Chapter 14: The DA
The Room of Requirement had provided a familiar training ground: worn mats on the floor, bookshelves stacked with defensive manuals, and targets charmed to dart along the walls. The usual hum of spellwork and chatter filled the air, but Harry moved through it like he was floating. The image of Ginny’s bare chest was a constant film over his vision, a secret warmth in his gut that made the practicing students seem like distant shadows.
He corrected Luna’s Stunning Spell posture with a distracted hand on her shoulder, his mind elsewhere. The need to talk about it, to make it real by saying it out loud, was a pressure in his teeth.
Dean Thomas was practicing a Shield Charm nearby, his brow furrowed in concentration. Harry sidled up to him, lowering his voice beneath the crackle of a nearby Hex-deflection.
“Hey, Dean.”
“Hey, Harry. Think I’ve got this one?”
“Looks solid.” Harry paused, scanning the room. Ginny was across the chamber, helping Neville with his wand angle. She hadn’t looked at him once. The secret burned hotter. He leaned in. “Listen. You and Ginny… you’re still good, yeah?”
Dean smiled, oblivious. “Sure. Why?”
Harry’s grin felt sharp on his face. “Just… saw something. Earlier. In the library.”
“Oh yeah?” Dean kept his shield up, the shimmering barrier wavering slightly.
“Yeah. Your girlfriend.” Harry let the words hang, sticky and deliberate. “Topless. Full view. Fucking spectacular little tits, mate. Perfect.”
Dean’s shield charm flickered and died. He blinked, his easy smile freezing then crumbling. “What?”
“Hermione’s too. Well, one of hers, anyway. Ginny showed hers to make it fair.” Harry nodded, as if recounting a Quidditch play. “Ron was there. All very… educational.”
He clapped a stunned Dean on the back and moved away, the release of saying it making his blood sing. He needed more.
He found Seamus and Lavender Brown in a corner, reviewing a jinx. Lavender giggled at something Seamus said, her hand on his arm.
“Potter!” Seamus greeted. “Tell Lav her Bat-Bogey Hex is still weak.”
“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Harry said, not taking his eyes off Lavender. She preened slightly. He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur meant only for her. “Saw something you’d find interesting, Lavender. About Ron.”
Her eyes lit with immediate, hungry curiosity. “Ron? What about him?”
“In the library. He was there when Ginny decided to get her tits out. Bare. And when Hermione showed one of hers off first.” Harry watched the information detonate behind Lavender’s eyes. “He watched. Didn’t look away once. Guess he’s got a thing for family, huh?”
Lavender’s face flushed a mottled red, her playful demeanor vanishing. “He… Ginny’s his…”
“Sister. Yeah.” Harry shrugged, a cruel, casual gesture. “Didn’t stop him. Or me. But then, I’m not dating anyone.”
He left her sputtering, turning his attention to the room. The secret was out now, a virus in the air. He could see it spreading in hushed tones, in sidelong glances darted toward Ginny and Hermione, who were still unaware. Ron was late. Probably hiding.
The thrill was starting to sour, curdling into something heavier. The looks weren’t of envy, but of confusion and dawning judgment. Parvati whispered to Padma, both girls staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Dean was now talking in low, furious tones to Terry Boot, shooting vicious looks across the room at Ginny, who finally noticed the shift in atmosphere.
Her head came up. She met Dean’s glare, then Parvati’s stare, then Lavender’s tearful, furious gaze. Her eyes tracked the connections back to their source: Harry, standing alone by the bookcase, a defiant, hollow ache in his chest.
She marched across the room. The practiced spells faltered as others stopped to watch.
“What did you do?” Her voice was low, deadly.
“Just sharing the news,” Harry said, his bravado thinning under her fiery scrutiny. “It was a big moment. Hard to keep to myself.”
“You told Dean.” It wasn’t a question.
“He’s your boyfriend. Seems like he should know what his girlfriend’s been showing off.”
The slap cracked through the room like a whip. His head snapped to the side, his cheek burning. Silence fell, absolute and consuming.
Ginny’s breath hissed through her teeth. “You pathetic, twisted little boy.” Every word was a scalpel. “You think that makes you powerful? Telling everyone? It just makes you weak. It makes you nothing.”
Hermione had appeared at her elbow, face pale. “Harry, what have you said?” Her voice trembled, not with anger, but with a deep, shuddering horror. The library, her moment of wild, uncharacteristic abandon, was now public gossip. Her hand rose unconsciously, as if to cover her chest.
“Only the truth!” Harry shouted, the sound too loud in the quiet. The shame was transforming back into anger, a hot, familiar friend. “You both did it! Why’s it my fault for talking about it?”
“Because it was for us!” Ginny shot back. “Not for the whole bloody school! You’ve just… you’ve made it dirty.”
“It was always dirty,” Harry snarled. “You think standing there with your tits out was some noble act? It was because you wanted to. I wanted to see. Ron wanted to see. Don’t pretend it was anything else.”
Hermione flinched as if struck. Ron chose that moment to finally arrive, slinking through the door. He took in the scene—the frozen DA members, his sister’s fury, Hermione’s devastation, Harry’s blazing defiance—and his shoulders slumped in utter defeat.
Lavender launched herself at him. “You let her? You watched your own sister? You pervert!”
Ron tried to stammer a denial, but no sound came out. His eyes met Hermione’s, and the shame there was absolute. She looked away, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek before she turned and fled, pushing past Ron and out the door.
Ginny leaned in close to Harry, so close he could feel her breath. “This war,” she whispered, the words for him alone, “it’s breaking you. And you’re trying to break everything good on your way down. But you won’t break me.”
She turned and walked after Hermione, head high, leaving Harry alone in the center of the room. The excited murmur of gossip began to rise around him, a swarm of insects. He saw the admiration that once filled these meetings was gone, replaced by prurient curiosity and pity. He was no longer their leader. He was a scandal. A story.
He looked at Ron, who was miserably trying to disentangle himself from a sobbing Lavender. He looked at the faces of the DA, all staring at him. He felt the sting on his cheek where Ginny’s hand had landed.
The thrill was gone. Only the hollow ache remained, and the chilling sense that the walls he’d been leaning on had just crumbled to dust, leaving him exposed in a room full of eyes that now saw only the worst parts of him.