He could tell from her blush that she knew too, but she took a note from the tortoise-shell box
and read it, then stuffed it into her pocket. She closed the box with the barrette and looked up
at them all.
"Well! Thank you again, everyone. This was really lovely," and she rose to go. Hagrid patted
her shoulder; since it was Hagrid, this was the same as shoving her back into her seat rather
violently, although they were all used to Hagrid not knowing his own strength and she merely
winced.
"Ye can’ go yet! There’s cake still!"
Uh-oh, thought Harry. He hoped Hermione didn’t let Hagrid bake the cake. But she was
emerging from the hut now, carrying a chocolate confection that looked more likely to be a
product of the house elves in the kitchens. Hagrid had made tea, which was fine--he couldn’t
botch that. But the moment that Neville took a sip of tea, he sprouted a duck bill and white
feathers and started quacking excitedly; apparently the chocolates were designed to be
triggered by tea.
Fred and George were laughing fit to kill, and Ginny was trying to say, "Gred, Forge--I mean,
Fred, George--" but she was laughing too hysterically to be coherent, and even Neville seemed
to be enjoying himself until he molted and the duck bill suddenly dropped off into his cake.
"They’re called Ducky Dreams," George told them all.
"No, they’re not, they’re called Drake Dreams," Fred insisted. Hermione frowned.
"That rhymes with Canary Creams. Is your whole product line going to rhyme?" she asked
them. They looked somewhat abashed as they admitted that this was in fact their plan.
"What’s next?" Ron wanted to know. "There aren’t that many words that rhyme with ‘cream.’
There’s only beam and ream and--" he faltered.
"Team," Angelina said laughing.
"Gleam!" Katie said triumphantly. They were all laughing hysterically, suggesting ways that Fred
and George could create ridiculous confections with these words in the names, and what they
might do to those who dared to eat them.
After they calmed down again, they were actually able to eat the birthday cake and have some
tea, many of them taking seconds on the cake, which was chocolate with raspberry filling.
They’d probably all ruined their dinners.
Harry was sitting with Hermione and the other fourth-year girls, whom he did not know very
well. He got the impression that when they were in the common room, they were avoiding him.
He was finding it hard to talk to Annika Olafsdottir now.
"Can you pass the cream, Annika?" he asked her.
She swallowed, handing him the small chipped jug. After he’d poured it into his tea, he tried to
hand it back to her, but she wouldn’t take it, so he tried handing it to Ruth Pelta instead. She
took it cautiously.
"It’s okay," he told them. "I don’t bite. Not usually." He smiled at them. Annika laughed now,
coloring.
"I’m--I’m sorry. It’s just that I still can’t get over you being you. I’ve been in Gryffindor for
almost four years, and I’m still unable to say anything coherent to Harry Potter..."
Ruth rolled her eyes. "Annika, he does not want to feel like he’s on display all the time. He
probably just wants to be left alone."
Harry looked at Ruth; she was a brown-haired girl with hazel eyes and a slightly olive
complexion.
"Is that why you never talk to me?" he asked her.
She raised her eyebrows. "I just thought you’d think it rude, someone who didn’t know you just
walking up to you as if just because you’re famous and everyone knows who you are, you want
to know everyone else. I didn’t want to be presumptuous."
Harry nodded at Ruth. "Thank you. But you have no idea the level of presumptuousness that’s
been reached around here..." he smiled, remembering all of the girls who asked him to the
ceilidh. Ruth didn’t look away from him; she was a very direct person.
"Well, I should go soon so I can study a little before dinner. My mum sent me another Hebrew
lesson by owl post; hopefully I can finally have my bat mitzvah this summer..."
Hermione looked at her. "Seriously?"
She sighed. "I’m two years behind because ever since I came to Hogwarts, I’ve been doing it
by correspondence. My mum and dad are both rabbis. They weren’t even sure they were going
to let me come to Hogwarts when I got the letter. But my mum decided to be very philosophical
about it, finally. Said that I had a gift; it would be rude to throw it back in God’s face. The
important thing is what you do with your gifts. And now, I’m the only one in Ancient Runes who
can make head or tail of the Hebrew and Aramaic spells, so I’m one up on everyone else."
Hermione looked envious.
Then Harry was startled by Sandy hissing at him; he listened, thinking, Not again....No one but
Hermione seemed to have noticed Sandy’s hissing; he thought she might be paying special
attention, listening for the sound, now that she knew about Sandy’s Sight. She raised her
eyebrows at him, but he shook his head; it wasn’t a good time to say anything. Not that he
wanted to tell her about this, anyway.
"I can’t even make out the Icelandic runes, and my dad’s from there," Annika said dejectedly.
"I think that’s psychological," Ruth told her, sounding like Hermione to Harry. "You don’t get on
with your dad, so you don’t want anything to do with his heritage."
"Well how would you feel if your dad had saddled you with a last name like ‘Olafsdottir?’"
Hermione smiled; Harry had heard her go on about her first name enough times. Ruth rose to
go, and Annika and Zoey went with her. They all wished Ginny a happy birthday again before
going up to the castle together, walking closely together. Annika shyly waved at Harry before
leaving. He thought they made a rather tight little group; hard for Ginny to really penetrate. But
then, he realized, she was used to boys. With six brothers, she’d never really learned how to get
on with girls. And in her first year, she’d been rather isolated as well. She had spent her time
confiding in Tom Riddle, in the diary, not bonding with her roommates. She was still not really
integrated into their world; Harry remembered the many times he’d seen small knots of friends
scattered around the common room, chatting happily, and Ginny, alone in a corner with a book.
That’s probably why she’s at the top of her classes, he thought. No social life to distract her.
That’s probably also why she and Malfoy get on, he realized. Two isolated, lonely people...
Harry finished his cake and looked up to see Ginny furtively edging her way toward Hagrid’s
hut. The rest of the people at the table were chatting animatedly and eating cake and drinking
tea and making up silly names for Fred’s and George’s product line; no one but Harry noticed
that the birthday girl was slipping away. Of course, he knew to expect it, thanks to Sandy.
After she’d been gone for several minutes, Harry also slowly rose and edged toward the door
of the hut. Hermione was talking to Neville now about what it had felt like to change into the
duck. Harry thought it was possible that Parvati saw him, but he blinked and it seemed she was
once more laughing at something Fred was saying, while Ron draped his arm over the back of
her chair. While Neville was talking to her, Hermione was looking at Parvati strangely; it wasn’t
hostile, Harry thought, but...at least she’s not taking any notice of what I’m doing, he thought.
He slipped into Hagrid’s hut.
He looked around the strangely empty room; without the large table in it, it actually seemed
quite commodious. Then he heard voices, and he moved carefully across the room to the back
wall. One of the windows flanking the back door was open a crack, although the rough, dirty
curtains still hung in front of the glass. Harry recognized the voices; he lifted the edge of the
curtain to peer through the dirty glass and saw exactly what he expected to: Ginny was behind
Hagrid’s hut with Draco Malfoy. A ram and a dragon.He hadn’t had to guess what Sandy had
meant this time.
Their arms were around each other and Ginny was smiling at him. "That was the non-verbal
thank you," she said. Harry grimaced; that must have been a kiss. He wasn’t sorry to have
missed that. In retrospect, he’d probably rather see his mum kiss Snape. "Now the verbal thank
you: it is beautiful and wonderful and thank you."
Malfoy looked more consumed by her every time Harry saw them together. His grey eyes
seemed to be constantly moving over her, devouring her with his mind, as though he were
memorizing every freckle, every small line, every eyelash and even the half-moons on her
fingernails. He leaned down again and pressed his lips to hers, finding her ready and responsive,
drinking him in, sliding her fingers into his wispy hair. Harry looked away, then back. What was
Malfoy doing with his hands? Harry felt a rage wash over him as Malfoy raised his left hand and
placed it purposefully over her right breast, just placed it there, not moving. Not missing a beat,
Ginny simply moved her hand from his head to his left hand, and removed it from her breast,
placing it back around her waist, never breaking the kiss while doing this. But Malfoy would not
be deterred; instead of her chest, he now moved the same hand down below her waist, cupping
her bottom in his palm, continuing to kiss her. Again, she reached for his wrist and this time
pulled the hand up to have it in a more neutral location.
He broke the kiss and pressed his mouth to her neck as she tipped her head back so he could
get more of it. Harry felt his pulse racing. Malfoy was moving further down, and now had begun
to unbutton her robes, which fell to the ground. His fingers plucked at the buttons on her blouse.
She suddenly came to her senses and pushed him away, turning toward the hut to button her
blouse again; Harry had a glimpse of a simple white bra with a small fabric rosebud nestled in
the valley between the cups. But it was only a glimpse; he ducked down below the windowsill
instinctively when she turned.
He heard her talking to Malfoy, so he inched back up to the window, lifting the curtain again.
"Draco; we’ve talked about the hands..."
Malfoy took her in his arms again, not saying anything in response to her complaint. He moved
his mouth down her throat again and she made a gurgling noise, grabbing at his shoulders as
though she would have collapsed otherwise. He succeeded in undoing one of her blouse buttons
again, moving his mouth lower, and now one of her hands was sliding down his chest, coming to
rest on his waist.
Harry reached for his wand, feeling his knuckles strain on it as he gripped the wood fiercely. If
Malfoy did anything that she didn’t want and she couldn’t hold him off, Harry wanted to be
ready. He knew he shouldn’t be watching this, but at the same time he felt that he must, he
couldn’t risk her being in danger.
Malfoy had undone the buttons on his own robes and they slipped to the ground. He moved his
mouth up to her throat again, then his mouth was on hers once more, and as the kiss continued
the hand she had at his waist of his pants slid down his side, and she was running her fingers
along the side of his thigh, down to the knee, then back up, past his hip to his waist, then back
down again.
Harry felt like he couldn’t breathe. He could see how twitchy her hand was making Malfoy. He
had his mouth on her throat again, concentrating on one spot, while she kept stroking his leg and
driving him--and Harry--mad.
This had been continuing for several minutes when Malfoy pulled his mouth away from her
throat; there was a bruised patch of skin where his mouth had been, and it was unfortunately
shaped exactly like a mouth. He was unbuttoning her blouse yet again, putting his hands inside it,
moving his mouth down...
Harry looked down at his hands. He tried to think of other things. He thought of the Daily
Prophet article that had come out after the explosion at the Three Broomsticks. There had been
an old photo of him from the beginning of the Triwizard Tournament; he was small and pale and
scared-looking. It looked laughable; the article said that Harry Potter had apprehended a Death
Eater, along with retired Auror Mad-Eye Moody. A weak-looking little boy and an old man.
How much of a threat could these Death Eaters have been, really, to be taken by them? That
was the upshot of the article. No mention was made of Voldemort’s return; it was as though
these Death Eaters were simply having a lark, and got caught. There was no image of the
smoking rubble, although there was a quote from Madam Rosmerta with her assertion that it
had been Sirius Black who had masterminded it; those caught were merely his stooges. Great,
Harry thought. Sirius is accused of yet another thing he didn’t do.
They had talked briefly when he had returned to Hogwarts after the ceilidh; they’d come here,
to Hagrid’s hut, where Sirius could change into his human form again. Because the Polyjuice
Potion had worn off, he would have to lie low for a little while, especially avoiding Hogsmeade.
And he would have to hope that Ian Lucas wouldn’t be questioned either. People in the
wizarding world knew he was Sirius’ cousin. He might be in trouble for aiding and abetting a
fugitive. This was such a mess, Harry thought. The only good thing was that two Death Eaters
would not be coming to Voldemort’s side when he summoned them. That was something.
He dared not look out the window; he could hear moaning from each of them, tiny gasps
occasionally. What should he do? he wondered. She seemed to be letting him, now. He felt ill.
He should go. She was going to do it; she was going to give herself to his enemy. He took the
basilisk amulet out of his shirt and held it in his fist. He had a sudden urge to tear it from around
his neck and throw it into the fireplace. But somehow, the moment he touched it, he felt calmer.
I need to trust her, he thought.
He raised his eyes to the dirty window, lifting up the corner of the curtain again. She seemed to
be trying to shove him away now; his head was between her breasts, but as she succeeded in
pushing him on the second try, Harry could see that her bra was still on, another bruise forming
on her chest in the V between the cups. She buttoned her blouse for the second time.
"I--we--have to stop. This is just-too much--"
"Listen, I’m sorry Ginny, it’s just that--well, it is your fifteenth birthday."
She stared at him openmouthed, putting her Hogwarts robes on again. "And you thought my
little birthday present to you was going to be sleeping with you?" It looked to Harry like that
was exactly what Malfoy thought. He opened and closed his mouth like a rather stupid-looking
fish, Harry thought. Ginny bent down, then thrust Malfoy’s robes at him.
"Just because I’m fifteen doesn’t mean I’m ready for this, Draco."
"You say that," he said, getting that argumentative tone Harry knew so well. "But what your
body was saying was very different."
"So what? So you know how to do things that--that make me respond certain ways. I’m still
governed by my brain. And my brain is just not ready for this yet. I know boys’ brains are
between their legs--"
"Hey!"
"Oh, come on. I have six brothers. And I’m not deaf. The things I hear at home! You know
how sometimes Muggles who see magic don’t even need memory charms because they just
convince themselves they imagined it? Well, my brothers seem to think I’m like that when
they’re talking about what it’s like to be a boy, about sex, about all that. I hear everything. I
remember and file it all away. You should have heard one of them going on and on when he was
waiting for his balls to drop...I won’t tell you which one..."
"Ginny!" Draco Malfoy actually sounded horrified on behalf of all of the Weasley boys.
Truthfully, Harry was too. He wondered if it was Ron...
"Oh Draco! You really don’t understand, do you? I’m not a prude; I’m just not mentally ready
to have sex."
Malfoy grimaced at her. Harry did, too; there was just something so uncomfortable about
hearing a girl talking about the things boys were concerned with, the things they hoped girls
didn’t know. He thought, Malfoy will have to be a right wanker, waiting for her...
"Well," Malfoy said, his voice shaking. "When do you think you’ll be ready?"
She stared at him. "How should I know? I just turned fifteen. I know that it used to be that
when a witch turned fifteen it was considered a very big deal, her parents would throw a big
party for her and invite wizards who might be interested in marrying her, and sometimes the girls
would get married while they were still in school, and they’d go to be with their husbands during
holidays instead of their parents. But that was a long time ago; nobody does that anymore. Just
because I’m fifteen doesn’t mean I’m on some kind of schedule, like a bloody train! Maybe this
was a bad idea; maybe I’m too young to be in a relationship like this. I’m just frustrating you..."
Both Malfoy and Harry felt panic then. If she and Malfoy weren’t together, what would happen
to the plan for putting Lucius Malfoy into Azkaban? Malfoy, however, looked panicked for a
different reason.
"No, Ginny! It’s my fault. I shouldn’t be putting so much pressure on you." Harry was shocked
to hear him taking blame. Then he was shocked to hear his own name. "I have to ask, though; is
this something to do with Potter?"
She rolled her eyes and threw her hands into the air. "No! This has nothing to do with Harry!
This is about me! I am just not ready!"
Malfoy drew his lips into a line, mumbling an apology. He kissed her on the lips, briefly, softly,
like that first tentative kiss in the Potions Dungeon. Then, without another word, he turned and
stepped into the forest, and Harry could see him skimming the edge of it, until he was out of
sight. Then Harry realized that she would probably be coming back into the hut. He ran across
the room and had his hand on the door when she came in from the back, stopping in shock
when she saw him.
"Uh, hi! There you are, Ginny. I just came in to look for you."
She looked skeptical. But she didn’t contradict him. "I just felt like sitting out back, alone. I like
to look at the forest." She was standing only about a foot away from him now, and he couldn’t
fight the urge to suddenly move his lips to her cheek, making only a brief contact with it.
"Happy birthday, Ginny," he said softly. She looked at him with wide eyes.
"We should go back out," she said shakily. He nodded and opened the door. When they
returned to the large table, only Ron, Parvati, Neville and Hermione were sitting there with
Hagrid. Everyone else had gone; it was almost time for the evening meal, but the sun wasn’t
ready to go down yet. The days had started lengthening again; they were hurtling toward
midsummer and the end of the school year. Suddenly, it seemed that his fifth year had gone very
fast. Harry felt he had crammed a huge amount of material into his brain, and wondered whether
he would remember any of it when he took the O.W.L.s. Perhaps McGonagall would give him
full marks for Transfiguration just because he’d learned to be an Animagus.
He wished he could transform now and run into the forest; Hermione was looking back and
forth between him and Ginny with a furious expression; she had noticed the bruise on Ginny’s
neck. He sat next to her and whispered, "She met him behind the hut." Hermione nodded when
she heard this, but she still looked at Harry oddly. He fingered the basilisk amulet again. Out of
the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a fair-haired figure emerge from the forest on the far
bank of the lake; then the figure skirted the lake, went behind the greenhouses, and up to the
castle. What if something had happened and I hadn’t been there? he wondered. Then he looked
at Ginny; he remembered that she was ranked third in the Dueling Club and that Malfoy hadn’t
beaten her dueling (although he wasn’t convinced that Malfoy was trying, actually). She can
take care of herself, he tried to tell himself. She would never let him do anything she didn’t want
to do. The question that bothered him was--
What did Ginny want to do?
* * * * *
