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Ch 2- Consequences of Passion and Truth

The next morning, Harry was finding it very hard to keep a straight face, seeing as Ginny was sitting next to him at breakfast. The main reason was the presence of her hand moving slowly up and down his thigh underneath the table. She seemed to be enjoying the silent torture he was under.

"Harry, dear? How long did Ron say he would be?" asked Mrs. Weasley, shocking him out of his thoughts about Ginny's hand rather abruptly. Harry chanced a mildly frightened glance at Ginny. Truthfully, he had been so wrapped up with thinking about her last night that he couldn't even say he remembered Ron coming to bed. He definitely didn't remember seeing him this morning.

"Er..." he started to reply, but Ginny cut him off.

"Actually, I heard him in the bathroom this morning. He's still a bit hung over from the reception," she lied, unblushingly, taking a bite from her breakfast.

"We didn't-"Fred and George started, taking seats at the table across from Harry and Ginny, before getting a look from her that said "continue-and-you'll-both-be-wishing-you-were-the-ones-not-at-this-table."

"Well, then I'll just leave him be," answered Mrs. Weasley, who sounded a little suspicious of them, continued over to the table, putting fried eggs and bacon on Fred and George's plates. "It's just odd that Hermione isn't up yet. She's usually up before everyone else."

"I checked on her this morning. She looked absolutely horrible," Ginny lied again. "I think I'll go check on her once more," she added, nudging Harry with her foot.

"Er, yeah, I think I'll go check on Ron, too," he said quickly, getting up and heading for the stairs with Ginny. Once they were far enough up the staircase, they almost collapsed trying to keep their laughter quiet. "Maybe we should start this search in the bushes," he whispered, trying as hard as he could to keep his laughter to a minimum, so as not to arouse the suspicions of the people in the kitchen. At this, Ginny had to clap a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

"Come on Harry, we should probably find them before someone else does," she said between giggles, getting to her feet and giving him her hand.

When they got to Percy's old room, where Hermione was staying, they didn't bother knocking. They were probably both passed out by now any way, right? Wrong. So very wrong. Opening that door was like opening one of the boxes marked "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes" in Fred and George's old room. It was extremely stupid to open without asking what was inside first (should this be added to my list?) and when you did open it; bad things were bound to happen. When they opened her door, many things happened in quick succession. First, noises so loud they should have been heard with the door shut finally came to their ears. Then, they saw a head of messy red hair over the brown, bushy head of hair belonging to Hermione on her bed. Lastly, the worst thing happened. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley chose that exact moment to walk past the door. This time it was Ron who squealed at the sight of his parents, not noticing Harry and Ginny, who had slipped off into the corner at their arrival.

"RONALD WEASLEY!" bellowed Mrs. Weasley, who was standing, with her hands on her hips, in the doorway, looking ready to kill. "WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING? YOU ARE ONLY SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD! WHAT IF YOU GET HER PREGNANT?"

"Now, Molly, dear, I'm sure they took precautions, correct?" Mr.Weasley said through gritted teeth, trying to remain calm.

"Uh... yeah, about that..." Ron mumbled from his very bad position on Hermione's bed, with her next to him, the covers pulled up to her chin.

"What! You told me you cast the spell, you bloody prick!" hissed Hermione, turning to look at him.

"I did! I mean, I was going to... I got kinda distracted..." he trailed off feebly, causing more shrieks from both Hermione and his mother.

"Come on, Harry. We should probably go talk," came a soft voice in his ear. He nodded, taking Ginny's hand in his and leading her out past Mr. Weasley, leaving a screaming Mrs. Weasley in the middle of Hermione's room.

"Are you sure it's okay to leave them alone in there with your mother that angry?" he questioned, looking back at the door through which they had just left.

"Yeah. If worse comes to worse, dad will probably be dragging her out of there kicking and screaming," she replied nonchalantly. "But we really do have to talk," As she led him down the staircase and out to the bench in the backyard, he knew that she wanted to talk about the very dicey subject that was their future. He was not looking forward to it. They sat down on the gray stone bench surrounded by sweet smelling hyacinths and hydrangeas, which were her Ginny's favorite. She took a deep breath before beginning.

"Harry-"she started before he cut her off.

"No, Ginny. Let me be the one to talk this time. Will you let me do that?" He looked at her with an almost pleading look in his eyes, but there was love nonetheless. She nodded, never taking her eyes off of him. "Ginny, when I broke up with you, it wasn't something I wanted to do. I needed to do it. Voldemort has used the people I loved to lure me, to try to make me 'act the hero'. He used Sirius and trying to save him got him killed anyway. I can't stand the thought of, one night, getting a vision of you being tortured," he had his head in his hands now. "or already dead. I never want to have to go to your funeral. Not ever. But there's more to why I did what I did," He really didn't want to get into this. He hadn't really planned to even mention it. He just got started talking...

"Harry? What is it? What's the other reason?" came Ginny's voice from beside him. He looked up at her, seeing that she had tears in her beautiful eyes. There was no going back now. He took a deep, steadying breath.

"Voldemort split his soul to create Horcruxes. Six, in fact. Something no wizard has been able to do before. Because to make a Horcrux, to split your soul, you have to kill someone, and then use a complicated charm to separate and place a piece of your soul in an object."

"Harry? What exactly are Horcruxes supposed to do?" she asked, but he could tell in her voice that she already had an idea on the answer.

"They make you immortal," he told her, at which she gave a little gasp.

"So... Voldemort's immortal? She questioned, looking him right in the eyes. He could tell she was a little surprised at the prospect.

"For now. But out of six Horcruxes, two have been destroyed," he told her. "which brings me to my other reason. I didn't want you to have anything to do with the Horcruxes, because in two months, Ron, Hermione and I are to go searching for the remaining four and destroy them. His original plan was to create seven, and the last bit is inside him. You know that prophecy?" He was going somewhere from where he couldn't return now. "The one that smashed?" She nodded. "Well, that wasn't the only record. Dumbledore was the one it was made to, and he showed me his record at the end of fifth year. I'm the Chosen One, Ginny. I'm the only one with the power to kill him. That's the other reason why I broke up with you. I can't put you in that kind of danger," Harry finished, his head buried in his hands, which were running through his hair in frustration. She just wrapped her arms around him, and they sat like that for awhile, until Ginny finally spoke.

"You do know that Ron and Hermione are not indestructible, right?" she whispered in his ear, trying desperately to lighten the mood. He groaned.

"Do you think I like putting my friends in danger? I should be doing this alone!" he spat at her, his anger rising.

"Of course I know that you don't like putting your friends in danger! But you shouldn't be doing this alone, either! This means I'm going to be with you every step of the way, whether I'm here or standing right next to you." She said, her voice full of concern.

He just gave her a little nod, knowing that she wouldn't back down, no matter what he said. "I just don't want anyone else to die at my fault," he muttered, taking her hand and leading her inside, away from the growing darkness and cold air. If only he could lead her away from danger.


"Have they changed colors yet?" asked Hermione's anxious voice a month and a half later.

"Not yet," whispered Ginny, who was sitting cross-legged in front of two small cauldrons, each of which was a bubbling, clear, water-like color.

"Are you nervous?" Hermione asked while pacing around the room and wringing her hands, unable to look at the pair of cauldrons.

"Scared out of my mi-" she started, but was cut off by the potions' sudden change in color; one was a stony black, the other a frothy white. Hermione quickly consulted her potions book.

"Mine's negative. Thank Merlin," she said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Ginny was positive she knew what hers meant, but she took a glance at the potions book anyway.

"Ginny?" Hermione asked, her voice sounding miles away.

"Positive..." she said, her voice no more than a whisper, before fainting.


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