasleys turned to Ginny. Mrs. Weasley knew how Ginny truly felt about Harry and Mr. Weasley had long ago suspected it. They were rather afraid Harry might mistake Ginny’s reticence as rudeness.
“Ginny?” Mrs. Weasley prompted her daughter as if Ginny were a child being taught basic manners.
“Bye, Harry. Thanks,” Ginny mumbled to her fist that was clutching the Bourbon rose. Then she looked up and she and Harry exchanged a fleeting look. It was the most Ginny could do with both her parents’ eyes upon her.
“I’ll see you soon, Ginny,” Harry said softly, his voice a caress, but perhaps only to her ears.
Then all of a sudden both her parents were herding her into the car like some invalid. Ginny was slightly disappointed, but then Harry’s hands anywhere on her body right now would not be a good idea. Then Mr. and Mrs. Weasley themselves got into the car. Mr. Weasley revved up the engine then eased the car gently out of the driveway, with Harry following slowly behind the car. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley turned back and waved goodbye to Harry but Harry could not see Ginny’s face in the backseat. He remained standing there as he watched the car started its drive down the lane that led out of the castle grounds.
The car had moved several meters when Ginny turned her head around and saw Harry still standing, watching the car, watching her. Harry kept her eyes on her as she sat there, looking back at him until the car turned a corner and out of his sight.
Throughout the long drive back to Devon, Ginny had remained quiet, staring down at the Bourbon rose in the palm of her hand. She was relieved to find that she hadn’t done any damage gripping it so tightly.
As soon as they reached home, Ginny headed directly to her room and sat down at her desk. She opened her hand. The bourbon rose was still as fresh as if it had just been plucked. And then slowly the flower shimmered and the petals began to unfold one by one until, fully extended, it turned into a letter, with Harry’s handwriting on it. She read the letter. And re-read it over and over again until she could not see anymore, her eyes blurry with tears. She no longer needed to despair, to hope, to wonder. And despite the tears, she was giddy with the certainty that in Harry she had found herself a man who would never let her go.
And she would not play mind games with him, she decided, to not play coy, not punish him for acting so stupidly. After all, she had six – five – brothers. Life was simply too short to run away from love. And the loss of her uncles, her friends, and her brother had taught her to simply cherish love in places where she found it. And in Harry she had all the happiness she had ever hoped for in her life.
She looked down once again at the letter in her hand and read anew.
Dear Ginny,
In case I never get the chance to talk to you again - if you would even let me - I just want to make it clear: I meant every word I said. There hasn’t been anyone else nor will there ever be. It has always been you.
There is nothing in the world I wouldn’t give to come home to you, Ginny, everyday, for the rest of my life. If you want me, I’m always yours.
Love, Always
Harry
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