The First Year

Morning, Noon, and Night

Harry shifted in his sleep, hazily aware of an unfamiliar weight against his chest, and a very familiar scent wreathing his head. He woke up with a start, his arms tightening around Ginny's waist. It was still dark, with no hint of dawn in the skies. He brought his wrist up and squinted at the face of his watch. It was a quarter past three. His feet were strangely numb, and he couldn't figure out why until he realized Ginny was sprawled in his lap, cutting off the circulation to his feet.

He tried to shift her a little, so she sat between his thighs, and not on them, without waking her up. Her skirt was bunched under her knees, so when he eased her off his right leg to the grass, the waistband of her skirt slipped down and the back of her shirt rode up slightly. He glanced down involuntarily and the smudge of black against the glimmer of her ivory-hued skin made his head reel. 'Oh, God...' he breathed. He'd never really given Ginny's knickers much thought before, beyond idle speculation his sixth year when he should have been studying or doing homework. His fingertips traced the line of her skin over the edge of the knickers, curving across her lower back. His hand spread over the expanse of exposed skin, feeling his pulse begin to race. Harry's head dropped against the trunk of the apple tree, and he stared at the stars through the latticework of branches overhead, willing himself to breathe deeply. His fingers closed regretfully around the hem of Ginny's shirt, tugging it gently down as far as he could.

Dawn was breaking when he finally fell asleep once more.

Molly rose early the next morning, just as she did every day. She noted ruefully that she'd put her nightdress on inside out, as she pulled her dressing gown on, and tiptoed down the stairs. They didn't creak, as she stole down the stairs. The charm recognized her, and muted the exaggerated squeaks and screeches that it offered up for the children. On the landing outside Ginny's bedroom, she stopped, frowning. Ginny's bedroom door was open. Ginny never slept with her bedroom door open. Molly pushed the door open wider, and gasped, as Ginny's neatly bed came into view. There was no way Ginny was awake yet. She never made her bed until well after breakfast. Molly turned sharply to Bill's old room, and with a deep breath, pressed her ear to the door. Satisfied at the sounds of silence that met her, she eased the door open a crack, praying she wouldn't interrupt anything. It was one thing to be cognizant of what your son did with his wife. It was quite another to be greeted with it first thing in the morning. They were both wedged into the narrow bed, sound asleep. Molly dashed up the stairs to the second floor, bypassing what had been Fred and George's room, jabbing her wand at the door to Percy's room. The door swung open, revealing Percy sprawled in wild abandon over the bed, while George curled up in a tight ball in a sleeping bag on the floor. She glanced up at the ceiling and climbed the stairs to the attic, waving her wand at Ron's bedroom door. Ron was on his back, his arms and legs at bizarre angles, but the camp bed where Harry had taken to sleeping the past few weeks, was ominously empty, as well. She stumbled quickly down to the ground floor and peered into the sitting room. Charlie was curled on the sofa, the blanket twisted around him, one hand trailing on the floor.

Molly frantically tried to remember if Harry and Ginny had actually come inside the house last night. She remembered Ron coming in with Charlie, George and Percy half-dragging each other up the stairs, Arthur strolling in nonchalantly, giving her a hearty smack on the bum on his way up to bed, then Bill and Fleur glided up to bed before Molly herself had gone to bed. She couldn't remember seeing either Harry or Ginny come inside.

The blood drained from Molly's face. Arthur had confessed a few weeks ago there were still a few Death Eaters who hadn't been captured yet by the Ministry.

The serene morning was shattered by Molly's blood-curdling scream.

Charlie jerked as the ear-piercing screech woke him, and he fell off the sofa, tangled in the blanket, landing on the floor with a thud. 'What the hell, Mum?' he asked sleepily.