The Longest Day

“Harry?” Harry stopped on his way to the fireplace and turned to find Lavender standing in the kitchen, wringing her hands nervously. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Harry glanced at his watch, which read a little after two-thirty. The twins had left before him, taking Luna’s owl Dogberry to send off to Ginny. “I suppose. What is it?”

“Well,” Lavender said tentatively, “I was wondering…”

“Yeah?”

“Er…” Lavender dropped her voice to almost a whisper, despite the fact that there was no one in hearing range. “Is Hermione doing okay? I mean, with what happened to Ron?”

Harry was shocked that Lavender was asking. “Honestly? No, not really. I don’t think it’s right for me to talk about it, though.”

“Oh please, Harry! I feel so bad about being cold to her…I’m so worried that I’m what she and Ron were fighting about just before the attack!”

“You aren’t,” Harry insisted. “Look, Lavender, I really have to get going. Why don’t you talk to Hermione about it?”

“Oh no, I can’t!” Lavender squeaked. “Hermione hates me!”

“No she doesn’t! Lavender, you roomed with Hermione for six years; did you really get the impression that she’s the sort to hold a grudge?”

“N-no…”

“She doesn’t hate you. Honestly, when you and Ron were, you know, dating, I think she was more upset with Ron.”

Lavender nodded miserably. “I shouldn’t have ever started with Ron. I knew how Hermione felt about him, and really, most of the time I was with him he was clearly distracted. And now he’s in a c-coma, and I’m sure Hermione hates me for k-keeping them apart for so long…”

Harry sighed in exasperation. He walked over to Lavender, placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around; then he frog-marched her to the basement door and pulled it open. “Harry?”

“Hermione does not hate you. Go talk to her now. I’m not having not talking cause trouble in the Army.” And without another word Harry turned back to the fireplace and Flooed out.

Harry came out of the fireplace in the back room of Fred and George’s shop. He pulled his Invisibility Cloak out from his robe and draped it over himself; then he Apparated to the alley beside Honeydukes in Hogsmeade.

Apparating was still new to Harry; he’d gotten his test the day after his birthday, and didn’t use it much. He had to lean against the wall until the slight dizziness and nausea subsided. Thankful he’d thought to put on the cloak before Apparating, he walked around the corner and slipped into Honeydukes right after a few patrons left. It wasn’t very crowded in the sweet shop, so Harry was able to weave his way to the back room without any trouble. He went down the stairs and found the trapdoor the led into the passageway to Hogwarts. Setting a pace for the longish walk, Harry set out.

*****

It had been a solid day and a half of arguing with her mother, and Ginny had finally lost her temper completely. It was bad enough that she’d barely slept a wink for two nights straight – when she’d realized it was because she missed having Harry beside her, she’d cried for hours before exhaustion finally claimed her. Now she was tired, lonely, furious, heartbroken, and thoroughly fed up with her mother’s coddling her like she was a baby.

Not that her father was any better. He was so willing to roll over and allow her mother to do whatever she wanted, even when it was clear he didn’t wholly agree.

“Harry’s in more danger than you could possibly know,” she snapped across the kitchen table at her parents, “and I will be damned if I’ll leave him to face it without me or Ron!”

Mrs. Weasley’s face blanched at Ron’s name. “That should be more than enough reason to stay away from him,” she shot back. “Harry seemed like a nice boy, but…well, he’s too dangerous for you to be around right now. Ron- what happened is just proof of that.”

Ginny didn’t buy that excuse for a second; she knew the real reason her mother wanted Ginny apart from Harry was because she was worried what they might get up to – as if they hadn’t already. And she wasn’t about to allow her mother to use what had happened to Ron as an excuse to keep her from dealing with the bastards that did it. “If it was dad, you’d be right by his bloody side, wouldn’t you?” she asked pointedly.

“I don’t think that’s quite a fair comparison, Ginny,” Molly said in a condescending tone that made Ginny’s jaw clench in fury.

“Why not? Because we haven’t been together for twenty-five years? Because we haven’t got a litter of children? Or is it because we’re not fucking yet? Because if that’s it, I’ve got some news for you!”

And before either of her parents could respond, Ginny tore aside her robes and dropped her knickers, exposing the two-day-old tattoo inked just above her quim. The realistic Firebolt broom in its bed of puffy white clouds stood out dramatically against her pale skin. “Harry was with me when I got this,” Ginny growled. “It was my idea, and it’s not just symbolic!”

Ginny got a lot of satisfaction from the gobsmacked expressions on both her parents’ faces. “How could you, Ginevra?!” Molly shrieked. “How could you do something like that without telling us?”

“Because I’m not a child any more!” Ginny roared. “I’ve faced Death Eaters! I took down Lucius Malfoy; I bloody well killed him myself! I know as well as you what sort of danger we’re all in, AND I WILL NOT BE SHUNTED ASIDE WHILE VOLDEMORT IS KILLING THE PEOPLE I LOVE!”

Both Ginny’s parents flinched noticeably at her use of Voldemort’s name, but she saw dejectedly that her outburst and revelation hadn’t gotten through to them at all. Finally her mother found her voice enough to say “G-go to your room. Now.”

“No.”

“GO!” Molly snapped, and there was an edge of hysteria in her voice. Ginny knew there was no point in arguing any longer; her mother was past the point of reasoning. Worse, Ginny could see the tip of her wand sticking out of her mother’s pocket – she’d had it confiscated the second she’d gotten home and hadn’t been allowed it since.

Her blood boiling, Ginny straightened her clothes, spun on her heel and pounded up the stairs, stormed into her room and slammed the door so hard dust sprinkled down from the ceiling. She then proceeded to destroy every evidence of her parents in her room, from the various gifts they’d given her over the years to all traces of her meddlesome mother’s cleaning.

How can they be so hypocritical? Ginny fumed as she pulled the fur out of a stuffed animal she’d gotten when she was nine. I know they were never like this with any of my brothers! Is it because I’m a girl?

It would serve them right if I just disappeared.

What was even more irritating was that Ginny could disappear. Unbeknownst to anyone but her and Harry, Ginny was fully capable of Apparating. She’d taught herself after listening to Harry, Ron and Hermione discussing it, and practiced until she was as good as anyone. If she wanted, Ginny could vanish from her room and her parents probably wouldn’t even realize for hours.

But she couldn’t. If Ginny vanished, the first thing her parents would assume was that she’d gone to be with Harry. And even though they couldn’t find the House of Black, thanks to the Fidelius Charm, they could report her disappearance to the Ministry. And no matter what Ginny said, she was still sixteen, and her parents still had legal hold over her. If she was caught, she could be sent right back to the Burrow. And a lot of good I could do for the Army if I was stuck in Grimmauld Place, she thought furiously, taking the stuffed animal and pulling so hard she yanked its head off.

After a solid ten minutes of destruction Ginny was still enraged, and sweaty to boot. She stripped down to her knickers, and took off her bra as well before flinging herself down onto her bed with a grunt.

As if everything else wasn’t bad enough, Ginny had another problem; she was horny as hell. A solid week of fulfilling almost every fantasy she’d ever had involving Harry had left her feeling so frustrated she was ready to scream. It had been less than two days since their last shag, but Ginny was almost out of her mind with the desire to have Harry inside her.

Shoving her knickers aside, Ginny reached down until her fingers brushed lightly over her moist outer lips, making her shiver. Thinking how this was the very thing that had gotten her taken away from Harry and the Army, she pressed her fingers down hard and started moving them rapidly back and forth. It would serve mum and dad right if I scream Harry’s name when I come, she thought nastily.

Usually when she masturbated Ginny liked to go slow and make it last, but not this time. She shoved two fingers inside herself, curling them and thrusting them in and out as fast as she could. She used her other hand to start playing with her clit, her fingers blurring as she worked herself closer and closer, faster and faster. Damn them, she thought lividly as her breath got short and her hips arched off the bed, this just isn’t the same with out Harry-

An image of Harry sprang into her mind and she came screaming, not caring if anyone heard, soaking her fingers and digging her nails in around her clit. She collapsed back onto the bed with her skin flushed red, panting. Removing her fingers, she winced a bit at the soreness. All right, no more of that while I’m pissed off or I won’t be able to walk.

As she lay on her bed, slowly regaining her breath, Ginny heard a faint rapping. Leaning up on her elbows, she saw a medium-sized brown-and-white owl tapping at her window. Her hear racing, Ginny leapt up and flung the window open, and the owl flew in and landed on her desk with a soft hoot. Ginny removed the letter it carried, but her heart sank when she realized the handwriting on the envelope wasn’t Harry’s. But when she popped it open, her heart leapt again as she saw the letter was in Harry’s hand! Her first thought was it was foolish for Harry to think her parents wouldn’t have opened her mail, but Harry’s first line answered that concern:

Ginny,

This letter is spelled to look like it’s a casual letter from Luna. Play along; you’re the only one who can read this part.

Ginny tossed herself back down on her bed and read through the letter. When she’d finished, she was so shocked by what she’d read that she had to read it again. After the second time through she sat up and stared at the wall, contemplating Harry’s idea.

It was crazy. It was risky. And Harry had pointed out a few holes in it that he didn’t know how to fix. But it was an idea, and it would get Ginny out from under her parents’ thumb and back to helping the D.A. Ginny thought harder and realized with a start that she knew how to solve each problem Harry had mentioned. The more she thought about it the more she was sure it would work.

But that just brought up bigger problems. It was a fair bet that if they went with it, Ginny’s mum and dad might not speak to them again for ages, maybe forever. They might even see it as a betrayal akin to Percy’s.

But Percy did what he did to further his own selfish ambitions, Ginny told herself. I want to help the D.A. finish Voldemort once and for all. Does that make it better? Will mum and dad care why I did it, or just that I went off behind their backs after they’d forbid me to?

And aren’t I really doing it because I miss Harry so much it burns? Is that any less selfish than Percy?

Ginny stared at the wall, lost in thought, for over an hour. She knew that Fred and George would never turn on her – and Harry and Hermione were part of her family now, no matter what anyone said. But as much as she was enraged and disgusted with them, Ginny didn’t know if she could bear the idea of being estranged from her parents; in spite of their short-sightedness and their refusal to see her as the young woman she was, Ginny loved them and hated to cause them pain.

A soft hooting broke the spell Ginny was under, and she realized she’d left the owl sitting without food or water for a long time. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized, getting up and offering the owl a glass of water she’d brought to her room earlier. “What should I do?” Ginny asked rhetorically as the owl drank gratefully. “I really don’t-”

“Ginny!” Mrs. Weasley burst through the door and pulled up short when she saw Ginny standing in nothing but her knickers. Then she noticed the owl, and her face darkened. “You are not allowed to have post from Harry!” she snapped.

“It’s not from Harry!” Ginny shot back angrily, thrusting the letter into her mother’s hands. “It’s from Luna! I’m not even allowed to have post from my friends now?” she continued sourly as her mother glanced over the letter. “Have you been taking lessons from Umbridge?”

Her mother colored. “Fine,” she said, handing the letter back carelessly and stepping out, “but no sending letters to Harry either!”

“This is Luna’s owl!” Ginny yelled. “I’m not going to send her haring off without Luna’s permission!” She stormed to the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to write a response. Or do you need to dictate what I’m allowed to say?”

Ginny slammed the door in her mother’s face. Then she strode over to her desk and yanked out a fresh parchment. Picking up her quill, she began to write quickly:

Harry,

Let’s do it tonight.

*****

The long walk through the passage gave Harry plenty of time to think about what could go wrong. By the time he reached the secret entrance leading to the castle, he was so nervous he almost gave in and turned around. But his purpose for being there was too important, so instead he pulled out his wand and precious map of Hogwarts. Touching the tip of his wand to the map he muttered “I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” and the spider-webs of ink spread across the parchment until the entire map was revealed.

Quickly scanning over the map, Harry saw a number of familiar names grouped together in the Great Hall: Professor McGonagall, Professor Flitwick, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Mundungus Fletcher, Nymphadora Tonks. There were other names Harry didn’t recognize, but it was clearly a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Harry was pleased to see Tonks and Mundungus there; as much as he felt uncomfortable getting information secretly from the Order, he knew it was too important to let his conscience get in the way.

There were surprisingly few others in the castle; Filch was holed up in his quarters, and Mrs. Norris was with him. After a bit of looking Harry found Hagrid and Mad-Eye Moody together out on the grounds. Fortunately the ghosts showed up on the map, and even better, they seemed to have congregated in a large set of rooms in the dungeon. Even Peeves was there, and apparently behaving himself; it might have had something to do with the Bloody Baron being not ten feet away from him. The only ghost not at the gathering was Moaning Myrtle, still confined to her bathroom.

Seeing his path was clear, Harry pointed his wand and muttered “Dissendium,” and the statue sprang aside to let him through. Still covered in his cloak, Harry hurried through the eerily empty halls until he reached the certain landing he’d sought – the entrance to the Room of Requirement.

Harry really didn’t know if his idea would work; the Room of Requirement seemed more inclined to give a person a place they needed than a thing. But Harry knew firsthand that the Room was also sometimes full of useful items, and he needed something very badly. Walking back and forth in front of where he knew the door was, Harry thought carefully I need some way to help me find Voldemort’s Horcruxes… something that can help me track them down…and a tool I can use to destroy them. Harry concentrated, and in no time at all the door to the room appeared. Taking a deep breath, Harry turned the knob and slipped inside.

The Room was completely barren, the hard stone walls completely undecorated. The only thing in the room was a raised pedestal on a platform in the very center. Harry tensed, tightening his wand in his grip, when he recognized what seemed so familiar. The setting reminded him disturbingly of the cave in which he and Dumbledore had discovered the fake Horcrux.

After a moment in which nothing happened Harry relaxed a bit. Approaching the platform cautiously, he calmed further when he saw there wasn’t a basin on the pedestal; just a flat surface. As he stepped onto the platform Harry found nothing there but a simple slip of parchment. Picking it up, he read the words with confusion blossoming on his face. There were only two words:

Sweet tooth.