Forced to Love by Nephthys Moon

Chapter 8 - Here Comes the Bride

Harry sat in a dark corner of the Three Broomsticks with Ron. After winning the Trial yesterday, he’d searched for his newly restored friend. For that was what had happened: Ron had been waiting on Harry’s doorstep when he’d returned from the Ministry after asking Percy for two favours. The first, keeping Harry’s Contract until the final day of submissions, was really just an exchange – payment for the silence Harry had kept for many years. The second had, of course, been the recommendation for the job at the Ministry. Harry knew that Percy would call in the second favour one day.

Ron had been in shambles that afternoon. He’d made Harry tell his own version of the events that transpired that night. Then, he’d explained the argument with Hermione. Harry had apologised for contacting her for help and, consequentially, being the cause of their break-up.

“Why did you come here?” Harry couldn’t help asking.

“Because she’s right, as usual,” Ron had grumbled.

Ron had moved in, helping Harry regain his sanity. While Harry wouldn’t admit that the shadowy outline of Snape still followed him everywhere, Ron’s nearly constant presence had enabled Harry to regain his confidence. He had come to accept the reality of Snape’s death: if he hadn’t killed Snape, Snape would have killed him. Harry had even managed to convince Oliver Wood, Head of the Department for Magical Games and Sports, to offer Ron a ‘real’ job. He was now a professional Quidditch referee. They’d helped each other get through the unpleasant weeks before the Trials.

Now, here they sat and Harry watched as Ron quickly drained his second butterbeer. Reluctant to sound like a hypocrite, he kept his concerns to himself.

“Take care of her,” Ron ordered.

“I will, Ron. I promise.” There was no need for Harry to ask what Ron meant.

Ginny had taken the outcome of the Trial with a characteristically calm demeanour. Harry wasn’t fooled; the blaze in her eyes was one he knew all too well. In Hogwarts days, it had signified her determination to stay by his side regardless of his objections. In the years that followed, it had been a precursor to an argument – and Ginny could argue with the best of them. In fact, Harry wasn’t much looking forward to the one he knew was coming.

“Hey.” Ron jabbed Harry and pointed at the door.

Hermione and Ginny had just walked in and were removing their cloaks. Harry looked around hopefully. He was in luck; there were no empty chairs save for the two at their table. He watched the two women have a brief discussion before wending their way through the labyrinth of tables. They bustled around for a moment before Hermione took the seat next to Harry, leaving Ginny to sit next to her brother.

Harry preferred this arrangement as it allowed him to see Ginny’s face more clearly. An uncomfortably quick round of greetings ensued before silence fell. It was clear that, despite years of friendship, no one could think of a word to say. Ginny finally broke the silence.

“So, who hates the Ministry besides me?”

Harry laughed, as did Ron and Hermione; the tension eased. They sat around the table, much as they had in Hogwarts and after, drinking butterbeer and laughing. Harry was happy to see Ginny smiling; she even tossed a comment or two in his direction. Hermione and Ron were being oddly formal with one another, but he supposed that was only natural – they’d always gotten that way after a row.

Seamus Finnegan sat down in a corner and pulled out a guitar. He’d convinced Parvati to allow him to sing at the pub on weekends. His songs were a mix of traditional Muggle Irish and Scottish folk songs, as well as some rather bawdy pub songs he’d learned from his father. As most of the community had never heard such things before, he was drawing record crowds. People from all over the country came to sing along and drink with him.

By the end of the night, there were more than two dozen butterbeer bottles littering the table. Harry was amazed they’d had so much to drink, but with Seamus singing those absurd songs, it had been impossible to abstain. It had also been the most enjoyable time he’d had in many years. Now, however, Hermione and Ginny were looking tired, and Harry thought of a way to get Ginny alone.

“Ginny, I’ll walk you back to Hogwarts. I’m sure you’ve got a class to teach in the morning,” he offered. It was a testament to how many of those empty bottles were hers when she agreed. They said good-bye to Ron and Hermione and walked out the door. There was a bit of a chill in the air; the sky was clear and the silence of the night enveloped them. Harry offered his arm to Ginny and felt a rush of pleasure when she linked hers through it.

***

Ron stared awkwardly at Hermione. What did he say to the woman he loved after the scene he’d made the day before?

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered.

“For what?” he asked, confusion evident on his face.

“For helping Harry,” she said simply.

“Well, you were right, as usual,” he muttered.

“Will you walk me home?” she asked.

Ron looked up and saw a glow in her eyes he’d never expected to see again. He nodded. They gathered their cloaks and walked out of the pub. He felt her fingers intertwine with his. Startled, he braved another glance at her face.

“I’m not married yet,” she whispered.

He felt his heart leap into his throat. Her house was only a few steps away.

***

Hermione’s heart pounded. Though she wasn’t married now, she would be in a few weeks’ time. She knew she was about to betray nearly every scruple she had, but she didn’t care. For one night, just this one night, she was going to throw logic to the four winds and make love to the man standing beside her. For one night, she would be happy. She knew it would be the last time she’d ever feel joy again.

When they reached the door and Ron tried to disentangle his fingers from hers, she pulled herself to her toes and brushed her lips to his.

***

Ron groaned. They couldn’t do this; it was wrong. When she stepped away and opened the door, he knew he didn’t care. Just this one night, this last time, he would be happy. He would make love to the woman he’d adored for so many years and the devil take the consequences. He stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

***

Ginny was content, for now, to walk quietly with Harry, comforted by the warmth from his arm. She knew it wouldn’t last.

“Harry?” she said quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you do it?” she asked.

“Because I’ve loved you since you were fifteen, maybe even before that, and I couldn’t bear the thought of you marrying anyone else,” he said.

“I won’t do it,” she informed him.

“Why not?” he asked angrily.

“You know why!” she shouted. “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen! I can’t just sweep it under the rug!”

“Haven’t I changed enough for you?” he demanded.

“Tell me, Harry,” she murmured viciously, “Why won’t you look to your left?”

“No reason.”

Ginny could tell he was lying.

“You’re sure?” she taunted. “Because I’d be willing to bet that Snape is glaring at you from right over there!”

“So what if he is?” Harry shouted. “Isn’t it enough that I accept that I had no choice? That I had to kill him before he killed me?”

“That’s something, Harry, but it isn’t enough,” she said sadly.

“Damn it. Why not?” He pulled away from her, stopping just outside the gates of Hogwarts.

“As long as you’re still seeing him beside you, watching you, then you haven’t changed enough for me to trust that you won’t do it again!”

“Fine!” he roared.

Ginny turned, staring at the dark outline of Hogwarts, until she heard his footsteps. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him walking back towards the village.

“Where are you going?” she called.

“What do you care?” he tossed over his shoulder.

“Because, you bastard, I love you!” she shouted at his back.

He turned around to face her. “Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get a bottle before Padma closes for the night.” He glowered at her, daring her to say something.

“But you quit!” she cried.

“Yeah, well, what good did that do me? Good-bye, Ginny,” he shouted. “I’ll see you next weekend at the wedding.”

Sobbing, Ginny made her way back to her study, praying none of the students would see her in such a state.

***

Hermione dressed slowly the day of Ginny’s wedding. She and Ron hadn’t been satisfied with just the one night; they’d been together every night since. He was snoring in her bed as she picked her robes.

“Ron, wake up! Viktor will be here any moment to escort me to the wedding and your sister expected you there an hour ago!” she urged.

“Ruddy prat and his stupid beach ball head,” Ron muttered. Hermione hid a grin, but quickly sobered. Harry hadn’t showed up for work on Monday, and when he’d arrived on Tuesday, his eyes had been bloodshot. Hermione had asked Ginny what had happened, the younger woman sobbed and confessed the entire conversation. It was barbaric that the Ministry would do this, but it didn’t surprise Hermione much.

The final Trials had been held the day before, and the arranged marriages would be settled by the end of the week. The Ministry was now batting around an idea to ban women from professional sports. The whole thing was getting out of hand. The thought made Hermione shiver. Something had to happen, and soon, to make the Ministry see reason.

Ron stumbled out of bed, trying to find the robes he’d discarded the night before in his haste, when suddenly, the doorbell rang. Hermione jumped, and Ron abandoned the search and Disapparated, completely naked. Hermione giggled, running downstairs to answer the door.

***

Ginny stood in front of the mirror in her childhood bedroom. Her robes were white, as befitted a bride, and so light they were nearly transparent. Her hair was curled elaborately and pinned to the crown of her head with Auntie Muriel’s tiara. A tear ran down her cheek. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Hermione handed her a handkerchief and smiled reassuringly.

“You look lovely,” she whispered. “I know this isn’t what you want, but you’ve got to try to make it work.”

Hermione’s voice held the regret Ginny felt. She was envious of the glow on her best friend’s cheeks. Though the entire village of Hogsmeade knew where her brother was spending his nights, it seemed Viktor had remained oblivious. Ginny had suggested that Hermione tell him, hoping it would make him reconsider the marriage, but Hermione disagreed.

Charlie entered the room and told his baby sister, “It’s time to go, Ginny.”

She knew it would take all of his considerable strength to keep from hurting Harry. As the oldest remaining male member of the Weasley family, Charlie was escorting her. Ron would be escorting Hermione. Percy and the twins were already in the garden, and Ron would be at the bottom of the stairs waiting. Bill hadn’t survived the war, but Ginny knew Fleur would be there. Age had softened her, and Ginny had actually grown rather fond of her sister-in-law. Giving Charlie a quick hug, she led the group down the stairs.

***

Percy sat with the small band of guests. It was nearly all family, save for Remus and Tonks. Though her surname was now Lupin, she couldn’t be called anything else. They’d tried Dora, Mrs. Lupin and her full first name, Nymphadora, but nothing stuck. Tonks she’d been and Tonks she’d remain. Luckily, Remus didn’t seem to mind.

Percy glanced irritably around the garden. Though he was injured more in pride than in heart by his failure to secure Hermione’s hand the previous week, he was still peeved at the world. Due to his position, he could select a bride from the remains of the Contracts, but he couldn’t decide who it should be. He knew he could have trusted Hermione to keep his secret, but he wasn’t sure about anyone else. A wife would figure it out, of course; she was bound to notice her husband’s odd appearances and his lack of presence in the marital bed.

For Percy knew he was in love, and had been for several years, but the nature of his love would shame his family. Nevertheless, he’d arranged another visit to Azkaban for that very afternoon. He was desperate to see his love again. Percy didn’t care about former Death Eater status, he loved Draco.

Not that Draco returned his affection – far from it. But it satisfied the darkest part of Percy’s soul to hear the younger man’s whimpers of pain as he took him. Hermione wouldn’t have told a soul, but someone else might, and the penalty for his actions was the Dementor’s Kiss.

***

Harry watched Ginny walking towards him, her eyes cold, and felt the bitterness consume him. He pushed it aside. He was determined to win her; he knew her weaknesses. All he had left to do was exploit them.

***

Hermione stood with Viktor after the ceremony. She graciously accepted the inquiries into her own wedding plans, but her eyes hungrily sought Ron’s in the bustle.

“Herm-own-ninny?” Viktor’s voice broke into her thoughts. Her amusement at his inability to pronounce her name had long since worn off, to be replaced by annoyance.

“Yes,” she replied, not bothering to hide her irritation, or to even look at him.

“I vould very much like to spend the night vith you,” he whispered in what she assumed he thought was a seductive manner.

Reluctant to cause a scene, Hermione looked at him and said very quietly, “You may have won my hand, but that is the only part of me you’ll ever possess.” She pulled away from him and joined the short line queuing up to kiss the bride.

***

Viktor watched her walk away with anger. It seemed that Weasley would continue to be a problem. He’d ignored the fact that they were still lovers, assuming Hermione would change her mind once they were married. Now, he knew he had no choice. He’d have to kill the bastard after all.

***

Ginny entered the house in Godric’s Hollow apprehensively. Dobby had returned from her family home when Harry had stopped drinking, and he now had a fire in the grate with two glasses of elf-made wine on the little table between the plush armchairs. Everything was exactly as it had been so many times before. For a moment, Ginny wondered if the only thing that was different was her, but then she saw the empty shelf whichshelf, which had once been home to Harry’s bottles.

“Sit, you must be exhausted,” came a husky voice behind her.

She wasn’t certain if the chills it raised were fear or another, more terrifying, emotion. She ignored them and walked to ‘her’ chair. Harry followed, as she’d known he would.

“I’m sorry it had to be this way,” he whispered. When she didn’t answer, he continued. “I’m leaving tomorrow for an assignment and I won’t be back for a few weeks. I’m going to bed.”

Ginny sighed in relief. He would honour her wishes then. The thought was barely finished when he stood and leaned over her chair. He whispered something into her hair and dropped to his knees before her. He gently lifted her leg and planted a gentle kiss on her ankle. When she pulled away, he stood, sneering.

“You do know, don’t you, that I could take you right now, whether you wanted it or not. It’s a husband’s right.”

His eyes were empty as he stared at her, and Ginny recoiled in fear.

“I won’t, though,” he added. “I’ll wait until you ask me to. Until you beg me the way you used to,” he whispered, leaning down, his breath hot against her ear. “Do you remember those nights, Ginny? Do you remember the games we used to play until you were panting…gasping…begging?” his voice trailed off.

“Don’t,” she murmured.

“You used to moan my name, begging me to make love to you,” he said softly, licking the side of her neck just below her ear.

Tears forming, she placed her hands on his chest. His eyes lit with satisfaction and he covered one of her hands with his own.

“That’s the way sweetheart,” he whispered encouragingly.

Ginny simultaneously shoved and stood, knocking him backwards. “Never again,” she said shakily and hastened to her room.

***

Harry sat alone in the drawing room. The fire had long since died and the room was overwhelmed with darkness. It suited Harry. He’d summoned Dobby after Ginny had returned to Hogwarts on her wedding night and demanded a bottle of firewhiskey. As he sat in the dark, he realised he had no one to blame for his lot; even Snape had finally deserted him. Towards the end of the bottle, he decided there was someone to blame after all – it was the fault of his beloved wife that he was back where he’d begun. And he started to plan.

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