Ties in the Soul

Chapter 3

‘You’re that Ginny Weasley, aren’t ya? You’re in the papers, today.’

Bloody brilliant, thought Ginny. That Skeeter whore must have made a story out of her comments and now, just as she wanted to disappear, she was going to be recognised by everyone.

She let none of her concern show on her face.

‘Knockturn Alley, please.’


***


A haggard-feeling Harry bumped into a haggard-looking, but very happy Ron on the upstairs landing of their two-person flat.

‘Morning,’ said Ron.

Harry grunted a good morning.

‘Any idea why my girlfriend jumped into my bed at 4am last night, Potter?’

He ran a hand through his hair, sighing. ‘I had the mother of all rows with Ginny. Hermione was explaining some things to me for five straight hours, over firewhiskey.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Said she was too tired to Apparate home. Sorry.’

Ron beamed. ‘So not complaining, mate.’

The bathroom door, which they were both waiting for, opened. Hermione’s hair was even more bushy in the morning.

‘Ron,’ she said, ‘please don’t make oblique hints about our sex life.’

Harry pushed past her, heading into the bathroom. He wondered if they made bleach for brains.

Half-an-hour later, Ron had cooked up bacon and eggs. The three of them sat around the small kitchen table.

‘What a beautiful morning!’ said Ron, after clearing his plate.

Harry had been toying with a forkful of egg for five minutes. He put the fork back down. ‘You had a good fuck. We get it.’

‘Harry!’ Hermione said, eyeing him sternly.

‘It wasn’t just one,’ replied Ron, looking offended.

‘Ron!’ she shouted, spinning quickly.

Harry tried to repress a laugh.

‘Oh, come on, Hermione – it snapped him out of his sulk. What are you sulking about anyway?’

‘Mainly the fact that girls are bloody mad.’

Hermione put her fork and knife down on her clean plate. ‘If you’d actually listened to what I’d told you at Fortescue’s about being less noble, you know the first time we discussed it, you wouldn’t be in this mess.’

‘You’re all still mad. You preach about equality and that and then toss it out the window when you get to the bedroom.’

With a loud sigh, Hermione crossed her arms. ‘As I explained, Harry, it’s not all girls.’

‘Ron, did you know this?’ Harry said, ignoring her. ‘That some girls actually like being ordered around during sex?’

Ron blinked. ‘Not sure I want to answer that question.’

Hermione’s head sank into her hands.

‘Wait, a second,’ Ron said, turning back to Harry, ‘what does this have to do with Harry and Ginny?’

At that moment, a brown owl came in through the window, dropped off a Daily Prophet and flew out again. Harry and Ron were on the pre-pay scheme, so didn’t have to fish around for change every morning.

‘The paper!’ Hermione said loudly. ‘Boys, I’m impressed. It’s nice to know you’re keeping up with current affairs.’

Ron glanced at her. ‘We do work for the government, you know.’

‘We even get Skeeter’s sorry excuse for a rag.’

‘That weekly newsletter?’ Hermione asked, a scathing tone bored through her words.

After Harry’s victory, the Daily Prophet had sensed the change of political winds and had had their favourite muckraker fired. Rita Skeeter had responded by creating Skeeter’s Digest.

‘Yeah, that’ll be it now.’

The tawny owl dropped it in the centre of the table, where it flopped open.

‘Oh, fuck,’ said Ron.

Harry closed his eyes, hoping the paper would vanish. ‘Why is Ginny’s picture on the front page?’

Hermione picked it up with an air of resignation. ‘I’ll read it… The headline is “Potter’s girlfriend: A Fraud” and then it continues down here… Harry Potter seems to have it all: fame, looks and adoring fans. Yet it emerged last night that his taste in women may be suspect.

‘In a tearful interview, his latest girlfriend, Ginevra Weasley, admitted that her war record was a sham. Built up by the press as a hero and expected to be receiving the Order of Merlin shortly, Ginevra confessed to feeling like a “fraud”.

‘Despite hiding out with relatives for most of the war, Ginevra has enjoyed much of Potter’s fame, attending glittering balls and lapping up the opulent lifestyle. Yet when it comes to the heat of the battle, Ginevra is not as comfortable and she detailed two occasions in which she hid behind more experienced combatants.

‘As readers of the Digest will know, Harry Potter spent much of the previous twelve months undercover with his on-off love interest, Hermione Granger. Rumour has it that Granger, a decorated war veteran, was devastated at being dropped for the more glamorous Weasley…’

Harry took it from her hands and put it down. ‘That’s enough.’

Ron looked up. ‘That bitch will have twisted it, mate.’

‘I know that. I’m not angry. I’m worried about Ginny.’

Hermione nodded. ‘Let’s find her.’


***


Step one: buy a cloak with a hood.

Step two: put it on.

Step three: purchase what she came here for.

Technically, Ginny Weasley was two thirds of the way there, but as she entered Burgin and Borges, a sense of dread began to fill up her stomach. This was it. The simple choice.

To do, or not to.

Of course, for Ginny, that was never really a choice.


***


‘She’s gone,’ said Mrs Weasley, her eyes red with tears. ‘I checked her room as soon as Percy saw the paper. I’m not even sure her bed had been slept in.’

Percy came round the living room table holding up a copy of the Skeeter Digest. ‘Do you know anything about this, Harry?’

‘We had an argument, at the party,’ Harry replied, meeting Percy’s glare gravely. ‘She must have been so upset that she spoke to Skeeter without thinking.’

Mr Weasley spoke up from beside the fireplace. ‘What matters is finding her.’

‘Is her broom still here?’ asked Harry.

He nodded. ‘All of them are.’

‘I’ll check the woods at the back,’ said Ron. ‘She has a few favourite hiding spots.’

Hermione nodded. ‘Good idea. I’m going to try and see if the floo’s been used.’

‘Percy and I will head to the Ministry – see if there was an Apparition from this spot. Will be easy to trace if there was. Molly, can you stay here in case she comes back?’

‘Of course.’

Everyone moved, leaving Harry at a momentary loss. He decided to check the Burrow’s grounds one more time and followed Ron outside.

‘Coin me if you find her,’ said Ron, as he jogged away.

Bright sunlight beamed down on the wonky track that ran away from the Burrow. Harry walked down it, vaguely planning to investigate the paddock. He was anxious to find Ginny, to start trying to fix things, but it was beginning to dawn on him that he had no idea where she would be.

Did he really know her at all?

Hermione had explained a lot of things to him last night. He sort of understood why he’d pissed off Ginny, but it had meant twisting his head around a whole hell of a lot.

Why hadn’t she told him what she wanted?

Okay, what Hermione was talking about was mad, but it was also incredibly hot. He could barely imagine passionate, single-minded Ginny draping herself over his knee, but what he could imagine was more than enough to quicken his pulse.

It was as if every dark impulse in his heart, every animal instinct of lust… as if all that was suddenly good, as if it was positive. Hell, as if it was necessary.

But was it even possible to fix things now? His heart hurt to think of Ginny giving that interview, declaring herself a coward and unworthy. Did that mean it was over? Was that her final message to him?

And none of it mattered at all if he couldn’t find her.

She clearly didn’t want to be followed, so she would have tried to throw them off. She had learnt to Apparate last year, she could have used the Floo and he wouldn’t put it past her to be able to set up a Portkey. All of those could be traced, with time, and Ginny must have known they would try all that.

So surely she would have tried something different. Maybe something too obvious, too low-key.

Harry was at the end of the track now, where it joined the Muggle road.

He grabbed his wand and waved it in the air.

An instant later and a large, unstable, purple bus came lurching out of the distance, speeding at an impossible pace, until it hammered into a quivering stop right next to Harry. An instant after that, the large double door folded up, and Stan Stunpike came bounding out.

‘Welcome to the…. oh, heck! Ernie, you’ll never guess who it is. It’s the second celebrity of the day!’

Harry smiled grimly. The chase had begun.


***


The store was empty on a quiet Friday morning. Their negotiation was private, just the way Ginny preferred.

‘I have one.’

‘It needs to be powerful. Old, if possible. I am not looking for run of the mill, Mr Borges.’

The old man nodded, his pale eyes narrowed. ‘Of course. We do nothing run of the mill at Burgin and Borges.’

‘In that case, we seem to have a deal.’

He quirked his head to one side. ‘I’m afraid there is one very slight complication.’

Ginny crossed her arms. ‘I thought you might find one of those.’

‘I don’t normally deal with minors. Although, it’s possible that an extra security deposit might –’

Her wand moved in a blur. The non-verbal spell struck the shop counter and shattered it in a cloud of sawdust.

‘Does that look like something a minor could do?’

He coughed. ‘My mistake, ma’am. I will package your item immediately.’

‘You are so kind. By the way, I have a decent reparation spell ready if you could give me one further service – a recommendation.’

‘Oh?’

‘I need to rent a quiet room where I can be alone for a while.’

He smiled, yellow teeth shining. ‘I know just the place.’


***


‘Stan, listen to me, you have to tell me where you took her.’

The lanky man smiled back. ‘But you see, Mr Potter, we’re here as a service to wizards and witches in distress. We can’t go giving out their journey details when irked lovers come after them, even if they are celebrities.’

The self-important pillock was enjoying this.

Harry took a step closer to Stan. The bus hadn’t yet moved, they were still parked at the end of the Burrow’s track. ‘I’m not an irked lover. She may be in danger.’

‘No, no, we read the papers – poor girl broke down and wept her heart out to Rita Skeeter – the pressures of living a lie with you.’

Ernie had also appeared, leaning against the first guardrail. ‘If I were you, Harry, I’d have stuck with that Granger gal. You can trust a woman with broad hips.’

‘Bloody hell!’ shouted Harry, a sudden anger breaking through his normal restraint. ‘I cannot believe there are still people stupid enough to swallow the bile that Rita Skeeter spews on a weekly basis.’

‘Now look here, Mr –’

‘No, you’re going to listen to me. I’ve had it with people who don’t think. So I’m going to make you think. Let’s go step by step. You’re stood in front of Harry Potter, a man who has faced Dementors, Basilisks and oh yeah, Lord Voldemort himself.’

Stan and Ernie winced.

‘So why do you think he’s going to stop when he’s faced with Stan Stunpike. Go on, Stan, it’s thinking time. Where’s your answer?’

‘Uhm…’

‘Want some help? Here it is. You tell me where Ginny is or I will rip it out of you, using a wide variety of methods with only one thing in common – they will all hurt.’

Stan’s eyes were wide.

Harry forced his voice calm. ‘Now Stan, you’re lucky, because we’re still thinking. I haven’t drawn my wand. I’m not hurting you. I’m just asking one simple question: where is Ginny Weasley?’

‘Uh, we dropped her off at Knockturn Alley, didn’t we, Ern?’

Ernie nodded vigorously.

‘Thank you for your help.’


***


Ginny had never met a woman who smoked cigars before. Luckily, it was a short meeting. Mrs Moffledeck ushered her up the narrow stairs – which were made more difficult by the large suitcase Ginny carried – and into a tiny double bedroom that stank of alcohol and sex.

Mrs Moffledeck took the last of Ginny’s money, once she’d fished it out of her jean pocket.

‘You know, I can arrange a man, if you want,’ Mrs Moffledeck said, an odd look of pity visible through the cigar smoke.

‘So can I,’ said Ginny, once the woman had gone.

She shut the door. And double-bolted it.

The bed was hard. She sat on it, staring at the suitcase. She knew, without shadow of a doubt, what would happen when she opened it. It had always been him – from age eleven – every second of every day.

As if sensing her emotions, the suitcase shook.

She could still back out. This one was old. That it would fuck her up was certain, but it might even kill her. Her death might be hiding behind the black leather. Yet she knew there was no choice. She had to face this, had to feel it.

He was in her soul. He was what she feared the most and what she most needed.

Slowly, she took out her wand. The ash felt cool in her hands, but it warmed as a spell built up inside the wood.

‘Alohamora!’

She carefully put the ash wand down on the bed.

Then she stood, empty-handed, as the boggart stepped out of the suitcase. It was a young man: tall, beautiful. His deep, black eyes gazed at her, recognising her in ways she had only ever been recognised by him.

‘Ginevra,’ he whispered.

Her answer leapt to her lips. ‘Tom.’

‘You look so strong, so beautiful.’ He stepped toward her and touched her face. ‘Now kneel, my Ginny, kneel like that obedient girl we knew so many years ago.’

She was ready. She held her head high. ‘Make me.’

He laughed and she could see the relish in his eyes, the sure knowledge of how this ended.

Ginny had found a fight worthy of herself.

And with it she had found her final defeat.

---


Author's Note: This is my first attempt at adult fanfiction. I'm up to chapter five and the story is going in very odd directions. Now looks like it might be a seven chapter story.

Salon_Kitty - thanks so much for your incredibly kind reviews. I hope this way of resurrecting Tom doesn't disappoint. Totally agree on being underwhelmed with JK Rowling's Ginny. Her dark side and the consequences of the chamber are such a treasure trove of issues.