Variations on a Theme: Five Ways Ginny Weasley Never Hunted Horcruxes.

Enough by aibhinn
Contusion by poseida9
Helping Destiny by r_becca
Undeliverable by maegunnbatt
True Love's Kiss and All That by pocketfullof
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I can't believe how excited I am about this. It's been in the works for months and months.

Title: "True Love's Kiss and All That." Summary: Ginny will do whatever it takes to ensure Harry's happiness. Word Count: 3700 Notes: Thanks first of all to poseida9 for the wonderful beta. *hugs you*. Thanks to the lovery r_becca for the fabby idea. And thank you to all the talented ladies who participated. Seriously, go read their stories. These are some of the best writers H/G has to offer!

Angst ahead. You have been warned.



True Love’s Kiss and All That


Blood stains her hands red, always red now. She walks with a purpose, and veers left to the wall to paint the words he’s instructed, and she knows that by morning, she will forget. She will fret and she will cry, and she will sleep away her memories, until only the red remains.

*

“All right, Ginny?” Neville asked, his voice jerking Ginny out of her daze. She glanced up from the sentence she had reread for the fourth time to see that Neville, his pale face pinched and hollow in the dying November light, was watching her cautiously. Luna stood beside him; her robes were hanging limply off her thin body, and her long blond hair was caught in a bow made of chocolate frog wrapping foils. Dust swirled around them both, dancing in the beam of cold light spilling in from the high window to the left of the table.

“Of course she’s not all right,” Luna said, taking the seat opposite Ginny and flipping open a slim tome on the properties of flight charms. “She misses Harry.”

“What?” Ginny started, looking away from Luna to find Neville still standing, studying her shrewdly. “No, I’m fine, really,” she swiftly answered. “Just thinking.”

“You look a little distracted,” Neville said, just as Luna pointed out, “You don’t really look fine.”

Ginny forced a smile. “Neville, sit down,” she instructed. “And don’t worry about me. I’m just being silly.”

Reluctantly, Neville took a seat next to Luna and pulled his black knapsack onto his lap. While he searched inside, looking for something he’d no doubt left in his dormitory, Luna pronounced, “Being silly is often a good thing. It helps circulation.”

“I wonder why my hands are always cold then,” Ginny said with a wry smile. “I find myself being silly far more often than usual lately.”

“Silly over what?” Neville asked, looking up from his search.

Ginny glanced around the library. What few students were left at Hogwarts rarely found it important to spend any time in the musty room. The hollowed-out corridors were full of unfamiliar shadows and ominous sounds. Most students seldom ventured outside of their brightly lit common rooms that, if they were anything like Gryffindor, were spiked with sharp, brittle laughter. Ginny found it hard to stay sequestered inside, and found herself, along with Neville and Luna, often alone in the library with Miss Pince and shelves of yellowing books as their only companions.

“It’s just,” she said slowly, lowering her voice despite the empty tables around her, “I’ve been having these dreams about…about my first year. I have them every night, sometimes more than once, and I can’t seem to stop them.”

“What are they like?” Neville said.

Ginny shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter,” she quickly answered, fidgeting with the self-inking quill in her hand.

“Dreams can be very important.” Luna looked up from her book to meet Ginny’s eyes. “You should listen if your dreams are trying to talk to you.”

Ginny stared at her. “Okay,” she said, “the dreams, they’re like this….”

*

She sits on the dirty, wet floor, watching the familiar scene play out before her eyes: Tom, his dark eyes full of cruel mirth, wears a familiar locket, and he’s telling Harry all about silly, insipid Ginny and her childish loves, telling him all about his soul that seeped into her and how he’s killing her, even now.

His locket is glowing black. Black like his heart. Black like the drying blood on her hands.

*


“I talked to Daddy about soul magic when I was home on holiday,” Luna told them, “and he didn’t know much. He said there was something called a Pectispactum, which has to do with stealing the soul of someone else and keeping it locked away, and he mentioned a spell, Cenanima, which has to do with eating a soul. He said it was something to do with the magic that forged the Dementors.” She paused. “That’s all he remembered.”

“Gran wouldn’t tell me anything,” Neville said with a dejected look. “Just told me to keep up with my studies, and not to worry about complicated soul magic.”

“I couldn’t get anything out of my parents, either,” Ginny said, unwilling to think long on the funeral-like gloom that had descended over the Burrow when it had become clear that Harry, Ron and Hermione would not join them for their Christmas celebration – if one could call that pitiful dinner a celebration. She looked out of the window to her right. Beyond the transparent reflections of Luna, Neville and herself, the stars were hidden by a dark mantle of clouds.

“It’s worth a shot looking up your father’s suggestions, I guess,” Ginny said, turning back to the fire-lit library.

“Oh, I already did.” Luna frowned and pulled a sheet of parchment out of her knapsack. The top of two neatly drawn columns were each labeled in her small, slanted script. Nothing was written beneath the words Cenanima and Pectispactum. “Or I tried to,” she said. “I couldn’t find anything.”

Neville let out a frustrated sigh and Ginny felt her heart sink. “I dunno.” She echoed Neville’s sigh, watching the quill in Luna’s hand leak onto the blank piece of parchment before her. “Maybe this is a waste of time.” The room was silent save for the sound of their breathing.

“Or maybe…” Neville said slowly. Ginny looked at him. His eyes were bright. “Maybe we’re not looking in the right place.”


*

Harry holds the fang, his weapon, like a murderer holds a knife. He lifts his arm high, high above his head. He’s poised for a moment, as if uncertain. Ginny’s arms are tired; her body aches and burns. She wants to shout out – to stop him – to tell him that something’s coiling within her, something ugly and serpentine. Her whole body tenses as he strikes, quick and snake-like, with precision, through the diary, through paper and flesh and leather and bone.

And when blood pours out of his mouth, Ginny is not surprised.

*

“Are you certain this is a good idea?” Ginny asked, eyeing the large gargoyle in front of her with anxiety. Twice, she had been inside this office, and in both instances it belonged to a man with laughing eyes and bright robes and long, spindly fingers.

“Can you think of a better solution?” Luna asked.

“What if she doesn’t listen to us? Is this sort of thing even done?”

“It must be,” Neville said. “Why else would they keep them on the walls? But if you think this is a bad idea, we can try and come up with something else.”

“How do we even get in?”

“The Banks of the Lee,” Neville said to the gargoyle, which twisted and turned, and opened to the winding stairway leading up to the headmistress’ office.

“How did you…?”

“She gave it to me at the beginning of the year, in case I wanted to talk with her about… things.” Neville kept his eyes trained on the staircase before them.

Ginny nodded, though she knew he couldn’t see. “Oh.”

Luna had already stepped into the shadowed stairway. Ginny watched Neville follow before she began the climb as well.

McGonagall opened the door at their knock; her hair was swept up in its familiar bun, and her robes were crisp and clean. She had violet circles under her surprised eyes.

“Longbottom,” she said, nodding to each in turn, “Miss Weasley, Miss Lovegood, to what do I owe this visit?”

Her tired eyes rested on Ginny. “Well, you, see Profess – er, Headmistress…” Ginny took a deep breath, as if before the plunge. “We’d like to speak with Professor Dumbledore.”

*

Tom’s laughter is like February wind, cold and dry, and it freezes all that it touches. He’s laughing now, in her head, always laughing. Wound around Ginny’s ring finger is something metallic and hard. She glances down. A locket, its circular pendant glued shut, rests in her palm; it burns and hums. Harry sits in a corner of the underground cavern, his face to the wall, and it seems to Ginny that he’s trying to claw his way out, even as blood spreads in a sticky, oozy patch along the back of his shirt. She bends down to retrieve the forgotten Basilisk fang that was – only moments ago, she is sure - run viscously through the diary. She lets the locket fall to the floor. It splashes in the murky pool of water beneath her, and lies glinting at her feet. Without hesitation, she bends and plunges the fang through the locket; it melts as if yielding to a metal smith’s fire.

The laughter in her head has turned to screams; she can’t decide if they’re Tom’s or Harry’s.



*

“I think this could work,” Ginny exclaimed, grinning at Luna and Neville. “I really think it could.” She glanced around the transformed Room of Requirement. Stacks and stacks of books soared above their heads. Potions’ bottles, mounds of jewels, broken clocks and other gadgets lay littered around the room. It was a veritable treasure trove of illicit magical products and forbidden knowledge. She held an open book on her lap. Familiar, straight handwriting covered its yellowing pages. The writing never changed. It stayed small and precise from cover to leather-bound cover.

She felt a twinge of fear at the sight, but pushed it away, determined to scour the book as many times as needed.

“Dumbledore’s portrait is almost as much of a genius as Dumbledore himself,” Neville said, sounding impressed. He too held a book open. Its title, The Spirit of Soul Magic, was hidden in his lap. “Although, he did seem disappointed that he couldn’t have a lemon drop with us.”

“It was a good idea to go talk to him.” Luna smiled at Neville, who blushed and looked back down at his lap. “We’d be nowhere otherwise. I wonder why Daddy didn’t mention anything about Horcruxes.”

“I don’t think many people other than Professor Dumbledore and Professor Slughorn know about them,” Ginny surmised. “I guess it’s also a good thing Slughorn is still here this year.”

“You mean it’s a good thing you’re one of his favorite students, who also happens to have connections to Harry Potter,” Neville corrected lightly.

Ginny ducked her head, pretending to read the journal before her, as she felt twin stakes of anxiety and elation pierce her. For the first time in months, she felt useful… needed. It was a brilliant feeling, but there would undoubtedly be a price.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had left the burrow over five months ago, leaving only a note addressed to the entire family with the explanation that they had a mission to complete. She wondered if this was how Harry had felt, when he’d left that August morning, discovering that he wasn’t impotent in the fight against Voldemort. Ginny shivered despite the cozy room about her. Impotent after all, although it was likely he didn’t realize it yet.

She stared down at the hated penmanship in her lap. “Luna,” she said after a moment, “what was that spell your dad said they used to create the Dementors?”

*

Harry is beside her, telling her that she must trust him, as he bends to pick up his wand from the floor. He smiles at her, and blood drips off his chin like forgotten tears. Ginny feels choking bile rise in her throat. Harry wears what’s left of the locket around his neck, and a jeweled ring, tarnished and black, on his left hand. A shattered sword, an overturned cup once full of blood, and a ruined set of scales lay scattered around his feet. He holds the destroyed diary in his hand, and his eyes change color rapidly – ice blue, then green, then ice blue again.


*

“I just need to know that you two are behind me completely. I need to know that you’ll be there to…well, worst case scenario, I need to know that you’ll be able to protect Harry.” She took a deep breath. “No matter what the cost.”

“You’re asking an awful lot of us,” Neville said with a look of complete fear directed at her. “I don’t know that I’m…besides, it’s not even legal.”

“Neville,” Ginny pleaded, “please. Everything depends on this. I know you understand how important it is. Think about your parents.”

Neville gave her a hard look before offering a jerky nod, his jaw set. “Okay,” he said, a little reluctantly, “I’m with you.”

“I with you, as well,” Luna said.

Ginny felt a sweeping relief flood her, along with a dizzying fear. “Good,” she quietly answered. “Thank you.”

“But, Ginny, are you certain this is the only way?” Neville had asked the question so many times within the past few weeks that Ginny was becoming annoyed with his fretting eyes and shaking voice. She ignored him, looking past Luna out to the stretch of Hogwarts grounds spread out past the library window. Spring had started. In a few short months, summer would be in full bloom. The thought made her smile.

She turned back to Neville, the smile still on her face. “Yes, Neville, I’m sure,” she said. This must be how Hermione often felt: correct, certain beyond a doubt that she had come up with the best possible solution. “It’ll keep Harry safe, won’t it? Isn’t that the whole point?”

“Well, yeah, that’s the point…or one of them, but, Ginny, that’s not the only point.”

“Of course it’s the only point, Neville,” Ginny swiftly countered. “What other point would there be?”

Neville looked as if he was struggling to say something.

“The other point,” Luna answered for him, looking up from her research and giving Ginny a small, patient smile, “is to keep Harry happy.”

Ginny met Luna’s eyes. “He will be happy, but he needs to stay alive to be happy.”

“He won’t be happy if you’re…when you’re….” Neville’s voice teetered off. For a moment, Ginny thought she heard tears behind his trembling voice.

She looked back out onto the grounds; they looked brighter somehow. “He’ll be happy,” she said again.

*
She sees herself, lying on the ground, hair muddied and wet, skin pale and smooth, as Harry and Tom circle around her: two predators fighting over prey.

“All it takes is a kiss to wake her.” Tom’s soft voice is mocking. It echoes off the damp and moldy walls. “True love’s kiss and all that.” While he speaks, he twirls a wand in pale spider-like hands. Harry glances down. Ginny can see he is hesitant. “Did your worthless Muggle mother kiss you, Harry, before she died for you? Do you think it was worth it?” Tom laughs quietly. “Is sacrifice ever really worth it?”

Harry bends down. She can feel his bitter breath upon her cheek.

*

“They’re here!” someone shouted, and someone else – a first year, from the sound of it – began sobbing earnestly.

“That means Harry will be here shortly as well,” Neville whispered to Luna and Ginny. Outside the castle, shouts and screams could be heard. The smell of burnt flesh filled Ginny’s nostrils; she choked on it. For a month now, reports had been coming in: Harry, like a lion in pursuit of his prey, had been closing in on Voldemort. From what little Ginny heard, she garnered that Ron and Hermione were still with him. For Harry to be so actively in pursuit of Voldemort meant only one thing: he must have discovered what all of the Horcruxes were. The thought left Ginny cold.

“I need to see him,” she said. “I don’t need a lot of time, but I need to see him before he fights Voldemort.”

The sconces flickered on and off three times, and a great swirling vortex opened up in the Great Hall, where all of the students were boarded in like lambs for the slaughter. Another scream arose.

Neville, looking over Ginny’s shoulder, blinked rapidly. “Now’s your chance.”

*

She moves in a dreamy, drifty cloud of water and dirt, and takes the fang out of Harry’s hands – she plunges it deep within him, into his heart, where a locket once lay. It’s done – it’s finished – even as he screams and pain flies up her arms, through her body to her own heart, as if she’s only just stabbed herself.

She can still feel his breath upon her cheek.

*

She examined him from her spot near the wall. He looked so intensely grave that Ginny wanted nothing more than to rush to him immediately. She stayed in her shadowed corner though, watching as his eyes scanned the entrance hall. Her only task at the moment was to kiss him, and once she started she wasn’t certain she’d be able to stop. She recited the incantation silently over and over to herself. She had one chance, she knew, to get this right. One chance to save him.

Ron and Hermione had moved straight for the professors keeping guard over the school while Neville and Luna had both rushed to greet Harry. Ginny watched Harry give them both a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes, his face closed and hard as he shook hands with Neville. Finally, she emerged from her hidden spot. She felt like a pillar of silk, her insides felt hollow and her skin felt cool and smooth. She was calm, she realized, surprisingly peaceful.

Harry turned his head and caught sight of her, and Ginny felt her eyes sting. His pale, thin face opened suddenly, and within seconds he was taking long strides towards her.

He halted, just short of their faces touching. Ginny forgot to breathe.

The distance between them melted into nothing. Just before Ginny pressed her lips against his, she whispered her incantation. His lips were chapped, warm and wet, and they opened almost immediately. His hot tongue pressed into her mouth; he tasted bittersweet, like the aftertaste of sugared coffee and almonds.

When she pulled back, she heard a faint sound, as if a popper had gone off somewhere nearby. Her cheeks were wet and sticky. Though Harry looked no different standing before her, in her stomach, Ginny felt a sick, serpentine coil. It had worked.

Ginny swallowed harshly as she watched Harry raise a thin, trembling hand to his swollen mouth. “Ginny,” he said, his eyes piercingly green, “what was that?” A shout echoed from outside. She had no time to waste.

“Harry, I know what the last Horcrux is. So do you.”

She looked into his resigned eyes. “I know,” he said. “I came to say… well, I wanted to see that you were okay before I…. But what was that, Ginny?” he asked. “It felt like something…like….” He faltered.

Ginny smiled. “It was me saving your life. Now we’re even.”

“Now we’re…even?” His face darkened. “What did you do?”

“I took it away from you.”

“How?”

“A spell.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed. “You’re mad if you think I’m going to let you do what it sounds like you’re suggesting.”

“Now you can win. Before, there was no way you would have been able to. You have to know that. Now you can kill him, be rid of him for good. You have to. You don’t have any choice.”

“Yes, I do,” Harry countered, his eyes moving frantically around the entrance hall. “I’ll surrender. Right now. I’ll tell him it’s over, that I couldn’t find all of his Horcruxes and he wins.” He made as if to turn around and walk right into the battle.

“So it’s okay for you to sacrifice yourself, but not for me too, is that it?” Ginny said crossly, grabbing his bicep.

A muscle in Harry’s jaw twitched as he roughly pulled his arm out of her grasp. “It’s not okay for you to sacrifice yourself at all,” he furiously whispered. “Why do you think I forbid you to come with me in the first place? So you could die for me in the end, just like they did?”

“Harry,” Ginny said quietly, her anger gone in a flash as she watched his eyes fill with tears. “It’s done. You don’t have a choice.”

“I had a choice,” he snarled. “I had a choice before you did that…that spell.”

“And what about my choice?”

“I won't let you hurt yourself for him. This is my fight. And now -”

“It's not only your fight, Harry, it's mine as well,” Ginny said. “How do you think I even know about this? Because he put part of himself – his memories – whatever – inside of me. I have nightmares about him, he took you away from me – don’t’ think for a moment that this is your fight alone. Harry, please,” Ginny pleaded, grabbing desperately at his hand. “You have to let me do this. I couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t do all that I could for you. Please.”

Harry blinked rapidly. “How do you think I’ll feel,” he asked, his voice thick, “knowing that I let you?”


“You’ll feel awful, and you’ll probably hate me, for a while. But you’ll be safe, and I’ll be happy knowing you’re safe.”

The front doors suddenly banged open. The screams of fury and pain that had only moments before been a dull, distant roar were loud and furious. Smoke flooded the hall. In the Great Hall another volley of screams sounded, and shouts, as if the room had been breached.

“Harry,” Ginny said.

He looked at her and nodded. His eyes were glazed over. He looked defeated.

“I think that I, that I…” He stopped and tightened his grip on her hand.

“I know, Harry,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Me too.”

Without a word, he turned and walked to the large double doors leading outside. He looked back one last time, and Ginny took a moment to memorize the shape of his eyes, and the color of his hair. With dry eyes, he gave her a nod and stepped into the sun-filled front lawn of Hogwarts. For a moment, he stood still, his back straight and proud, and Ginny was reminded of a hero. She finally looked away to see Luna and Neville watching. Neville held his wand before him.

Ginny smiled. “I’m ready.”

End