FicWad

He woke with a feeling of overwhelming fear and regret. Aching loss. There was more... much more; he felt dizzy with the whirl of emotions and perceptions that he couldn't sort out... but those three were so powerful that focusing on anything else was impossible. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry stupid why did I make you do it why do you even listen to me, oh god, why why what am I going to do if you don't wake up it would kill Mum to lose both of us but if I've killed you I can't live with that and oh please, please wake up my love, I can't bear it I need you and I don't know if I can hold on to myself much longer..." He didn't actually hear the words. He felt them. Felt every wave of emotion that accompanied them, felt the threatening madness pushing just behind them.

Slowly he managed to figure out what was him, and what was not. "No," he whispered. "Don't. Okay."

She froze. "H-harry?" There was another confusing whirl of sensation, but it was sorted out more quickly and he soon realised that what he felt was her cradling his upper body in her lap and holding his head against her bosom with a tight, almost strangling grip, and crying with pure relief. "Thank you thank you love you what would I have done oh god alive alive ALIVE!" Relief spiralled up into intoxicating joy, the emotional energy still feeling wild and raw.

"Too much," he managed.

She loosened her grip slightly. "It hurts him, I can feel it why can I feel it? Confused that could be me though but not sick, dizzy, I got over that before he woke up oh god he woke up he's alive love you love you, so beautiful, going to take care of you, protect you, easy easy... trying to calm things, quiet things, breathe, easy, easy... focus. There now." The fast, tumbling flow of her thoughts slowed, calmed. "If you can hear me, Harry (my love my darling alive alive!) you should be able to draw back enough that you only get what you want to, or go deeper (scared, scared, he'll see and he'll never love me why did I do this?) and find whatever you want."

Harry took a deep breath. "Do you want me to go deeper?"

She answered him the same way, without even realising it. "That's why I had you do it, so you could see (I'm so scared of what he might see!) everything you need (I need, too. Need to know if I'm still me) to. I trust (love) you. (But I'm scared and that hurt should it have hurt?) Go ahead."

Her sudden pleasure at his words wrapped around him, giddy, intense, but with a bittersweet tinge to it. It soothed his own confused emotions, giving him a measure of control that he hadn't managed yet, and tendrils of it followed him down into the deeper levels of her mind, providing a vivid contrast to the dark chaos he found there.

He hadn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't what he found. The first thing that became blatantly obvious was that Ginny was far more inundated with the essence of Darkness than he was of Light, though there was slightly less actual power there. It seeped into every corner of her soul, twining around memories and dreams and feelings, affecting every part of her. It was painful enough for him that he froze at first, overwhelmed at finding him surrounded by the Power that stood opposite his own. If he hadn't had a tiny bit of that Darkness of his own, he would have been forced to retreat, lest he go mad or simply die. But he did, and it spread through him, spider-web thin but enough to ease the pain, enough to let him see the order in the chaos, the sense in the Darkness.

Carefully, for her Dark drenched soul seemed even more pained by his presence than he was to be there, and her entire essence quivered with fear, he began to explore, brushing against strands of memory and desire. Too many of them were tangled in knots of conflicting emotions-- fear and longing, lust and revulsion, hate and need-- but some things were solid and unconflicted, the things that made her who she was. Confidence was still there, still firm, though eroded by tendrils of fear and uncertainty. Pride, loyalty, a sense of responsibility to family, to him in particular, to other wizards, to the world in general but not, oddly, to self. A love of mischief, not as innocent as maybe it once was. The pressing need to know how people work, what they think. And, as much a part of her as anything else, was her love for him. The memories were there, to show when and how... that early crush had embarrassed her, it had caused her to give herself away and act foolishly. She would have tried to get rid of it, except... then the Chamber happened, and she changed, and the crush disappeared and was replaced by a respect that bordered on the religious, and a deep, sad understanding that the two of them alone could actually understand how they'd been changed. A solid, unshakable love grew out of that, and lasted even as the tendrils of Darkness had burrowed deep into her soul and made her doubt everything else. It was her touchstone, her foundation, and she needed him desperately, and yet never would have told him of that need voluntarily, because she knew him well enough to know what choice he would make, even if it wasn't what he wanted for himself.

It was easy to go from there and see the things she'd dreamt of him. From the earliest, nearly chaste girlish fantasies, to passionate images that were more graphic than anything he'd ever imagined. For a long time, all she'd wanted was him, in any and every way and some ways he'd never considered but couldn't imagine objecting to. But the newer fantasies, the ones since the Dark had expanded to fill every empty space, were different.

Hidden in the Dark corners were flashes of almost everyone she'd seen, whether or not her mind recoiled from the thought of them. Logical candidates, the better looking boys at school, then the not-so-good looking ones, frequently kneeling nude and chained, looking up at her worshipfully, but just as frequently there was just a flash of an image— two people entwined on a table in the Great Hall, sometimes she was one of them, sometimes he was, sometimes they were together, but often, neither of them was even involved in the action but she was always at least watching. Watching as Dean shoved Lavender against the wall and just pushed her robes up despite weak protests. Watching as Susan Bones slapped Pansy Parkinson and then shoved her down to her knees and lifted her robes. Watching as an entire table of Ravenclaw lost their usual logical detachment and fell on each other hungrily. She was always there, always near, basking in lust, fear, hunger, all of it. And she wanted them to want her. Not to have her, not really, as far as he could tell, but she wanted to be watched with hungry eyes, she wanted to feel the desire, feed on it, play with it. Giving in to it would be a temptation, but denying it and making it build further was even more delicious. She wanted him to fuck her in front of them... that was the way her mind phrased it, with great relish. Fuck her, hard, savagely, with lustful faces all around. She wanted the lust, and the envy, even the shock and anger and outrage. She wanted to laugh at rules and just take or do whatever she wanted.

It was an education in human sexuality like he'd never expected. And that was just on the barely hidden levels. Reeling, he brushed another strand and found himself in memories. She lay in her bed at home, her body taut with aching, frustrated desire, not understanding why she wanted so very much, but not able to deal with not having it. He felt her fingers as his own as they ran over her child's body, stroking, petting, seeking... and finding. Awkward, embarrassed, then frantic and yearning, then finding that first shattering release. He slid through her experiences, found that fumbling, awkward, and heartbreakingly boring exploration with poor Neville. And, to his surprise and with some shock, an equivalent experience with Hannah Abbot, and felt the desperation that had driven her to try it, and the crushing despair when it proved to be only slightly less disappointing.

He followed the memory of that despair down into darker waters, into the things he could feel she was afraid for him to see. A feeling of shame caught his attention, and he was shocked to find lustful images of her brothers, particularly Bill and Charlie, that matched those she'd had of everyone else. The images were wrapped in shame, wound around with fear and denial. But they were only the dreams that floated on the surface of a deep, crowded pool. So, still not knowing quite what to think, he dove deeper, determined to see the worst. Tiny flashes, then. Herself spread-eagled and what looked like about three professional Quidditch teams taking turns on her. Then a flash of her on a forest form with her legs wrapped around the pumping hips of a werewolf in half-man form. Then Harry himself wrapped around... Draco Malfoy?! He'd thought he'd lost the ability to be shocked, but he hadn't. Still... none of it so far actually felt like she wanted it, except for the aspect of being watched and desired. None of it felt real. Quite a bit of it she was revolted by. It was obvious, at least to him, that the Dark magic and its need to be fed had prompted most of them, and her not knowing what it was had led her down paths she might never have otherwise taken. Maybe the fact that she was brought to it by Tom Riddle's mind had something to do with that, too. He would have enjoyed making the previously innocent girl see and want things she'd never dreamed, things she'd be horrified by.

Finally, Harry found himself at the bottom of the deeply buried desires, a dark film swirled before him, and he could feel her fear pressing in from all sides. Nothing scared her so much as what lay beyond that film.

"I love you." He dove through the film.

Shame, fear, sad resignation, and then swirling mists parted to show him what frightened her most.

She straddled his hips, both of them naked and glistening with sweat, and moved on him with slow, deliberate strokes. She watched him until he tossed his head from side to side and grabbed her waist, but smiled and kept her movement slow and careful, and when he opened glazed green eyes to stare up at her desperately, she smiled and whispered, "I want you to bleed for me..." He groaned, shuddering, and nodded, then stretched his arms above his head, wrapping a loop of rope around his wrists and holding on tightly. And then she ran nails turned to claws down his chest, and screamed and writhed on his cock as he bucked beneath her.

The scene changed before he could tell whether or not his phantom image was supposed to be still enjoying the scenario or not. The next image was similar, except this time they were both bleeding, and their mingled magics were a hot, thick taste in the air as they rubbed their slick bodies together, licking and nipping and moaning. No doubt about his enjoyment of that one. He did wonder, though, exactly how she'd developed such an accurate image of the intimate portions of his body.

Another blink, and this time she lay on her stomach, her head on her folded arms, perfectly still as he slid needle after needle beneath her skin, magically closing each into a solid ring. The only sound was an occasional soft moan. When there was a double row down her back, he threaded a ribbon through the loops, crisscrossing it between each set, then tied it off in a bow. When he reached down and grabbed the taut lacing, she shuddered, spreading her legs and arching her back invitingly. "Now," she whispered. "Fuck me. Hurt me. Make me bleed..."

The scene flickered and changed, a quick image of her sinking vampire-like fangs in the side of his neck. Then, again, and he was dangling by his wrists, while a leather whip cracked across his back. Again, and she was tied down, screaming from pain unseen... then pleasure unseen... then some impossible mix of both. A shift of perspective, and he was the one screaming. Once more, and he stood behind her, his arms about her waist, a knife in her hand dripping blood while someone else screamed and begged first for mercy then, with a flicker of scenery, for more. On and on... not always pain, not always pleasure, and sometimes both, but frequently blood and always tension... whether from being brought to the peak of passion and kept there as long as possible, or from anticipation of the pain or pleasure that came next. Usually they were alone, but not always... there seemed to be a particular perverse thrill for her in having him watch her do things she considered unforgivable, and even more in coaxing him to join her. And often, as before, they played to an unseen audience whose lust, fear, or both made her glow with pleasure. Then the images became more violent. For a while, they were just as sexual, but without either of them present except for her watching over to the side. It seemed that even in her darkest fantasies she wouldn't allow more than superficial damage to be done to him. Or, he noticed, to much of anyone at all. Most of her fantasy victims were faceless and voiceless, though he did come across a vignette of Lucius Malfoy, impaled on a glass spire with his own weight slowly driving him further onto it, his hands chained behind him, while his son stood watching, tossing the key to the chains from hand to hand. Lucius showed up in a few more places, as well... torn apart by giant wolves, hung from a tree and skinned alive, having his heart carved out atop some sort of bizarre pyramid... and Cornelius Fudge made a few appearances as well, usually when fire was involved. A flicker of Dumbledore's long white beard on a skeleton locked in a hanging cage was, so far, his only appearance, but her enmity to him was still new. Explosions rocked a landscape in shades of red and black, lightning tore through the sky and blew tall towers into dust and blobs of molten rock. Volcanoes rose and erupted with impossible speed, and he could taste fear and pain in the very air itself. She walked through a nightmare dreamscape, creating chaos, glorying in destruction, unleashing storms and raising fire from the earth, and she loved it. Then, at the top of the tallest volcano, a tiny, unidentifiable figure perched on the rim for just a moment, then jumped, and the feeling of that sacrifice, of the innate magic of it, was better than the rest of it put together. And everything calmed.

He drifted in gentle blackness, the needs of the Dark power fighting to gain full hold in her mind momentarily soothed by the catharsis of revelation, its chaotic tendrils calmed and still for right now. He could feel it brushing against him, as if it were a curious cat investigating an intriguing smell, and while it seemed to accept his presence without complaint, it also wrapped around him, urging him gently up and out, into the range of her conscious mind, where she waited with fear and grim determination.

He let it push him out, and then he reached into his own memories, reaching for his fantasies of her-- fantasies which embarrassed him, now, in their simplicity, as they'd gone little farther than the image of her body. He made no attempt to hide the fact that he simply hadn't known enough to fantasise further.

Then he began to draw on what he'd learned from her fantasies to further his own. Her body stretched tight, back arched and muscles tensed, as he drew a feather up between her legs. Sitting on the couch in the common room, his hand slipped through a slit in her robes, fingers making a gentle circling motion as she desperately tried to hide her reaction from the others in the room.

And then he reached for the things that scared him, the things that he had reacted to with a mixture of fear and desire. She'd been brutally honest with him, and he forced himself to reply in kind.

On her knees in front of him, using her mouth in a way that had utterly shocked him when he'd seen it in her mind, yet left him achingly hard in an instant. Then the same image, but this time with Hannah kneeling beside her, taking turns, kissing her in between.

Then, on her knees, facing the other way, kneeling in front of Hannah. Then Susan Bones. Then the Patil twins, kneeling in front of /her/, taking advantage of the fact that two mouths could suckle both breasts at once.

Then, despite his desire to pull back, to hide it from her, the image of her and one of the twins, each with their heads between the other's thighs... and him between the other girl's legs, sliding into her, as the other twin knelt behind the redhead, adding her efforts to her sister's, performing an act which he would never have believed anyone would ever do before he saw her fantasies.

Finally, with a sense of shame he couldn't hold back, she was on her knees in front of him, and he was pressing into her mouth as another man knelt behind her, shoving her forward onto him. And in the shadows to the sides, other men waited....

"Come out." It was just a whisper in her mind, but it seemed to echo all around him. "I need to be sure what's me (scared, confused, scared) so I need some distance, if you can (the spell went wrong already)."

"No. It went the way I truly desired."

"I know." She sighed, and he felt her lips pressed against his forehead. "But that wasn't how it was supposed to (stubborn obstinate male!) work. And I can't separate me from you (do I really want to, though?) and I need to. So come out."

Harry pulled back. "I'd meant to do the one you wanted, but I guess since I really wanted to do the reciprocal one...."

She kissed him softly. "I know," she said, as she sat back up, and he could feel her presence sliding out of his mind, leaving behind an emptiness that he'd never realised was there. Now that he did, though, it ached.

"Come back," he said.

She hugged him tightly. "I'm right here, Harry."

"It... hurts for you not to be there."

"Oh love..." He felt her carefully reaching out, letting enough of her presence seep in that he could feel that she was /there/, but not so much that his thoughts felt exposed. Strong feelings, maybe, but not everything. That painful, lonely emptiness was filled, though, and as he relaxed he realised that he hadn't quite drawn all the way out of her mind; he still had the same level of contact she'd returned to with him. He could no longer hear her thoughts, and her emotions were a faint trace and no longer mistakable for his own, but apparently he hadn't actually managed to leave her all the way.

"Thank you," he said, relaxing. "It... you were completely gone, and it was painful."

"I didn't realise it would hurt you," she said. "I thought... well, that you'd need the privacy right now." She spoke carefully, her whole attitude one of caution, even though she made no attempt to remove his head and shoulders from her lap or to move away from him.

Harry frowned for a moment, thinking. "I need to do this right," he said. He reached for one of the willow branches beside him, choosing one that had been splashed with their blood. As he concentrated, it glowed, and then shrank. When the light faded, a ring lay in the palm of his hand. The grain of the wood could still be seen, marked out in different shades of gold, and a single emerald in the shape of a leaf topped the ring. "Ginevra Weasley, will you marry me?"

She hesitated, staring at him, and he could feel her tentatively touching his mind, searching for his feelings. "Are you sure? I... I mean... why?"

"Because no one else could ever do," he said. "No one could compare to this, to... to you."

She could feel that he meant the words. Could feel the emotion behind them, and he could feel, in turn, how strongly that affected her. Her hope, pleasure and love were intoxicating. Still, there was a thread of uncertainty, and she wanted to be sure. "You... saw what I could become?"

He nodded. "And you saw...."

She bit her lip and looked away. "P-perfectly normal fantasies for a teenage boy. Nothing bad. Nothing that hurt anyone."

"Nobody but you," he said, shamed.

She shook her head. "In the fantasy, I wasn't hurt," she said. "You didn't imagine me crying, or upset, or angry."

"Yes, but it would hurt you, even if you didn't show it. I'm... I'm sorry."

"Harry... given the things that are inside me... I have no right to be hurt, or angry, or anything else, no matter what you do."

"Yes you do," he said. "Of course you do."

"No, I don't. That'd be hypocritical."

"Why?" he asked.

"Because the things I keep seeing are so much more extreme, more hurtful than anything you might ever imagine that it'd just be plain stupid to tell you that you oughtn't think that way," she said. "And... and I know you won't do anything I don't want you to." She closed her eyes and shivered. "I'm afraid that someday, I won't care what anyone wants."

"Why do you think that?" he asked, surprised. "You didn't even want to actually do most of those things."

"I don't right now," she said, tightly. "But when one of the compulsions hits, it's so strong. When it has hold of me, I do want it, so much it frightens me, whether or not it makes me feel ill afterward. And there's no thought of who it would hurt, unless it's to think that the pain might make it better."

"But that's not you," he said. "You aren't being corrupted, you know."

"How do you /know/?" she asked. "I feel so different, sometimes, like I'm someone else entirely, and it just keeps getting worse and I'm so scared that there's going to come a point where I just... give in."

"Exactly," he said. "It might... it will, eventually, take over. But it won't be you. If you were being corrupted, you would want to do those things."

She bit her lip. "I do want some of them, Harry," she whispered. "Whether I think it's right, or not, some of them I still can't help but want. You saw that."

He nodded. "Yes. But not any of the ones that would hurt anyone."

"No, love. That's not true."

"Yes, it is," he said.

"No, it isn't. You know that," she said. "You could feel it, feel how much they affect me, even when the impulse has left. I don't know why. But it's true, and I'd be lying if I denied it. It's warped and evil, but the idea of you hurting for me is... so good..." She closed her eyes. "Or hurting me. Or just... bleeding. And being watched, being seen as some kind of... I don't know, Veela or something... flaunting and showing off and... performing. I can't deny it. Not to you."

Harry opened his mouth to reply, but stopped, looking for the right words. Finally, he asked, "Did this hurt you?" He traced the silvery scar the cut on her stomach had left.

She nodded, covering his hand with her own.

"No, I mean I know it was painful, but did it hurt you?" he asked.

"I wasn't harmed by it, if that's what you mean," she said. "But that's different. It had a reason. It was worth it. It wasn't just because you wanted to hurt me."

"So would the... the things you want."

"No. I don't want them for magic, or for any good reason, or to make something work better," she said. "I just... want them. Because it would feel good. That's... not right. It isn't. And it's certainly not worth anyone actually doing it."

"Why isn't it right, if nobody's getting hurt?"

"You would be getting hurt! Even if I just gave in to the ones where it was me, I know you don't want to hurt me, and making you would hurt you! And it would bloody well hurt me if you wanted to go around in leather trousers and flirt with every girl in the place encouraging them to want you!" She shook her head, frustrated. "Why aren't you getting this? I know you can feel that I'm telling you the truth! Why aren't you reacting like you should?"

Harry swallowed. He couldn't hide his sense of shame from the link. She ran her fingers over his cheek, frowning. "I won't go deep enough to pry. You don't have to tell me."

"I-- I can't. Look, please."

She stared into his eyes for a moment, worried and unhappy, then sighed and nodded. Closing her eyes, she quested gently for what he didn't want to tell her.

She recoiled, pulling out of his mind so fast and so completely that it made him gasp with the pain of it, leaving behind only the memory of sudden horror. "Oh no... what did I do to you?"

"Ow! What are you talking about?" he asked, grabbing his head.

"I'm sorry!" She slid her hands under his, gently messaging his temples, but the place inside him where she belonged stayed empty. "I didn't mean to hurt you, but... I know you didn't feel like that before. I know that before you touched my mind, you would never have thought of such a thing. You're the Light one, if you're thinking of pain and blood as something desirable, then it's not coming from /you/. It must have spread from me."

"Um... says who?" he asked.

"Says nobody! Nobody knows anything about this stuff! But it's logical, and the only thing that makes any sense!"

"Why? Why can't I like it?"

"You'd never even thought about it. I never even thought about it, before all this started happening to me," she said. "Normal people, good people, don't. I know that you'd never hurt anyone, if you had a choice. Else your aunt and uncle would be dead by now."

"It's not about the... the pain," he said. "But the, um, connection... the intensity... why can't I want that?"

"There are other ways to connect... and other types of intensity. I can... sort of see that, but it wasn't there before this." she said. "And you saw... all the violence. I'm scared to get mad, now. Scared of what I might do."

"I didn't know it was possible before." He swallowed. He wasn't getting used to her absence in his head; if anything, it was getting worse. "Come back, please."

"I don't want to corrupt you any more," she whispered.

"It hurts."

She looked torn, then nodded hesitantly, and let just a touch of her awareness creep back into his mind. "I never wanted to hurt you. But I'm very afraid that I will, do you see?"

"Blood and pain are acceptable, if there's a good reason?" Harry asked.

"Yes. If it's worth it," she said. "This isn't. It's just... cruelty."

"What's worth more than love?"

She closed her eyes, and he could feel her trembling. "How can you believe I love you, when I want to hurt you? And if I allowed you to let me, would I be worth loving at all?"

"Yes," he said firmly.

She stared at him, feeling the truth the belief, but not really understanding it. "Aren't I turning into exactly the kind of person you're fighting against?"

"No."

"What's the difference, then?" she asked. "Because I can't see one, and that scares me to death!"

"Would you do it?" he asked softly. "If you had Malfoy here, right now, would you do it?"

She looked him in the eyes, and he could feel a deep sadness along with resignation in her mind. "I don't know. I'd kill him, though. And if it hurt... I'd enjoy it. I don't think I'd torture him first, but Harry... it wouldn't be because I didn't want to. It'd be because I wouldn't risk him getting away." She lowered her eyes and sighed. "I probably wouldn't make his son watch, though, even if I could. There's always the slight possibility that if I gave him a chance to save him he'd take it."

"What about Wormtail?" Harry asked.

"In a heartbeat. He deserves it," she said. "I might make it fast, just because I couldn't stand to touch him, but... he deserves for it to be long and creative."

"Some random Death Eater?"

She shrugged. "It would depend on who they were, and what they'd done."

"Rita Skeeter?"

She hesitated for a long moment, then said with a touch of reluctance. "Not right now. But I enjoy the thought of doing so enough that I don't think that I can really say that I'd never do it."

"What about Crabbe, or Goyle?"

"Their fathers, maybe. The two of them... not yet," she said. "I might hurt them, but I wouldn't kill them yet. They may still be able to learn. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't enjoy doing what I did."

"Pansy Parkinson?"

"No," she said. "If you knew what... Well. I wouldn't hurt her unless she forced me to."

"Then no, you aren't like them. They'd do it just because they could," he said. "If she came to you, wanting a way out, what would you say?"

She sighed, looking away. "I don't know. A year ago, I might have told her to go to Dumbledore. Or the Aurors. Now... No one is safe. I'd be tempted to tell her to go to Switzerland, to be honest."

"That's it?" he asked.

"What else can I tell her, Harry? If she stays here, Wizard Law says her parents have control until she's 18. By then, she could already have been Marked. Until then, they can do pretty much whatever they want to her, as long as it falls within the area of 'discipline'. Her only other hope is to marry someone-- someone her social climbing parents will approve of, mind you, and there aren't many-- powerful enough to protect her, because she hasn't got it herself."

Harry grinned at her. "It's what you didn't say that's important."

"What?"

"No collar? No leash?"

She closed her eyes and blushed. "I couldn't help her, Harry. I'm not in any position to do so."

"You're going to be married to /me/. Of course— " He froze, realising she'd never answered.

"Oh Harry..." Tears trembled on her lashes as she looked at him. "I want to. More than anything. I'm just so scared! If I'm caught up in something I can't stop, I don't want to drag you with me down that path."

"Maybe I'm the anchor you need."

"I do need you," she whispered. "I don't think I have a chance without you. But... I meant what I said earlier. It's better me than you."

"Besides, I think it's too late to worry about that anyway," he said.

She bit her lip, and a tear escaped to roll down her cheek. "I know. I'm afraid of that, too. I shouldn't have let things go this far. If everything goes all to hell, it'll be my fault for not thinking when I should have. I should have realised what could happen. Hell, I never should have mentioned the spell existed. See? You can't trust me, Harry. I don't trust myself."

"I do trust you," he said.

"But you shouldn't! I don't! I do stupid things, I give in to crazy urges, it's been getting worse! Don't you understand?"

"I know it has! Why do you think I came here in the first place?"

The tear made it to the edge of her jaw and dropped off, splashing against his cheek. Irritably, she swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. "What... what do you mean?"

"I mean I found out, and then I came here, so I could help," Harry said.

"You... did?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"Then how can you trust me? How could you trust me before, if you knew it was happening?" she asked. "And did... do you think there's a chance, any chance at all?"

"Of course there is. I just have to get you into the Chamber of Secrets."

"Even if that's so, if we can manage to stop it, or slow it enough, it's already gone so far... So how can you trust me? I don't mean to tell you the truth... I'll do that as best I know how. But trust me with your safety, trust me not to hurt you or someone else or do something else crazy like this?" she asked.

"Ginny, it's not the fact that you're the Dark Lord that's the problem, it's that you don't have the power to control it. If you finish the process, you'll be fine," he said.

She stared at him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "I believe you," she whispered. "I have to, or I just can't face it. But... /now/, I'm not in control. I'm not fine, not anywhere near it."

"Yes, you are," he said. "Right now, right this instant, you're in control."

"This instant," she agreed, tightly. "But not earlier. And I'll lose it again before we even have a chance to try to finish it."

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. Maybe not. Touching helped, so /this/...."

"This... could help more," she agreed. "But we can't count on that. And it might just... spread to you." She nibbled her lower lip, looking down at him unhappily. "But it's too late to do anything about that now. I think you're strong enough to not let it affect you, at least for a while. Especially if we're careful. If neither of us goes any further than the very surface."

"I don't want to be careful," Harry said.

"Oh god!" She closed her eyes tightly, trembling, and the swell of need and desire that flooded from her was strong enough, even second hand, that it was physically painful.

"Wait..." Harry said slowly.

She didn't open her eyes, didn't move, except for her ragged breathing and the tiny vibration of her breasts caused by her rapidly beating heart.

"He gave me a bit of Darkness, and in exchange, I was supposed to give you a bit of Light once I was fully empowered," Harry said. "Maybe I shouldn't wait."

"Oh god," she repeated, in a whisper. "No, love. It's... okay. I'll be fine. You need everything you've got right now. I have more control now, you're right, it's just I... I've never had much control, not when it comes to you. Remember? I've never embarrassed myself so badly in my life!"

"Ginny... it might help us /both/."

"Both?" she asked. "How?"

"The Darkness in me responds to the Darkness in you, so...."

"So... wouldn't losing part of your Light make the Darkness even stronger?"

"I... don't know. But consider what Light magic /is/. What my mother did was one of the highest forms of Light magic," he said.

"I wish there was some way to find out," she said. "Someone to ask about all of this. It's just all so... different. And I'm afraid of doing the wrong thing. Right now... we should wait, I think." She cupped his cheek in her hands. "And you should be careful with me. Watch for signs that I'm losing it. Don't trust me too much. That's all I'm asking. Please? If you can do that, then... then maybe everything will be okay. Maybe it's okay. Everything, I mean."

"Honestly, I really don't see any way that sacrificing some of my Light to help you could hurt me. I suspect I'd end up with almost as much as I started with," he said.

"I can't either, but I don't understand any of this, not really," she said. "But you said that he told you to do it afterward. If he thought it would help, wouldn't he have told you to do it before?"

"I don't know," Harry said. "He may not have expected you to need it."

"That's just it... we don't know," she said. "What if you can't do what you need to do if you don't have it all? What if he would notice if you lost part of it? It's okay, really it is. I think I'll be fine. I just want you to be careful when you deal with me."

"What if this is what we need to beat him?"

"Then he would have mentioned it, I think," she said. "He didn't. He just had you promise to do it afterward. But... if it starts getting worse fast, if what we've already done isn't enough, I'll reconsider. Promise."

"Well... okay," Harry said.

"Then you promise to be careful?"

"As careful as I can."

She stared at him for a long time, then nodded slowly. "That's as good as I can expect, I guess." She bent and brushed her lips across his. "Yes."

Harry sagged in relief. "Thank you," he said, smiling.

"We have to live through the next year, first, love," she said softly.

"I wish we didn't," he said. "I wish we could do it now."

She reached down and closed his hand around the ring. "It's best like this. This way, if something happens, and I... well, if things go too wrong, then there's not another blood oath binding you to me."

"Like it would matter?" he asked.

"It would," she said. "Every bit of magical binding will make it harder, hurt you more, limit your options further. And... well, there are legal reasons to wait and see if I'm going to come out sane. There are still laws on the books that could be used to make a husband responsible for his wife's crimes."

Harry shrugged. "It doesn't matter, haven't you figured it out?"

"It matters to /me/," she said.

He shook his head. "It hurts when you're gone for even a few seconds, and it gets worse with time."

She bit her lip. "I... I'm sure it would fade, given enough time. It would hurt, but not forever. It couldn't."

"I don't think so," Harry said. "I don't think I'd survive very long without you."

She put her fingertips over his lips. "Don't say that! Please don't. Anyway... I might not actually die if things go wrong. They might just lock me up. In which case, you'd still be free to... do whatever you need."

"Like break you out? Give it up, Ginny. Whither thou goest...."

She groaned and pulled his head to her breast, hugging him tightly. "You're as crazy as I am! All of this is crazy!"

Harry closed his eyes. "Um, Ginny? If you want me to /think/, not a good idea...."

She giggled. "I don't see what difference it makes. Thinking hasn't done you a lot of good up to now," she said. "Thinking didn't keep you out of this impossible situation." But she released him, just a bit, just enough to look down at him, though his cheek was still pressed against one soft breast. "How the hell did this happen, Harry? It's so crazy... no one would believe us. To go from nothing to... whatever this is... is just insane, isn't it? But I need you. And I can't imagine not feeling this way."

"Neither can I."

"It's going to be hard, hiding this," she whispered, reaching up to stroke his cheek tenderly.

"We could run off and elope, if we were any older," Harry said.

For a moment, she was tempted. He could feel the trembling, barely restrained eagerness. Then she shook her head. "Like I said, no one would believe it. If they even guessed how we feel, with or without making it official, it would raise suspicions. Questions we can't really answer, not without getting carted off to Azkaban. Things need to seem to progress normally," she said, reluctantly, then shivered as she looked down at him. "Well, maybe a bit faster than normal, at least."

"Actually..." Harry said, as something occurred to him. "I don't think there's anything they could charge us with."

"Blood magic. Illegal magic. Illegal blood magic," she said.

"What illegal blood magic?" he said. "I don't remember any illegal blood magic."

"They could question us under Veritaserum, love. And would, if they figured out what had happened," she said. "There aren't many things that can produce this kind of effect. Best we just be careful."

"What illegal blood magic did we do?"

"Blood magic, by definition is illegal, Harry. All except for a very few allowed rituals. It doesn't matter that it wasn't the exact version which is listed in the books."

"It does if it was an /accident/," Harry said. "We were, um, making out, and the shard cut us both, and there was a surge of accidental magic just as I was saying I wished we could see into each other's souls...."

"Veritaserum, Harry. I'm sorry, love," she whispered. "I don't want to hide it, either. I don't want to have to be separated from you. I wish... but it just won't work."

"Damn," Harry said, before one of the bits of information Slytherin had dumped in his brain swam to the surface. "Actually... Slytherin had this really nifty anti-potion charm...."

"Really?" She smiled brilliantly, and then her face fell. "No. Though we should use that, anyway, if you can. Just in case. But think about it... if it was an accident, they might try to remove it."

"It can't be broken, can it?" he asked. "Especially if I'm wandlessly interfering with their attempts to do so. Accidental magic, you know."

"I... don't know. But I'm afraid of what they'd do if they tried," she admitted. "For one thing, they wouldn't want to give the bond a chance to get any stronger, so they'd separate us completely. Maybe really completely, shielding one of us so strongly that we can't touch anymore."

"Hmmm. Is there any way to get the bond to full strength?" Harry said.

She hesitated... "Time. Contact, physical and mental. At least, I think... it might not get any stronger. I don't think the original spell did. If anything it faded a touch with time. But this doesn't feel like I expected. I... um, I was kind of treating it like a really strong wedding oath, to be honest. Those do strengthen with time and intimacy."

"Is there any way to make them think it's unbreakable?"

"I just don't know... this isn't what I expected," she said. "I'm trying to look at all the possible drawbacks, and it's hard because all I really want to do right now is..." She broke off for a moment, blushing. "Um. Doesn't involve a lot of thinking. I don't want to be careful. I don't want to be safe. I just... I just want to be in love," she finished in a sad whisper.

"Then we do that," Harry said. "I'm pretty sure I can stop them from keeping us apart. I'm the Boy-Who-Lived, after all; I'm expected to do the impossible."

He could feel her conviction wavering, but she still shook her head. "My parents... I'm fourteen. They'd never agree. And I don't want to lose them yet, Harry, not yet. Not over this. I don't want you to lose them, either. You deserve to have a real family, if only for a while."

"I'd rather have you."

"If I have to choose, you know I'll choose you. No matter what," she said. "But I don't want to have to choose. I don't want this mixed up with that kind of pain. And we're not legal age. We won't be allowed to live on our own. At least here... I know how to get around the rules, the watching."

"Are you sure they'd object?" he asked. "Your mother... she didn't tell me not to. She didn't even hint that I shouldn't. She just told me to let you set the pace."

"She did?" Ginny blinked. "Huh. That's... but still. Maybe soon would be acceptable, but /right now/? She'd think something awful had happened."

"Or something wonderful. Like the bond."

"She'd be so worried... I just don't know. And my brothers... oh god." Her eyes widened. "Harry, my brothers would be certain you'd knocked me up!"

"Aren't there spells to prove I didn't?" he asked. "And it's not like I've had /time/, anyway."

"It doesn't take that much... I mean, we've been out here quite a while."

"Oh," he said. "But still... spells? To prove?"

"Um. Well, sort of," she said. "There are a couple. One used to be used... well, still is, by rich, stuck up bastards... to test the fidelity of a man's wife. If she glowed white, she was faithful. Red, meant she'd cheated on him. Blue, she cheated on him with two different men. Green, three men. Striped... well, she hadn't been a very wise choice as a wife, obviously." She smiled. "But that one wouldn't really work that well. It would glow pink if a woman hadn't slept with a man at all/, but I think it only works on married women. The other is a virginity detection spell. But they don't always work right if the person has an impure mind, and it'd be awfully embarrassing for it to give a false negative for me. Especially if it gave a positive for you. Besides, I'm hoping to /not be a virgin in the near future, you know."

"I meant to tell if you were pregnant or not."

"Not this early. It takes a bit," she said. "And really, they're not that reliable, Mum says. Anyway. They wouldn't believe it. They think you're clever, and they know I am."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"I mean they'd think you or I had rigged the charm," she said. "No way they'd believe that you'd want to marry me if I weren't pregnant, or that Mum would allow it, or... honestly, that I'd let you talk me into it, no matter how in love with you I am. They know I wouldn't do that to you if I had a choice, under normal circumstances."

Harry frowned. "Um. Isn't there supposed to be, um, physical proof of virginity?" he asked, his face flaming.

"You mean poke around and check for holes?"

"I, um, don't know," he said. "I just heard something about that."

"Well, yes. Of course, too much broomstick riding can remove /that/," she said, grinning down at him. "And no way to tell exactly how it was ridden or one type of broomstick from the other, either. Besides, even if that would work, how long are you planning on waiting?"

"I... don't know," he said. "But, um, after they're convinced, well...."

"They'd be watching. For days. Maybe weeks," she pointed out.

Harry smirked. "I can Apparate."

"Hmm. And if we could persuade my parents, they could just watch and be damned," she said, thoughtfully. "I... don't know. I could see ways it could be potentially beneficial. Or it could be used as a reason why you shouldn't have been left here. I think he would try to stop us, if he found out. But... Mum married early, too. Not this early. But early enough. Eloped, too. It might make her go all nostalgic, and if we play up you wanting it to be a private thing, not a circus for those filthy reporters... I don't know, love. Maybe it could work. It could also go horribly wrong. I..." She hesitated, then looked down to meet his eyes. "I'll go along with whatever you want," she said, softly, and he felt how hard it was for her to say those words to anyone, to voluntarily release control like that. "But can you tell me why it's so important to you? As you said, you can Apparate. We can find time and privacy aplenty."

"Because... I don't know how much time we have. Between him, and Voldemort, and everything else... I don't want to waste the time we do have pretending."

Once again, he found himself crushed against soft, lavender scented flesh. "Oh!" She trembled as she held him and stroked his hair. "Of course, love." She pulled back enough to kiss him thoroughly. "Whatever you want."

"Do you think we can convince them?" Harry asked.

"We'll find some way," she said. "And they want us to be happy. We'll just have to make sure they understand." She cocked her head thoughtfully. "Of course, if I were to get pregnant, they'd have to allow it."

He hesitated, then shook his head. "No. It's too risky."

"Oh love..." She cupped his face in her hands, tilting it up so she could look into his eyes, her face repentant. "I wasn't serious. Or, rather, I was thinking of counterfeiting a positive pregnancy spell. Not actually risking getting pregnant when we're going to war. But Harry, my darling, my family is not like your mother's. No matter what, no child of mine will go without love, without a real home. Even if they were furious at me, even if I went totally evil and took you with me, they'd protect our child with their lives, and love it as their own. That's what family means."

"I won't risk having a son or daughter grow up without their parents, even if they're loved," he said. "And, um... why would we have checked?"

"You wouldn't have had any reason," she said, smiling. "But I'm a girl. I could have got into all sorts of trouble last term."

Harry raised an eyebrow. "So now you want them to think it isn't mine?"

She shrugged. "They'd forgive me, if you did. And you'd be the hero, being so noble and all."

"No," he said. "I won't do that to you."

"I'd get you. You wouldn't hear me complaining," she said. "Besides, they're the only ones who would know for sure it wasn't yours."

He shook his head. "No. The rumours will be bad enough when we start living out your fantasies. I don't want to make it any worse. When your mother gets upset at the rumours, I'll be able to tell her honestly that you've never cheated on me."

He hit the ground with a thud as the warm lap he was laying in seemingly teleported out from beneath him. "Are you /crazy/?" she demanded.

"What?" he asked, watching her pace.

"We're bloody well not living out anything!" she snapped, as she stalked away from him. "Or, not much, anyway," she added, as she stomped back. "And certainly not anything that would cause /rumours/!" The last was snarled while spinning on her trim heel and yanking a willow frond from the tree, then she resumed pacing while stripping the leaves irritably from the thin, flexible branch.

"Um... Ginny?" Harry asked tentatively.

"What?" She stopped to glare at him, fists on her hips.

"Magical oath, remember?"

"I don't want them!" She was trembling hard, trying not to yell. "You even said so yourself. That you could tell I didn't want it."

"And we won't do the ones you don't want."

"Then it's not an issue," she said, resuming her pacing and leaf shredding.

"Yes, it is. Especially when you wear those tight leather shorts," Harry said.

"I don't own any leather shorts!" She was yelling again, and she knew it, and that just made her madder, and her pacing more furious. Harry began to hope the willow tree wasn't a transfigured dryad who could see what she was doing to its branch.

"Yet. I'll buy you some when we go to Diagon Alley."

"They don't have leather shorts in Diagon Alley. They don't have leather shorts anywhere except in Dean's magazines and Hermione's drawings," she said, trying hard to be patient. He could tell, too, that underneath the anger, the main force driving her was fear. "And if you were to buy me leather shorts, even after you married me, my mother would kill both of us. Twice. She'd have a Healer standing by to resurrect us just so she could do it again."

Harry giggled. "Still... you'd look hot in them."

"Well they don't make them," she said, bluntly. "Not here. And I couldn't wear them if they did. I'd get expelled. Possibly arrested."

"Leather shorts aren't a crime."

She stopped pacing to lean over him, her hands behind either side of his head on the log. Her eyes gleamed like molten honey, and one wayward strand of hair looked like a line of iridescent blood down her cheek. "If wearing leather shorts isn't a crime, then you're not wearing them right!" Her voice dropped to a husky purr, "Or do you really think I couldn't create mischief and mayhem just by wearing them down the street?"

Harry swallowed. "Um... no. No, you definitely could. And it might be criminal... but it's not a /crime/."

She laughed, low and triumphant, and he could swear he actually saw flames flickering in her eyes as she leaned closer. "Good boy," she murmured. "What would you like for a reward?"

"You," he managed.

Her lips hovered over his. "How?"

He swallowed. "In every possible way."

"Mmhmm. But what first?"

"Um...." Harry tried to think, but all the things he'd seen in her fantasies were swirling around in his head, and he couldn't settle on just one.

"Mmm?" Her tongue flicked across his lower lip. "Just say the word, lover," she purred. "How do you want me? What do you want me to do?"

"You choose..." he whispered.

"Alright," she whispered. "Now?"

"Yes...."

She wrapped a hand in his shirt, tugging at it. "Then take this off."

He swallowed, and tugged it over his head. She stood above him and watched with eyes hot enough that they should have burned where her gaze touched him, and then stepped forward and over his thighs and sat down, facing him, her knees on either side of his thighs. Never looking away from his face, she reached for his hands, kissing each one, then brought them up to rest on her ribs, just under her bra. "Now me," she whispered, gathering her hair on top of her head and leaning forward so he could reach the clasp.

His hands were shaking so badly that it took him several tries to undo the clasp, but she showed no signs of impatience, and all he could feel from her was intense desire and anticipation. Finally, the clasp separated, letting the rest of the garment sag just a touch. It was so fitted, though, that there was really no extra skin showing yet.

Ginny lowered her arms, and the bra sagged a bit further. "Go on," she whispered.

He swallowed, feeling dizzy, his emotions spiralling up, almost out of control, and tugged it away, the sunlight glinting off of the ring on his little finger. Her skin was so pale, so perfect. No Muggle girl with their halter tops and sunbathing would have skin like that. Only a witch, with skin never touched by the sun, could look like that. Tiny, soft pink nipples hardened as the fabric slid against them when he pulled it away, and her thighs tightened around his. "Oh please," she whispered, arching her back invitingly.

"God," he said, raising his hand to hesitantly, reverently caress the perfect skin. She gasped, and her hand came up to cover his, pressing it against her. With a soft moan, she rocked her hips, making him painfully aware that the only thing that separated them was a layer of thin silk, loose trousers worn soft by many washings, and his own threadbare and now rather too tight undershorts.

He leaned forward, his lips brushing across her soft nipple, and she whimpered. One of her hands gripped his hair tightly, and with the other, she reached down to fumble at his belt. He could feel her desire, her need, raw and overwhelming, and it drove all thought of anything else out of his head.

Neither of them heard the intruder arrive. In other circumstances, either of them probably would have heard him stomping through the underbrush on the path to the willow. Certainly, they would have noticed when he swatted its fronds aside with a muttered curse. In this heated moment, however, they noticed nothing, and their first hint that they'd acquired an audience was his bellow of shock and horror. "WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THIS?! YOU BASTARD!"

Instinctively, Harry wrapped his arms around her and twisted, trying to put his own body between her and the perceived threat, but she was having none of that. She wrenched out of his grip with an angry snarl and flung her hand up, and Ron flew backwards with a yelp of surprise that was cut off abruptly when he hit a neighbouring tree with a loud crack.