I Saw My Lady Weep by Worldmaker

Summary: War takes a toll on everyone involved. Happy endings can be achieved, but never easily, and never quickly, even for those that are heroes.
Rating: R 
Categories: Post-DH/AB
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: In Years To Come
Published: 2008.03.02
Updated: 2009.02.16

Author's Notes: The title of this story comes from "I Saw My Lady Weepe", a poem written sometime between the years 1580 and 1606 by John Dowland, court composer to King James I of England. Originally, it was intended to be accompanied by the lute. All credit for polishing the verbiage and catching my grammatical errors goes to my wonderful beta-reader, Aggiebell.

Chapter 1: It Was Only One Hour Ago...

“Did I dream this belief? Or did I believe this dream?
Now I can find relief… I grieve!”
--Peter Gabriel

Harry Potter clenched his teeth together, fighting to keep the scream in. He sat bolt-upright in bed, his hands reflexively clawing the air in front of him as he grabbed for… something… nothing… whatever it had been, in the fleeting nightmare, it was gone, vanished into the mists of sleep. For a moment he had no idea where he was or how he had got there. The bed was soft and comforting, despite the terror of the dream, and for a moment he was tempted to believe the last year had been nothing but one long, horrifying nightmare.

Every movement he made caused some part of his body to hurt with the deep ache that only true exhaustion and long-term injury could cause. His headache alone would stun any fifteen other people. Absent-mindedly he lifted his right hand to rub at his scar, only stopping himself when he realized the thing felt different under his fingertips.

As he stood, Harry reflected on the fact that every muscle in his body was screaming at him. He could only grin. He’d been in worse pain, but other than when under the Cruciatus, he’d never hurt this much all over at once. He stretched for a moment, trying to soothe the ache; it didn’t work very well, truth be told. But while he was stretching he caught a whiff of his own aroma. He was long overdue for a shower. The watch he’d received on his birthday told him it was early morning… which meant he’d slept for at least twenty-four hours. Possibly more. He was certainly tired enough.

“Hey, Ron…” Harry padded over to Ron’s bed, hoping he wasn’t about to intrude on something intimate. Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had followed him back up to Gryffindor Tower, all the while giving each other sappy looks. While Harry had fallen asleep almost immediately, it was clear that his two friends had other plans; Harry cringed at the thought of catching them in a delicate position. Carefully, he drew back the curtains. “Ron? Hermione?”

The bed was empty. This was unexpected, and for a moment Harry was stumped. A quick check around the room showed that no one else was here. Neville had slept somewhere else, apparently, as had Seamus and Dean. In addition, no one had taken up the chance to sleep in the empty beds. It wasn’t greatly important, but it was puzzling. Undaunted, he searched around, finally pulling a bath towel out of the bottom of Seamus’s trunk. He’d apologize to his roommate later. Right now, he just wanted the shower.

Harry let the hot water cascade over him as long as he could before starting in on the soap. He removed as much dirt and sweat (“Not to mention blood…” Harry thought to himself) as he could. As he stood under the water, allowing it to sluice away the soap and the grime, a procession of faces popped in and out of his thoughts. Some brought him brief moments of happiness. More caused great sorrow. He allowed himself to slide down the tiled wall and sat there, the water pounding over him as he hung his head and cried.

He wasn’t truly sure how long he sat there, but he was amazed that no one had come in to interrupt. Perhaps no one was interested in talking to or seeing him right now, everyone was dead asleep themselves, or someone had left strict instructions that he wasn’t to be disturbed. Out of the three, Harry judged the latter the most likely possibility. He could even see Minerva McGonagall herself issuing orders to that effect.

He toweled himself dry, and then searched around for some clothes to wear. Years of wearing Dudley’s old things had inured him to mismatched sizes. He found a shirt he could fit into in Dean’s trunk, and a pair of pants that were the right size around the waist, but far too long in the leg. Quick transfiguration made them approximately the right size. He slipped on his trainers, forbearing his utterly wretched socks, and made his way out of his dormitory.

When he reached the Gryffindor common room, the first thing he saw were his friends. Ron and Hermione were curled up together on a pile of cushions and pillows built up on the floor in front of the empty fireplace. While the pair themselves were sleeping under a large red-and-gold blanket, their clothing -- and it looked to Harry as if it were all of their clothing -- was folded and stacked neatly in piles next to them. But that wasn’t what shocked him.

Sitting in a chair just front of the portrait-hole, his back to the room and blocking any possible entrance into the tower, was Neville Longbottom. His hand gripped the pommel of Gryffindor’s sword, and its naked blade lay across his lap, ready to be used. It took Harry several long moments to realize that Neville was standing guard; he was making sure that Harry, Ron, and Hermione were safe while they slept.

Harry smiled, wondering how he ever earned such true and devoted friends. He reached the bottom of the stairway before Neville noticed him. The other boy stood and, as Harry approached, extended his hand.

“You did it, Harry. You really did it.” Neville whispered. He shrugged toward the portrait hole, eyeing Ron and Hermione’s sleeping forms all the while. “Come on.”

Harry followed Neville out, only to be shocked again. Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas, Ernie MacMillan, and Michael Corner were all standing outside, obviously alert and on guard, protecting the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. When Harry exited, to a man they stepped forward and greeted him warmly.

“Guys,” Harry began. “You didn’t have to stand guard like this. We would have been fine, yeah?”

Ernie shook his head. “This was Neville’s idea. He thought that if anyone deserved some rest without anyone bothering them, it was you.”

“Not only that, but Death Eaters are still creeping around out there, Harry. Some of them snuck away after you put paid to You-Know-Who… they even caught one hiding in the Charms classroom. We couldn’t let you just fall asleep defenseless now, could we?” Dean interjected. The other young men nodded. “You deserve it, Harry. After you did what you did, it was the least we could do.”

Harry just shook his head, amazed at the attention. “All right, guys… um… I wanted to sneak down to the kitchens, see if I could find something to eat. I’m half-starved. Um… carry on, I suppose.” He paused. “Um… Neville… later on… after I’ve eaten… could we… um… could I have a word with you?”

Neville nodded. Harry could see no trace of the unsure, bumbling boy he had once been in the man Neville was now.

As Harry made his way down to the kitchens, he couldn’t help but stare at the obvious damage the old castle had suffered. Everywhere he looked, there were cracks and chunks taken out of the walls, portraits that had been shattered and burned or simply vanished, suits of armor missing or in pieces. All around him Harry could see dark stains everywhere; he didn’t know if they were scorch marks from spells or already dried bloodstains, or some other, unidentified source.

His heart broke at the sight of it all. This venerable castle had been, for the longest time, the only home he had ever known, and no matter what happened next in his life, he’d always consider the school fondly. It was always the place he knew he could come and be taken in, even at the worst of times.

He approached the hidden door to the kitchens, pausing only to take a quick look into the side door of the Great Hall. Without really knowing that he was going to change them, he altered his plans entirely and stepped through the door.

It took him a minute to take the entire scene in. Various people -- many of whom Harry simply did not recognize -- were milling around the students and teachers from the school. The bodies had been removed and the damage caused by the battle had, mostly, been repaired. There were still great gouges in the walls, but the scorch marks and the blood were gone. McGonagall sat nearby, talking in hurried but hushed tones with Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley. As they noticed Harry’s arrival, they all stood, obviously waiting for him to speak.

He appreciated the implied respect created by such a gesture, but the fact that these three figures of authority were obviously deferring to him bothered him. Shacklebolt was an Auror, and a fairly high-ranking one, and Arthur was as good as a father to him. And McGonagall… If anyone counted as a mentor in his life other than Dumbledore, it was McGonagall.

“I… uh… good morning…” Shacklebolt looked to say something but was obviously hesitant. “Can I do something for you, Mister Shacklebolt?”

Before Shacklebolt could speak, McGonagall interrupted. She sounded curt, but almost apologetic. “Potter… Harry… Auror Shacklebolt has been appointed interim Minister of Magic.”

“Oh.” Harry turned back to the other man. “Is there… um… can I do something for you, Minister?”

“Harry, yes… and please, call me Kingsley. Headmistress McGonagall and Director Weasley here,” Shacklebolt nodded toward Arthur, who looked slightly puzzled at the inclusion of the title, “have been discussing how to properly memorialize the fallen. We’ve decided to inter the honored dead here, where they died defending us all, and we’ll have a mass public ceremony, after the families involved have had a chance to hold private funerals. I would see it as a personal favor if you would speak at the memorial ceremony.”

Harry wasn’t quite ready to deal with funerals or memorials, and it must have shown. He suddenly looked lost and helpless. Arthur leapt to his defense. Placing a gentle hand on Harry’s shoulder, he said “Minister, I’m sure Harry would love to, but for now I think we need to let him recover from his ordeal.”

For his part Shacklebolt had the good grace to look ashamed and sympathetic. “Certainly, Arthur. My fault entirely. I’m sorry… too much too soon and all that rot. I’ll contact you later on this week about reforming the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.” Shacklebolt smiled at Weasley’s confusion. “Good day, Director. Congratulations on the promotion.”

Arthur shook his head, and then returned his attention to the young man before him. “Harry… Harry… Son, come with me. Come on. Let’s sit.” He led Harry over to one of the nearby benches. Arthur stared at Harry for a moment. “Harry… Please be honest with me now. How...”, he let the question hang for a moment. “Is there anything you need to talk about? Anything you just need to let out? I’ll always be there to listen, if you need me to. I hope you know that, Harry. You’re as much a part of my family as any of my own s-sons.”

Harry rubbed his face with both hands and nodded. He understood. But he couldn’t bear to unburden himself on this, the man who was if anyone as close to Harry ever had been to having an actual father. He couldn’t do it, not right now. Later, there would be time for heartfelt talks and soulful encouragement. Just right yet, though, he couldn’t bear to share his emotional burden with a man he loved so much. No… right now, there was only one thing he really needed to say to this man.

“Mister Weasley…”

“Arthur, Harry. Arthur.” The older man patted Harry on the shoulder again and smiled. It wasn’t the man’s usual wide-and-beaming grin, but it got the job done “Who knows… maybe I’ll be ‘dad’ to you someday.”

Harry returned the smile. “I’ll try and remember.” He took a deep breath. “I can’t say how sorry I am about Fred’s death, Mis… Arthur. I am so very sorry. It happened so fast there just wasn’t anything anyone could do…”

“People die in war, Harry. It’s an ugly truth that cannot be escaped. And, I admit, I had more at stake than most people.” Harry gave him a shocked look, to which Mr. Weasley only nodded in response

“Its true, son. Not only was I in the middle of the fight, but so was my wife. And all… ten… of our children were fighting tonight as well. I could have been killed, or Molly.” Harry watched Arthur Weasley take another deep breath. A puzzled expression crossed Harry’s face for a moment. Wait… the Weasley’s only have seven children… no, eight with Fleur. Who…? It took Harry a moment to realize Arthur was including himself and Hermione. The sudden rush of affection he felt for this man, the only real father he’d ever known, made his ears turn pink. He suddenly felt truly honored.

But the older man looked to be on the edge of tears. “I suppose it’s a minor miracle that more of you weren’t hurt. Or killed. But we must carry on, mustn’t we? I once heard a wiser man than myself say that life was just the home we resided in for a little while before moving on to the next great adventure. I believe that this is true, Harry… I earnestly hope that it is…”

Harry nodded, wiping tears from his eyes. “Yeah… it is. Trust me.” Mr. Weasley gave him a strange look. “I’ll tell you, and I’ll tell you soon. But right now… I can’t. Not now. Right now I need to find Ginny. I need to see her. To…”

“Make sure she’s real and that you really made it through alive?” Arthur asked? When Harry hesitated, he continued: “I understand completely. Last I saw, she was over there, at the Slytherin table, talking to Luna Lovegood.”

“I’m just worried she’s going to hate me.” Harry grimaced at the thought. “I know that what I did to her was vile… I just hope she can forgive me for it. I l-love her, sir… she…” He couldn’t continue.

Arthur stood, and gestured to Harry to stand. “You need to tell her that, son. And Harry… let me say this to you as a father to his son, for whom he holds every care and whom he loves more than the entire world… if you hurt my darling girl one more time like you did this summer, I will crucify you. Now… go to her. Tell her what you just told me. In fact, tell her everything. Be honest with her.” 

Harry spotted Ginny amongst a sea of moving figures. Despite the smudges and scratches, despite the obvious exhaustion written on her face, she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met. He walked to her slowly, impeded by the crowd of admirers who couldn’t tell that their statements of congratulations or fawning handshakes were keeping him from what he wanted and needed most in the world.

Ginny stiffened when she noticed his approach. She stood and stared at him as he came close to her, her face blank and empty of all emotion. Since he woke, Harry had imagined this reunion a dozen times, and in none of his imaginings was she cold and aloof. His fear that she had moved on without him resurfaced. But it was too late now. In for a knut, in for a galleon.

When he was but a foot away, he stopped. She raised her hand to his face, caressing it gently. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

“Ginny…” he began. “It’s…”

Then she slapped him.

Chapter 2: It Was All So Different Then...

The sound of her hand hitting his face echoed through the Great Hall and suddenly the place was dead silent.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

All eyes were on Harry and Ginny.

For his part, Harry was shocked. His mouth hung open as he stared into her face. Ginny’s mouth was twisted into a knot, her eyes were glaring… it was obvious that she was very, very angry. He didn’t even try to defend himself when she slapped him again.

The second was a harder and more solid strike than the first, and his glasses went flying. He tasted blood on the corner of his mouth, but still he didn’t move. He deserved this, he thought. Harry had abandoned her, and it was right that Ginny would be furious with him for it.

He braced himself as she raised her arm again, but rather than strike him, she closed her hand on the collar of his shirt and pulled him to her. His mouth was tender from the slaps, but Harry didn’t care. He hugged her to him and returned it with full fervor. She brought her hands up and entangled them in his hair, then kissed him again. After what seemed like eternity, they broke but didn’t separate.

Ginny stared up into his deep green eyes. “Harry, don’t you dare… don’t you ever dare to do that to me again. Don’t you dare…” Her voice broke up into helpless sobs. Harry caught her as her knees buckled. He lifted her easily and carried her over to the bench, and held her while she cried into his chest. He nestled his cheek into her hair and held her, absorbing his sorrow into his own and by this hoping to lessen both.

He opened his eyes, only to be skewered by Luna Lovegood’s stare. The Ravenclaw girl seemed to chew on her bottom lip for a moment. It was clear that she wanted to say something, but she didn’t. She smiled, gently, and Harry watched his spacey but utterly brilliant friend return to as close to normal as she ever could reach. Luna smiled again and nodded.

This wasn’t how he had envisioned their ultimate reunion. In his head, they’d sit and talk. He’d tell her how sorry he was for leaving her, tell her how much he loved her, and tell her how much he needed her. For some reason, he failed to foresee her reaction. Suddenly, on top of feeling sorrowful, he felt idiotic.

Ginny sat up; pulling away from him so she could look Harry in the eyes. Her mouth crinkled as she wiped away the blood on his lip. “Oh, Harry... what did I do… this is all so…”

“Yeah, I know.” He shrugged. He tried to come up with the perfect thing to say at this point, but his thoughts were so utterly muddled. “Look, Ginny… This isn’t how I wanted to… I needed to say…” Ginny put a finger to his lips to silence him.

“I know what you were going to say, Harry.” Ginny smirked at him. “You were going to apologize for things that weren’t you fault. You were going to simultaneously tell me how much you cared about me, while simultaneously justifying your ripping my soul into pieces by reminding me how necessary it was for you to leave me.” Her face hardened with every sentence until it had become rigid.

“And then you were going to somehow justify sneaking out of here and going to V-Vol… to V-Vol… to him because you felt guilty about everything you put everyone through. You…” she stopped, choking on her own words.

Guiltily, Harry stared down at his lap for just a moment, and then with slow movements pulled her hands into his own. Their fingers intertwined, and she gave him a gentle squeeze. He tried to bring her fingers up to his mouth so he could kiss them, but she pulled them away.

Harry looked up into Ginny’s eyes. Her face had softened and the carefully crafted mask of anger slipped just enough for him to see past it. It was plain to Harry that she was angry with him and hurt by him, but in her eyes was also love, and desire, and caring. To the depth of his soul, he understood then just how badly he had hurt her.

Ron and Hermione had both made sure that Harry knew that his actions following Dumbledore’s funeral had been hurtful, but it wasn’t until now that he, himself, felt the pain he had caused. Up until that very moment, he hadn’t ever fully appreciated how tough it was, over the past year, for Ginny to wake up every day and simply live her life.

Looking into her eyes, he finally got it. He finally understood. The long separation had been harder on her than it had been on him. Harry had his mission, and had used the mission to keep moving forward, to keep moving, and to keep his mind off of Ginny. For all that, he’d even had the Marauder’s map… it wasn’t the same as seeing her, but at least he could tell she was safe.

Ginny had nothing but her own remarkable will to keep going, and what little rumor and innuendo she could scrounge from unreliable and dangerous sources.

He wanted to hold her and tell her everything would be all right. He wanted to hold her and tell her that he loved her with all his heart. He wanted to hold her and tell her that he would never, ever leave her again. Harry didn’t move. He said nothing. Rather, he just stood there, watching her work out what she should say next, and what she could say next. Mentally, he backed off. She would, he decided, have all the time she needed to figure out what she wanted from him, if anything.

He was terrified that she would ultimately reject him. But if that was to be his punishment, so be it.

Ginny said nothing. She simply stared into his face. Seconds collided into minutes, and still she said nothing. She simply stared at him with burning intensity. Harry never looked away. His eyes were fixed on her, as hers were fixed on him. And in this way, they spoke volumes to each other. Her eyes would flash with sorrow and pain, then need and love. His would respond with regret and penitence, then care and sympathy.

Finally, she spoke. Only a whisper. “You died. I saw you… You were broken, at his feet, and I knew he had killed you. I knew you were gone.” She swallowed. “”You let me think you were gone.”

He shook his head, trying to deny what she was saying, and without realizing he had done so collapsed to his knees. He cried, silently, convinced that he was unworthy of her. He’d almost killed her out of some stupid sense of protectiveness. His urge to not endanger put her directly into the path of the storm. He’d done this to her. Him. 

Harry felt more than saw Ginny kneel next to him. It was her turn to offer comfort. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled his head to her shoulders, and only then did he start sobbing. Everyone around them turned to look as the sound of his cries echoed around the Great Hall.

Several people tried to approach out of simple concern, but Luna stood to intercept them. She didn’t say a word, but nevertheless made it clear that this was something Harry and Ginny would have to work out between themselves. No one else should try to interfere, because no one else could be to either Harry or Ginny what they were to each other.

When Harry stopped crying, he felt numb all over. He allowed Ginny to lead him back to the bench she had been sitting on. He felt shameful, and refused to meet her eyes. Rather, Harry kept his gaze locked on his own feet. He was aware that Ginny had sat next to him, but didn’t react.

Ginny waited a moment for Harry to move. When he didn’t, she gently brought her hand up to tough his cheek, and then slid her fingers under his chin. Slowly, she lifted Harry’s head up far enough that he was forced to look her in the eyes.

“I thought you were dead, Harry.” Every word was an accusation that cut him to the core. “I thought you were dead.”

She loved him. Harry realized it now. She truly loved him. And the thought of his dying was the worst injury she had suffered the entire year. He had lifted her spirit, and then broke it, by breaking up with her. She had endured danger and torture and threats while at Hogwarts. But what had truly hurt her was the thought that he, Harry Potter, had been killed by Voldemort.

“I love you, Ginny. I’ve loved you for a long time and I’ll go on loving you for a long, long time. I’m sorry I ever hurt you. Sorrier than I can say... Can you forgive me?” Please, he thought… forgive me.

A sole tear escaped the corner of her eye. She looked away from him… she stared upward, not looking at his face and he could see her eyes were glazed. She held her mouth tightly, and didn’t seem to breathe for a long time. It was obvious to Harry that she was doing everything in her power not to start crying again.

“I hate you.” She said it so softly that he could barely hear, but he heard, and for a moment his head swam. He had known this might have happened. He had known that she might reject him. He had known…

“But I love you so much… I love you so much…” she said, still fighting back the tears. “I missed you, you know… I dreamed you came home to me, and held me, and told me that everything would be fine from now on because it was all over and you were mine and we’d be together forever. But you never came and you never came and….” She finally looked him in the eye. “I love you so much; the thought of not loving you hurts.”

Instinctively, Harry reached out and pulled her toward him. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him toward her in return. Neither said a word; they simply held each other as tightly as they could. The strength of their embrace taped off, but still they held each other. Harry lost track of all time; when Ginny finally pulled away he had no idea if the hug had been for mere seconds, or minutes, or even hours. It didn’t matter. He’d hold her for a million years if she’d let him.

Finally, Ginny pulled away. Her eyes met his and held them. Smiling, she said “Thank you. I do love you.” And kissed him on the cheek. He smiled and nodded in return. When he absently tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear, she caught his hand and held it to her face.

“I can’t imagine what you went through this year, Harry. I don’t think it’s been any easier on you than it’s been on me. I know you did everything that you did with good intentions…”

He made a strange sound, a mix between a laugh and a sob. “Yeah. My Aunt Petunia made sure I knew which road was paved with good intentions.” He sobered. “I truly am sorry, Ginny.”

“Good.” Her smile was tinged with something unpleasant. “You should be sorry.” Her face went wide. The venom in her response had shocked her, being harsher than she intended.

Harry sighed. “Its okay, Ginny. I know I deserve it. You are the one person I never should have hurt, and you are the one person I hurt most in the world. There is no excuse I can make, no justification I could possibly present, that makes up for how I treated you. There is no defense for my actions.”

Ginny’s eyes narrowed. “Try anyway.” It was clear that she wanted some reason to believe that he had done what had been done for the best of reasons. She wanted an explanation. She needed an explanation.

“Voldemo… Riddle… Tom Riddle couldn’t die. He made… Ginny, do you know what a Horcrux is?” He shook his head at how stupid that question was. “No… of course you don’t. It’s the darkest magic imaginable. Far darker than the Killing Curse. Far darker.” He paused, wondering how to begin.

“A Horcrux is a piece of a person’s soul, you see. It’s a piece of a person’s soul that’s been removed from their body and imbedded into another creature or into an object. And it takes a murder to create one”

Ginny looked thoughtful. “Why would a person want to break off pieces of their soul?”

Harry looked her carefully in the eye, willing her to understand. “Because as long as a person’s Horcrux exists, that person cannot truly die.”

Realization lit up Ginny’s face. “And V-Vol… Riddle had a Horcrux?”

“No… he had seven…. Well… by the time Hermione, Ron, and went looking for them -- that was our mission, finding and destroying Riddle’s Horcruxes -- there were only five left. The diary… I’m sure you remember the diary… was one of them.”

Ginny looked horrified. Her mouth opened and closed, but she said nothing. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Harry sighed again. “There’s one thing else I need to tell you, but I can wait. I don’t have to tell you now.”

She shook her head. “No, Harry. You say I need to know this, and I want to know this. I’ll be fine.”

He looked at her uncertainly, and then nodded. “All right. Here goes. I… uh… I was one of Riddle’s Horcruxes.”

Ginny gaped. “What?”

“Yeah… or rather, my scar was. He turned me into a Horcrux the night he murdered my parents. The reason I was a Parselmouth was because I carried his Horcrux. The reason I could see into his mind, and he into mine, was because I was a Horcrux. I never knew, Ginny…”

“But… but… you said that he couldn’t be killed until all the Horcruxes were destroyed. You said that, Harry.” Ginny was getting paler by the second.

“Yes, that’s true. Until they were all destroyed, he was unstoppable.”

“But how did… if it was inside of you, how did… “ Her eyes were so wide now that they threatened to drop out of her skull. She was white as a sheet and he could tell she was barely hanging on. But there was no help for it. She had to know. “Harry… What did you do? Oh Harry, what did you do?”

He could tell that she knew what he was going to say before he said it. “Ginny… in order to destroy the Horcrux that was a part of me… I let him use the Killing Curse on me…”

She turned away from him and threw up what little she had eaten that morning.

Chapter 3: There's Nothing Yet Has Really Sunk In...

Harry quickly moved to support Ginny. With one hand he made sure she wasn’t about to slide off the bench on they were sitting. With the other, he gently held her hair back out of the way. When the convulsions and dry heaves were over, Harry rubbed her back, gently, as she collected herself. He looked around at the table, but didn’t see any…

Out of nowhere, Luna, still acting as the guardian for the pair, conjured a water goblet in front of him. He nodded a thank you and handed it to Ginny. “Here. Swish around… it’ll get the taste out of your mouth.” Her eyes closed, Ginny only nodded and did what she was told. Harry continued to rub her back, gently and lovingly, until she recovered. She sat up, but wouldn’t look directly at him.

It was clear she was embarrassed, though to Harry she had absolutely no reason to be. Casually, as if trying to safeguard her dignity, Harry Scourgified away the puddle at her feet, then acted as if it hadn’t happen. “Are you going to be okay, Ginny? Do you need to lie down and rest for a moment?”

Her eyes teared and she wiped them with a sleeve. “You held my hair.”

Harry nodded. “Of course I did.” She sputtered at that point, the build up to what would likely be yet another good cry suddenly defused by the humor of the situation.

“But… you held my hair.” She wiped at her nose vaguely. “Oh, look at me, I’m such a mess. I’m gross… how can you possibly want to be here with someone whose gross. I threw up on you, and I’ve got snot pouring down my nose, and I’m blubbering like…”

Harry put a finger over her mouth, then kissed her. “Think of it this way… Now you know how much I love you. Only someone who really loved you would let you throw up on them, then kiss you when your nose ran.” He picked up a napkin from the table, dabbed it in the water goblet, and proceeded to clean off her face.

“You held my hair.” she said, finally. “I love you, you know.”

He grinned at her. “I know. I love you too. Feel better?”

She grimaced. “No, not really…” She chuckled. “I think it’s going to be a while until I feel better. There’s just too much going on.” She took a deep breath and held it for a moment. “It’s almost like I’m caught in the middle, Harry. So many people have…” She stopped, trying to find the right way to go on. “My brother… “

“Don’t… Ginny, its okay. We’ve got time to work all this out. There’s no rush.” Harry looked around at the rest of the Great Hall. “Your brothers are staring at me. Percy looks like he wants to throttle me with his bare hands right now.” He pointed to where Percy and Bill sat with their father.

Ginny turned to look at her siblings and blushed; Harry found it endearing. She waved and nodded at them, and the two men visibly relaxed. “Don’t worry, Harry… it’s not like they can kill you. They’re just worried about their baby sister.” She turned to face him once more, wiping the last tears from her eyes.

Several seconds passed without either of them saying anything. “Harry”, Ginny finally broke the silence. “I don’t know how to feel. I’m heartbroken about Fred, and Tonks, and Lupin, but I’m happy that you, and Ron, and Hermione are all alive. I don’t know how to feel right now. I feel happy that you’re alive, but pissed off that you didn’t tell me what you were going to do.” Harry could see her anger and sorrow transforming, being replaced with feelings of solace and melancholy.

“Ginny, if I had stopped to talk to you, I never would have been able to do what I absolutely had to do.” Harry held her hands in his and willed her to understand, or if not truly understand at least to accept. “It was the only way to…” He floundered as his words failed him.

“To destroy the Horcrux that was inside of you?” Ginny interjected. “No, Harry… there had to be another way.”

“There wasn’t. I had to let him kill me. And I had to do it willingly, without fear, for the sake of you and Ron and Hermione, and Neville.”

“But it didn’t work. He didn’t kill you. She pulled him into a tight embrace. “You’re alive. You’re here.” She let him go, but kept hold of his hands. “You survived.” She gave his hands a squeeze, as if to reassure herself that he really was there, and to remind him of it as well.

“Yeah… I survived. I had to come back, because you were waiting for me. Nothing will ever keep me from being there for you, ever again. I’ll never, ever leave you.” Harry lifted one of her hands and kissed it, gently.

“Promise?”

Her eyes sparkled with the devotion and yearning she felt for him. For the first time in nearly a year, Harry finally felt safe enough to let his guard down, to no longer keep his emotions in check and to finally allow himself to feel hope. “Yes, Ginny… I promise.”

He leaned in and lost himself in her kiss.

**********

From across the Great Hall, Arthur Weasley watched his daughter kiss the boy… no, he corrected himself, a boy no longer… he watched his daughter kiss the love of her life and sighed. It was difficult for a father to watch his daughter become a woman; it was painful to realize he no longer had a central role in his little girl’s life. But as painful as it was, it was also beautiful; a blessing.

“Our death is not an end if we can live on in our children, and the younger generation. For they are us, our bodies are only the wilted leaved on the tree of life.” Arthur smiled at himself, surprised that he said anything.

Bill looked questioningly at his father, confusion rampantly displayed on his face.

But it was Percy who replied. “Harry and Ginny, Bill. Harry and Ginny. They’ve got it all figured out. Here we all are, all broken and heart-sick over the death of our family and our friends.” Percy gestured, including everyone in the Great Hall. Then he pointed back to Harry and Ginny. “But there… right there… is the beginning of the future. They’re doing it right. They’re carrying on.”

Percy looked at his hands, for a moment. The death of his younger brother had hit him harder than anyone expected. Just when it looked like reconciliation… “That’s what the war was about.” Percy grinned, but it never reached his eyes. “Giving people like Harry and Ginny… or you, for that matter, Bill… you and Fleur… a chance to have a future together.”

Arthur nodded. “Fred would be happy for them, I think.”

Chapter 4: Looks Like It Always Did...

Bill Weasley was silent, watching Harry and Ginny together... “I remember, when she was little, Ginny came up to me once and told me that she knew that I loved my brothers and sister because I gave them all my toys and had to go spend money to get more.”

Percy snorted, trying not to laugh. He wasn’t quite sure that laughter was appropriate. Out of all of his family, only his mother and his brother George were taking Fred’s death as hard as he was. He, too, watched Ginny and Harry reconcile, and it helped lift his spirits, if only somewhat.

The three men sat in silence for several minutes, before Percy spoke up again. “I just remembered a story someone at work told me. A joke. At the time, I didn’t think it was all that funny, but now I can’t get it out of my head.”

Arthur and Bill waited. Then waited a little longer. “Well go on, son… what was the story?” Arthur asked.

Percy never took his eyes from his sister and her boyfriend while he spoke. “This wizard had robbed a jeweler. The Aurors could prove the wizard did it, but they never found the gold and jewels he had stolen. He was convicted anyway and sent to Azkaban for a year. While there, he received a letter from his wife that read “Dear husband, I’ve decided to plant cabbages in the back garden. When would be the best time to plant them?” The wizard sent his wife back a letter that read “Darling wife, don’t dig in the back garden, because that’s where I hid all the treasure I stole.”

Percy coughed into his fist, then resumed. “A week later he receives another letter from his wife that reads “Dear husband, you wouldn’t believe what happened. No more than a day after I got your note, a team of Aurors came, and they dug up the entire back garden.” So the prisoner wrote another letter back: ‘Darling wife… now is the best time to plant the cabbages.”

Bill and Arthur stared at Percy for a moment, and then both burst out laughing. It was a long laugh, and a good laugh. But best of all it was a healing laugh. They were still laughing when Hermione and Ron entered and walked straight toward Ginny and Harry.

Bill’s laugh didn’t die down a whit. “Oh my… I wonder what those two could have been doing that caused them to wear the same clothes as yesterday…” He nudged Percy and waggled his eyebrows. Percy merely shook his head.

Arthur looked agog for a moment, then shook his head and kept laughing.

XxxxxxX

Harry looked up as Ron and Hermione approached. He smiled back at Ginny, and then stood to meet the pair. He looked over to where Luna was sitting and made a “this way” gesture with his head. The Ravenclaw girl, who previously had been dutifully standing guard over Harry and Ginny, thus allowing them some privacy in the middle of a crowd, rose to join them.

“Morning, Harry… Ginny… Good morning, Luna.” Hermione seemed more relaxed than Harry had seen her in close to a year. It was a good look for her. Ron was rubbing off on her.

Harry remembered, during his fourth year, some people actually bought into the Rita Skeeter-created rubbish that Hermione and he were involved. He shook his head, dismissing the notion. Some people were just blind. Or stupid. Or crazy. Hermione was one of his best friends, and as close to a sister as he’d ever have. But it was clear that Fate or Destiny or whatever intended Ron and Hermione to be together just like they intended Harry and Ginny to be together. 

Even so, he couldn’t resist taking the piss out of them. “So what have you two been up to?” Harry held up a hand, “You don’t have to answer that. I see you made it past Neville and the Royal Guard.”

Ron blushed. “Yeah, well… his head was in the right place, anyhow. And Neville swears he didn’t see or hear anything going on while he was guarding the door. Said by the time he and the others got there, we were already asleep.”

“If it were anyone other than Neville…” Luna added, only increasing Ron’s embarrassment. “He’s very discreet. And very brave.” Luna’s smile curled into something entirely different… an expression Harry hadn’t seen on her face before. “And I’m guessing that his stamina will be very impressive too.

Everyone stared at her for a moment. “Luna… are you saying that you want to… um… with Neville?” Ginny looked like she was trying not to giggle.

“I think so, yes. It seems appropriate. He has been so heroic, after all. And the other heroes have all been taken. Luna gestured to indicate Harry and Ron. Harry goggled, unable to think anything coherent to use as a response.

Ginny rose to the occasion. She coughed, then turned to Ron. “Should I even ask what you and Hermione were doing that you had to worry about Neville seeing you doing it?”

Ron laughed uneasily, twice. “No.” His face was suddenly completely blank. “No, I don’t think you should.”

“Likely a good idea, Ronald.” Luna was nothing if supportive. “I think the house elves have finished clearing away most of the debris. And clearing away the bodies, of course. They might be back in the kitchens by now. I wonder if it’s possible to get something to eat.”

“I was about to ask what happened to everybody who… you know…. I didn’t see Professor Lupin or Tonks or F-Fred…” Ron looked around at the Great Hall, spotting his father, Bill, Percy, and the sleeping Fleur, but not his other siblings. “Where’s Mum? Or George and Charlie? And who are all these people?”

“Someone from the Ministry supervised the house elves. They moved V-Voldemort’s body and the bodies of the dead Death Eaters somewhere outside the castle.” Ginny lost her humor. “I heard from some Auror that they’re going to cremate them en masse, seal the ashes into a metal can, weight it down, and drop it into the North Sea. Anyway, they moved all the others… all of us… who fought on our side… out to a tent on the grounds. Mum’s out there with George and Charlie’s watching over them to make sure they’re okay.”

“A tent? That’s not very respectful. Why didn’t they…” Ron was almost snarling.

“None of the classrooms were big enough for all the coffins, except the ones in the dungeons.” Luna explained. “And it would have been horrible to put them down there, I think.”

“Some of these people are with one department of the Ministry of Magic or the other. Others are parents and siblings of students.” Luna continued, intently trying to help. “Of course, some are reporters, though Hagrid did a good job earlier of rushing some of the worst of those from the building. He can be very persuasive when he wants to be, you know.”

She brushed her hair back away from her face. “The rest are students. Even though today is a Friday, I don’t really think there’s going to be much teaching going on. Do you think they’re going to cancel class today, Ginny?” Luna thought about it. “The school administration’s in such a disarray… Hogwarts will need a new headmaster, of course. Not to mention a new teacher for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Muggle Studies. Though I hope they get better ones that the Carrows. I don’t really think they were qualified to teach at all.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Luna.” Ron agreed. He paused for a moment. “Ginny, I think we should go outside and check on Mum. Maybe check on George as well. Say hi to Charlie… make sure everyone’s all right.”

“You should do that, Ronald. I need to go and find my father. I know Daddy’s around here somewhere… I heard him calling for me earlier. And I really do want to get something to eat. Ta.” And with that, Luna disappeared into the crowd.

“Shall we?” Hermione looked the question.

Ron and Ginny both nodded, and together with Harry they headed toward the Entrance Hall and the outside world. As they passed where Arthur, Bill, and Percy sat together, they plainly heard Bill say, laughing, “So the pirate says ‘It just goes to show that booty is only shin deep!”

XxxxxxX

They were on the front lawn when Flitwick came running from the castle, calling out Harry’s name. “Mister Potter… Mister Potter…. oh, good morning Mister Weasley, Miss Weasley, Miss Granger. I’m sorry to bother you all.” The charms professor took in the four young people. “Excuse me, Mister Potter, but a Mister Abelard Price, from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement’s Criminal Confiscation Bureau wishes to speak to you again. I’m afraid I don’t know about what. He’s waiting for you in the castle right now.”

“Um… thank you for the message, professor.” Harry was nonplussed. He motioned toward the distant tent. “Do you think it could wait, though? We were going down to… “

Flitwick’s eyes grew wide. The professor hopped in place and let out an embarrassed squeak. “Oh my… I am very sorry to have bothered you. Please, give my condolences to your family. I’ll tell Mister Price he’ll just have to wait.” Flitwick shook the hands of the young men, and bowed, impressively for someone of his short stature, to the young ladies. He then ran back toward the castle.

The tent was an ivory color, and lacked the flags and pennants that were so common among the other tents Harry had seen wizards use. It was bigger than Harry expected… at least half the length of the Great Hall, and easily as wide. Given the common use of room enlargement charms, the tent’s exterior size gave him the chills. He pictured the tent being both larger on the inside than it was on the outside, and all that extra space filled wall-to-wall with coffins holding the bodies of the fallen.

The reality of the tent calmed him down, but not enough. For the rest of his life, the image of an endlessly long tent filled with thousands upon thousands of coffins would feature in his worst nightmares. The fifty he could see were bad enough. Most had groups of people huddled around them, and each had a wreath.

“So many.” Hermione had tears in her eyes. “Oh, so many…”

Ron hugged her to him from behind. “We can go the moment you need to.” He looked to Harry and Ginny, who agreed. “They’re right over there.” Ron pointed to where a single white-oak coffin lay on a long table. Molly and George Weasley were both slumped together, with Charlie standing behind them for support.

As he moved to join his adopted family, Harry took note of the other people in the tent. Andromeda Tonks sat between two dark cherry-wood coffins, holding a sleeping infant and weeping silently. A man and a woman, dressed in the black clothing Harry associated with Muggle funerals, puzzled Harry until he saw Dennis Creevey next to them. He spotted Lavender Brown’s mother, blank-faced and dry eyed, simply staring at the coffin in front of her. But there were far too many Harry just didn’t recognize.

Molly Weasley stood and met the group as they approached. All four were shocked by her appearance. Her hair was unbrushed and tangled, and her face was puffy and pale. It was obvious that she hadn’t slept since the morning before. The wild fury that had driven her against Bellatrix Lestrange had vanished into thin air, replaced by heartache and loss. Molly pulled Ron and Hermione into as tight as an embrace as she could muster and just stood there, sobbing. Then it was Ginny and Harry’s turn. When it was over, Molly moved back to her seat, pulling Ginny and Hermione with her to help comfort George. Charlie pulled Ron and Harry aside.

“Harry, Ron… thank you for… well… you know. Ending it, finally. Making things safe for everyone. Hermione too, of course. I know she did her part as well.” Not knowing what else to do, but feeling that something else must be done, Charlie shook hands with the two younger men awkwardly, in almost a formal fashion, and then hugged both briefly.

““We’ve sort of been discussing the funeral arrangements for Fred. Mum wants to talk to Dad about it to finalize things, but one thing’s already decided. Molly wants her sons to act as pall bearers.” He turned to Harry specifically. “All of her sons. Do either of you think you’d not be up to doing that? Would it be too hard for you?”

Molly wanted all her sons and specifically included me. Harry thought to himself. It’s not just Arthur, or Ron… it’s the entire family… they all see me as one of them.

Of course he’d do it. “Of course,” said Harry. “I’d be honored.”

XxxxxxX

They remained in the tent for almost an hour, only leaving when Arthur came and convinced Molly and George to come up to the castle and eat something. By then it was deserted of all but the Aurors who stood guard over the fallen.

Harry was surprised to find how hungry he was. Given the emotional currents flowing around him, he had believed he wouldn’t be. But once he sat down with his friends and food appeared before him, it was like Harry hadn’t eaten for days.

“Well you haven’t, have you?” Hermione said when Harry mentioned his hunger. “The last you had a chance to eat was Shell Cottage, before we broke into Gringotts. That was…” she counted in her head, “about seventy hours or so ago.” She reached out with a fork and took several asparagus spears for herself. “It’s a surprise you haven’t fallen over, Harry.”

Harry shrugged in agreement, his mouth too busy with his pork chop to respond.

“Mister Potter… might I join you?” It was McGonagall. When Harry nodded and gestured to the seat next to him, the professor sat and began seeing to her own lunch. “Thank you, Mister Potter. Hello Miss Granger, Mister Weasley, Miss Weasley. I hope you are all well under the circumstances.” Minerva McGonagall smiled greetings at the other Weasleys sitting on their far side.

Harry swallowed, took a sip of pumpkin juice, and cleared his throat. “What can I do for you, Professor?”

“Oh, its all right, Potter. There’s nothing I need to discuss with you right now. You can relax and enjoy your meal.”

“Are you sure, Professor? You seem troubled.” Harry pressed the issue as gently as he could. To Harry, his Transfiguration professor, who had always been to be as solid as oak and as imposing as a lion, suddenly looked old. The late war, especially its final battle, seemed to have driven something out of McGonagall, making her less the bastion of strength she always had been, and more like the elderly woman she actually was.

For the first time, Harry began to wonder just how old Minerva McGonagall really was…

Chapter 5: This Flesh And Bone...

At Harry’s words, McGonagall stopped moving and seemed to stare into nothing. “Yes, Harry, I am very troubled.” The familiarity expressed in her use of Harry’s first name was also bothersome. He’d come to respect her “distant but fair and caring” nature, and its disappearance shocked him. “I do believe my time at Hogwarts will be ending. I just… can’t face it any longer. I will do my duty to my House and to Albus Dumbledore, and lead Hogwarts out of this crisis and on into a brighter day, but then… I do believe I shall retire, Harry.”

Harry looked doubtful. “You’ll forgive me, Professor, but I can’t picture you…”

McGonagall laughed, even as she interrupted him. “You can’t picture me, say, in a back garden, tending to a bed of tulips? I assure you, Mister Potter… I wish to return to my cottage in Milngavie and that exact thing.” She sighed. “I’ve been a teacher here at the school for a long and sometimes painful time… there was nothing else I’ve ever wanted to do. But now, I think, it’s time for me to rest a bit. I’m seventy-three, after all… I’m no spring chicken, anymore.”

She smiled at Harry, sadly. “Now… let’s enjoy a quiet meal together, and talk of more pleasant things.” And with that, she joined them.

XxxxxxX

Harry and Ginny found themselves still sitting with Minerva McGonagall several hours later. Neither of them had ever found much opportunity to speak to their former Head of House on a personal level, and they were finding it quite refreshing.

“I never knew that your younger brother was a squib, Professor,” Harry admitted.

“Of course not, Mister Potter. Though I’ve always been quite fond of you and many of your classmates, I’ve never promoted the sort of familiarity that such knowledge would require,” McGonagall admonished.

“We’ve always been very fond of you too, Professor. Everyone in Gryffindor is,” Ginny said.

McGonagall’s expression became softer and more kindly. “Thank you, Miss Weasley. I truly appreciate that. I’ve always endeavored to give my students the utmost respect, and to encourage them to live up to Gryffindor ideals. It has, I admit, been more difficult with some students than with others.”

“You never had children of your own, did you, Professor?” Harry asked out of nowhere. He suddenly felt concerned for his teacher and mentor.

“No, Mister Potter, I never did.” McGonagall got a far-away look for a moment, and then smiled. “My brother Phorbes did his duty and kept the McGonagall name going. After he immigrated to America, he met a perfectly wonderful young witch. She was Muggle-born, and didn’t care for a moment that her new husband was only a squib.”

McGonagall sipped her tea for a moment. “So I have two nephews and an entire Quidditch team full of grand-nephews and —nieces. I can live vicariously enough through them, I assure you. No… I long ago came to the decision that I was far to dedicated to my work here to have a family of my own. It wouldn’t have been fair to my husband, or any children I might have. Rather, I view all the students in Gryffindor to be my children.”

She carefully held Ginny and Harry in her gaze. “Again, some more than others. Oh my, what is happening here…?” Harry looked in the direction the Professor was staring, and then grinned.

Ginny turned to look, and was surprised and amused by what she saw. Neville Longbottom was… well… striding was the best word for it… out the Great Hall toward the main stairs, the ones leading up to the Gryffindor common room. On his arm floated Luna Lovegood. She seemed to Harry to be a an entirely different girl from one he knew as his friend, and she stared at Neville as if the young Gryffindor was made of pure gold. As the pair passed their table, Luna leaned in and asked something just loud enough for Harry, Ginny, and McGonagall to hear. In response, Neville suddenly became as red as the Gryffindor banner. But he never stopped walking.

Ginny nearly choked on her tea. “Tell me I didn’t just hear Luna Lovegood ask Neville about showing her his sword… Tell me she didn’t actually say that.”

“Well… ahem… I suppose there are certain benefits to being a hero. “ McGonagall blushed. The Professor coughed gently and then immediately changed the subject. “I admit I am prouder of the members of my House now than I have ever been in all my time at Hogwarts. And I admit… some of you have surprised me greatly. I always knew you were intended for greatness, Mister Potter. And knowing your family history, Miss Weasley, I expected nothing less than the nobility and leadership you have shown over the past year.”

McGonagall took a slightly guilty look. “But Mister Longbottom there… “ She shook her head. “Who knew, when he first arrived at this school, a clumsy, pudgy boy who never could get anything right… and he will always be remembered as one of the greatest heroes of this war. I’m afraid to say that I once thought that the Sorting Hat had put him in Gryffindor by mistake…”

“Dumbledore knew. He knew what Neville Longbottom was made of all along. He knew the Hat didn’t make a mistake at all.” Harry admitted. “He told me, at the end of our fifth year…”

“After the fight at the Ministry, you mean?” Ginny asked.

“Yeah, after that fight.” Harry now had the rapt attention of both women. “You see, there was a prophecy… it went ‘The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches, born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies. And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will power the Dark Lord knows not.’ And as it so happened, there were two children born shortly thereafter who qualified”

Harry very pointedly did not mention the rest of the prophecy. There would be lots of time to discuss that with Ginny in private. “Did either of you know that Neville’s just one day older than I am? He was born on July 30th, 1980, I was born on the very next day, July 31st. And both my parents and his ‘defied the Dark Lord’ three separate times. He could have just as easily become the Boy-Who-Lived as I did.”

“So why didn’t he?” Ginny asked. She was bothered by the thought of the prophecy, but couldn’t put her finger on why. “Why was it you and not Neville?”

“Well, according to Dumbledore, it was because Voldemort himself chose me. He ‘marked me as an equal’ by giving me this scar.” Harry answered, holding his bangs up to show his scar.

“Well then… it seems Mister Longbottom was destined for greatness, just as you were Mister Potter. I’ll have you know I’m proud of both of you.” McGonagall assured Harry. “You both performed splendidly.”

Harry didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

The silence threatened to grow uncomfortable for a moment, before Ginny spoke. “Harry, did you know your scar isn’t lightning bolt-shaped any longer? It’s a sort of messy W-shape now.”

“Really?” He asked. Harry brought a hand up and touched his scar. He remembered thinking it felt differently when he woke up that morning, but hadn’t really thought about it again all day. “Er… I suppose that’s from when he hit me with the Killing Curse, out in the forest.”

“Wait… what?” McGonagall was aghast. “Mister Potter, are you telling me you survived the Killing Curse twice?”

Harry nodded, grimly. He knew he’d have to have this conversation, with Ginny at least, sooner or later. He might as well get it over with. “Yeah… you see, Professor, during Voldemort’s cease-fire, I… was… well… Professor Snape provided me with some information as he was dying. He’d been murdered by Voldemort, and as he was dying he passed the knowledge on to me This knowledge let me know what I had to do in order to render Voldemort vulnerable.”

“What do you mean by vulnerable, Mister Potter?” McGonagall looked confused. Slowly, cognizant of the growing look of horror on McGonagall’s face, Harry explained about the Horcruxes, and about the bond of blood between himself and Tom Riddle.

“We… Ron and Hermione and I, I mean, had already destroyed all the other Horcruxes. The only ones left were Voldemort’s snake and my scar. So I knew what I had to do.” Harry sounded much more matter-of-fact than he felt. In truth, thinking of just walking into Voldemort’s camp and to his death still gave him chills.

Harry reached across the table and grasped one of Ginny’s hands. Her eyes had teared-up, and she was shaking in her seat, trying hard not to begin crying again. “Ginny… it's okay. I’m right here, and nothing’s going to take me away from you ever again.”

McGonagall cleared her throat. “But how did you know it would work, Harry?” The familiar manner in which she used his first name was no less shocking to him the second time she did it as the first. “How did you know that the Killing Curse would destroy the Horcrux but not slay you as well?”

Harry was silent. This was going to be the hard part for Ginny, he knew, but it had to be said. “Technically, it did slay me.” Ginny’s eyes went wide and Harry her face turn white as a sheet. “Or perhaps I should say that it came close. I think… I don’t know… it's beginning to get fuzzy, my memory of it… but I had this vision, and Professor Dumbledore was there. And he gave me the choice of coming back and finishing my job.”

He looked Ginny in the eyes and smiled. “But I didn’t come back for that. I came back for you. I had to come back to you, Ginny. I promised you I would.”

“It destroyed the Horcrux in your scar. And then Mister Longbottom… how did Longbottom know to kill Voldemort’s snake? Did you somehow plan it, Mister Potter?” McGonagall looked shocked and amazed.

“Er… sort of… I simply told him that no matter what else, no matter what happened or what he saw or heard, Voldemort’s snake had to die. I told him to kill the snake.” Harry explained. “I trusted he’d get it done; Neville himself arranged the circumstances.”

That caused another long bout of silence. This time, it was uncomfortable and seemed like it would end their conversation. It was once again Ginny who broke the awkwardness that had grown between Harry and McGonagall.

“It will be difficult, thinking of Hogwarts without you being here, Professor.” Ginny took a sip of her tea. “You’re one of its great institutions, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

McGonagall laughed. It was a haunted, almost desperate sound. “I’m not quite old enough to be called an institution. At least I don’t think I am.” She took a long, thoughtful look at the High Table. “I do wish I had never been called to take his place.” Both Ginny and Harry knew precisely of whom the new Headmistress spoke.

Harry, too, was staring at the Headmaster’s chair. Almost a throne, really, Harry thought to himself. “A long time ago, just after my unfortunate encounter with Professor Quirrell, he… Professor Dumbledore, I mean… said something to me I don’t think I’ll ever forget. He said that to the well-organized mind, death was but the next great adventure.”

“I don’t know if anyone would ever call his mind the most organized… he loved mischief too much, I think.” McGonagall smiled, but it was a sad sort of smile. “I always envied his sense of humor, you know.”

Chapter 6: It's Just The Way That You Would 'Tied In...

Ginny could feel the solemnity of the entire situation crowding too far into what was supposed to be a pleasant conversation. “Professor… when you finally do retire, who will you nominate to succeed you as headmaster? Headmistress… oh, you know what I mean.”

“That is an excellent question, Miss Weasley and I have given it some thought. I was originally thinking Professor Slughorn would perform admirably in that capacity, but he’s already informed me of his intention to return to retirement. I dare say he’s earned it. Imagine him, dueling You-Know-Who at his age…” She caught herself, suddenly. “Now that was ridiculous… the man’s dead as Banquo. Why should I be afraid of saying his name now?”

“You’re hardly alone… I’ve heard lots of people say ‘You-Know-Who', and then suddenly change their mind. It’s a hard habit to break.” Ginny was trying to be understanding. McGonagall just smiled in response.

“So since Professor Slughorn is leaving, who else would be a good choice, Professor?” Harry asked.

“Well, barring Professor Slughorn, the obvious choices are Professor Sprout and Professor Flitwick. I’ll ask both of them, of course, but I do think that Professor Sprout is too in love with her greenhouses to move full time into the Headmaster’s office. “ She appeared thoughtful for a moment. “I expect it will be Professor Flitwick.”

“I think that would be excellent,” Harry said. “He’s certainly one of the best teachers at Hogwarts, and I think his becoming headmaster would be brilliant.”

“Well, thank you for that assessment, Mister Potter. I will be sure to pass it on to him,” McGonagall replied. “With your recommendation, he’s sure to get the post.”

Harry looked at Ginny, and they both looked at the absolutely deadpan Minerva McGonagall. Then all three burst out laughing.

An officious-looking wizard strode toward them from behind Ginny. It was clear to Harry that he was nervous about interrupting their conversation. “Excuse me, Mister Potter… sorry to interrupt.”

Harry thought the man didn’t look sorry at all. “Yes, what can I do for you?”

“My name is Abelard Price, Mister Potter. I believe you were informed that I needed to speak to you?” Price nodded to Ginny and McGonagall, then returned his attention to Harry. “In private, please. Its an important Ministry matter. Would you come with me please? It will only take a moment.”

“Er… Fine… certainly, I suppose.” Harry gave Ginny’s hand one last squeeze and stood. “Excuse me, Ginny, Professor… I’ll be right back.”

Harry followed Price out of the Great Hall. He never saw the look that passed between Professor McGonagall and Ginny Weasley. Ginny caught her brother Ron’s attention quickly and motioned in the direction of Harry. Ron looked over, nodded, and then whispered in Hermione’s ear.

Harry’s friends nodded to Ginny, then stood to follow Harry.

XxxxxxX

Price led Harry to an empty classroom. “Please, Mister Potter… go ahead and have a seat. We just have a couple of questions for you.” He gestured to the narrow table that had been set up in the center of the room. Two other people were sitting on the far side, with a chair between them that Harry assumed was Price’s.

His assumption proved correct as Price came around the table and sat. “Please, Mister Potter… Sit. No one’s here to hurt you.”

Harry sat, still not sure what was going on. Before he could ask again, Mister Price began speaking.

“Now, as I said, my name’s Abelard Price, and I’m with the Criminal Confiscation Department. This is Basil Rajapaksa, with the Department of Mysteries.” Price indicated the man to his left. Rajapaksa was short, and bald, and from his skin tone and manner of dress, Harry guessed he was originally from India or perhaps from Pakistan. He wore a pair of very dark glasses that prevented Harry from seeing the man’s eyes.

Price gestured to his left, where a woman who looked about as old as Horace Slughorn sat. She was in dark grey robes, and peered at Harry through very thick glasses. “And this is Marjorie Glide with the Ancient Artifacts Recovery Department.”

Harry grew very still, and the air in the classroom seemed to get very cold. It suddenly occurred to him precisely why these three wanted to talk to him.

“Now, Mister Potter…” Price began to read something from a stack of parchment as he spoke to Harry. “We wanted to ask you some questions regarding certain statements you made during your final duel with You-Know-Who…” He glanced up from his parchment. “Statements that were overheard by over a hundred witnesses.”

Harry remembered what he said clearly enough. “Which statements do you mean?”

Marjorie Glide leaned forward. “You made certain statements regarding the legendary Elder Wand, Mister Potter… statements that made certain persons within the Ministry believe that you were in possession of said Elder Wand.”

“Yes, precisely…” Mister Price interrupted. “We’ve also heard tell that you possess an invisibility cloak of remarkable resilience and power, one that, unlike most objects of its kind, has lost no effectiveness in the many years you’ve possessed it.”

“So?” Harry asked.

“So? So?” Glide was outraged. “Don’t dilly-dally with us, boy. You know very well what we’re asking you about, don’t you. You’ve got two of the three Deathly Hallows. Those are…”

For the first time, Rajapaksa spoke. “No, Madame Glide. He has all three of them. Is this not true, young man?”

Harry looked at the man from the Department of Mysteries. He was probably an Unspeakable, Harry thought. “And what if it is true?”

“I’ll tell you what.” Glide sneered down her nose at Harry. “The Hallows are important magical artifacts that should be studied… much too important to be entrusted to the care of a teenage boy! They aren’t toys for your amusement. And we demand that you turn them over immediately!”

“No,” Harry said. He was acting much calmer than he felt.

“What?” Price looked shocked. “I say, young man, you’ll turn them over to us at once!”

“And if I don’t? What will you do?” As he spoke, Harry thought he felt a pressure in his head… as if someone was reaching into his skull and touching his brain. It was absolutely nothing compared to what Snape had once done to him, and compared to Voldemort it was child’s play. He recognized the Legilimancy for what it was and almost immediately shut it out. Harry turned to Rajapaksa. “Do not do that again.” The man didn’t even look chagrined.

“Mister Potter… if you do not cooperate, steps will have to be taken.” Price puffed himself up. “Give the Hallows up voluntarily, or we will have you placed under arrest. Your home and property will be searched, and we will get the Hallows that way. It's your…”

A loud and angry voice interrupted Price. “Are you lot fucking mental?” Harry spun in his chair, then grinned. Ron and Hermione had followed him. As always, they had his back when it counted.

“This is Harry Potter! Harry! Potter! Perhaps you’ve heard of him?” Ron continued. Rage was pouring off the young man in waves that were tangible to everyone. “He survived the Killing Curse three separate times. He personally dueled that bloody sod Voldemort more times than you can count, including, I might add, the last time when he killed that snake-eyed bastard! And do you really think that the DA would let you do anything to Harry? What in bloody Hell makes you think you can threaten him and then walk out of this castle under your own power?”

Hermione waved Ron to silence, then continued for him. “What Ron is saying, gentlemen, ma’am, is that not only is Harry quite capable of standing up to the three of you, there are at least a hundred people in this castle who would make you regret so much as laying a finger on him. That hundred people, I might add, includes the interim Minister of Magic.”

Harry turned back to the three, a smug look on his face. “You’ll excuse me, Mister Price, if I don’t choose to cooperate with you just now, yeah?”

“You are being foolish, young man. Very foolish indeed.” Madame Glide glared at Harry. “Very foolish indeed.”

“No,” Rajapaksa interrupted. “No, he is not being foolish at all. We are. We come here waving the color of authority in everyone’s faces, and we threaten and bully someone who in truth has little to fear from us in defiance.” The man’s face never changed expression. “And lastly, in our zeal to do our duty to the Ministry and our departments, we did not, as Miss Granger has just so ably pointed out, take into account the political ramifications of our demands, or the extent to which we’d pursue them.”

The Unspeakable motioned to his colleagues. “On behalf of the Ministry, Mister Potter, I’d like to apologize for our arrogant assumptions. Perhaps we can arrange a bit of a compromise.”

Harry was still wary. Ron and Hermione came forward to stand protectively behind him. Ron merely looked grim, on the edge of hexing all three of the government functionaries. As for Hermione, Harry could see that she, too, was angry… but then she’d always been better at reining her anger in than either of her male counterparts.

“What sort of compromise?” It was Hermione who spoke.

“If you have any of the Hallows in your possession at this moment… could we examine them? Quickly?”

Harry shook his head. “No. No, I don’t think so. You see, it’s my ambition to make sure they never come together again, for as long as I can manage it. They’re too dangerous, you see. Too powerful. And in the end, they can’t bring anyone happiness…” He sighed. I’ve already rid myself of the Resurrection Stone. The Elder Wand will be next… I’ll be disposing of it shortly, and trust me; it won’t be in a place that can be got to easily.”

Rajapaksa nodded. “And the cloak?”

“The cloak is a family heirloom. I have a duty to my family to pass it on to my children. And I will.” The steel in Harry’s voice was unmistakable.

Abelard Price looked scandalized, while Madame Glide simply looked insulted. “But… but… artifacts of that nature… of that age… the Ministry has…”

“A great deal to answer for, Mister Price. Especially before its trusted as fully as it was not all that long ago. I might… Might… be willing to talk to you about the Hallows, but I am not letting anyone gather them together ever again.” Harry spoke with a finality that could not be ignored. Ron and Hermione merely nodded, but it was clear that they supported him.

“Very well.” Again, it was Rajapaksa speaking. “Under such circumstances, there is very little left to be said. Good evening, Mister Potter.”

Harry exited the classroom behind Ron and Hermione, still angry over the arrogance of the three Ministry officials. But when he entered the hallway, he was surprised to find a small horde of people waiting. Ernie MacMillan, Hannah Abbott, Michael Corner, Dean Thomas… even Dennis Creevey. It looked to Harry as if most of Dumbledore’s Army were standing in the hall outside of the classroom.

“What’s all this?” Harry was confused.

Hermione stepped forward. “You can all stand down. It was a false alarm. But thanks for coming; it really means a lot.” She turned and smiled at Harry. At his confused look, she held up a single galleon. “I never got rid of mine. Neville said they hadn’t either. I thought… perhaps we might need some help.”

Ron chuckled. “I really love you, you know.”

Hermione just smiled. “I know.”

Chapter 7: Now There's No One Home...

Harry adjusted his dress robes for the ninth time. He hated wearing them in any event, but the reason he was wearing them today just made it that much worse. He glanced over at Ron, who looked equally uncomfortable. At least, Harry thought to himself, they weren’t burgundy with lace… this was… Harry caught himself before he used the word “opportunity”. No one would consider this day as an opportunity for anything. But it was the first time Ron had donned his “new” dress robes since they were purchased for him, way back before their fifth year.

The last three days had alternately flown by and crawled. The same night that the three Ministry functionaries had confronted him, Harry accompanied the entire Weasley family home to the Burrow. The next day the family held a private ceremony, including the planting of a memorial stone in the garden.

It had originally only read Fred Weasley, Beloved Son and Cherished Brother, 1978-1998. When everyone else had gone in, George used his wand to add to the inscription with the words Mischief Managed. Molly had been scandalized, of course, but she was prevented from removing it by none other than Arthur Weasley, who felt the addition was wholly appropriate.

And now, two days later, the day that Harry had been truly dreading had arrived. They were all getting ready for the memorial service at Hogwarts. He had been asked to speak, and as he couldn’t find any reasonable way to refuse, had eventually agreed. But it truly was the last thing in the world that he wanted to do. So now the two men were fidgeting, waiting until they were called down to the rest of the family for the trip to Hogwarts. 

“Bloody hell… they don’t fit anymore.” Ron looked down at himself.

“What? Since last year? You’re telling me you’ve grown since Bill’s wedding?” Harry laughed.

“Prat.” Ron took his wand out and pointed it at himself. “Armarium Apto. There, much better.” He waved his arms around experimentally. “And how are yours, Harry? How are they fitting?”

“They’re a bit tight across the chest, really. Care to help a mate out?” Ron nodded and cast the Fitting Charm again. Harry breathed a bit easier. “Did you hear the news from Padma?”

Ron simply shook his head. “Believe it or not, I haven’t had many chances to talk to her. Come to think of it, the last time I spoke directly to her might have been the Ball… how strange is that? Well, perhaps not so strange, given what happened. I’ve got to apologize for that, next time I see her. Anyway, what was her news?”

“Parvati’s getting out of hospital soon.” Harry said, taking an idle swipe at his hair. “She was touch-and-go there for a while, what with the blood loss. But she’s going to be okay. Or at least Padma said she’d be okay as she could be.”

“She’s a fighter… she’ll make it through. I mean, Mad-Eye Moody did okay with just the one, right?” Ron ran his hands through his hair as he looked into the mirror. “And compared to him, she’s lucky… I mean, she still has both of her eyes…”

“You need a trim, dear.” The mirror chirped at him.

Ron’s mouth twisted in irritation. “I hate talking mirrors,” he said to himself.

“Yeah, but Parvati isn’t Mad-Eye, Ron. I mean, I didn’t treat her any better than you treated Padma that night, but I do remember thinking at one point that she looked very pretty. And she did have nice legs. She’s going to have scars on her scars, now.” Harry finally gave up on his hair and decided he was as ready as he could be.

“She should be proud of them,” Ron stated. Harry was about to reply when Ginny’s voice cut him off.

“So, Harry… should I kill you now out of blind jealousy, or wait until after the memorial? I think I’ll wait… that way you’ll suffer first.” Ginny strode up to him and hugged him from behind. “I’m out of your immediate presence for a couple of hours and you’re thinking about Parvati Patil’s legs.”

Harry turned toward her. “Gin… oh….” He trailed off, staring at her. He suddenly had acquired a very weak and trembly feeling.

Ron turned toward his little sister and stopped dead. His eyes grew very wide. “Ginny… What happened to you?”

Harry saw Ginny suddenly go on the defensive. “Why?” Her face got grim. “Hermione did it… what’s wrong?” She put a hand up to her hair.

Ron looked at Harry, who was still gobsmacked. After what seemed like an eternity, Ron said “Nothing’s wrong… It’s just different. A good different. You look great.”

“Yeah?” She swallowed hard and looked to Harry.

Harry nodded. “Yeah…” He felt out of breath… He literally could not find enough air. Before him stood a beautiful vision, the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. Harry tried to think of something, anything to say, but all he came up with was “Wow.”

Her face lit up. “Thank you.” Ginny smiled and hugged Harry to her. He held her, feeling her warmth against him and taking in her scent and hearing her breathe.

“I love you,” she whispered into his ear.

“I love you too, Ginny. So much,” he whispered back. Harry bent and kissed her on the neck, just below her ear. Then he stood back and took her in again. It occurred to him that he could do just that thing… just watching her stand there and breathe… and never get bored with it. He tilted his head downward and kissed her. It was soft and sweet, and seemed to Harry to last forever.

Ron watched the two of them kiss and smiled. They kept kissing. After a moment, Ron rocked back and forth on his heels and whistled for a moment. He turned toward his Chudley Cannons posters and seemed to study them, then ran a finger across his windowsill. Ron rubbed the dust that accumulated on his finger off on an old t-shirt. Then he put his hands in his pockets and began to whistle. Finally, he burst. “Oh come on! You two need to get a room or something!”

Harry and Ginny broke away, both flushed and breathing heavy. Still holding on to Harry, Ginny turned to Ron, and in a rather huskier voice than normal, said “Lovely thought, but we don’t have the time, Ronald. But thanks for the advice.”

Ron blushed beet red.

Ginny stepped back from Harry. Checking to make sure her robes and her hair were still in place, she said “Um… I um… Almost forgot… Dad did send me up here to give you two a message… um… We need to be going. Dad’s getting everybody together in the garden so we can Portkey to Hogwarts.”

“Well why didn’t you say so?” Ron opened the door to his room then stopped. On the other side stood Hermione, one of her hands raised into a fist. She had been about to knock, and the opening door had clearly surprised her.

Ron, on the other hand, just stood there.

Harry knew precisely what Ron was thinking. Even Ron would admit that Ginny was pretty. And he would admit Ginny was dressed to the nines. But Ginny was his sister, so there would always be a limit to how he reacted to her appearance. Not so Hermione.

“Hermione… You look great.” Harry said. He glanced at Ron, who hadn’t yet moved.

“Why thank you, Harry.” Hermione smiled at Harry, and then turned her eyes back to Ron. 

It looked like Ron was about to faint. And… wait a second… Harry jumped toward Ron. “Ron! Breathe mate! Come on… You’ll be all right.” He caught Ron’s weight and guided him down to sit on the camp bed.

Hermione just smiled. “Yes, do breathe, Ronald. And thank you.”

When Ron had regained his color, Hermione took his hands and pulled him out on the landing and toward the stairs. “Let’s go… we’re going to be late if we aren’t careful.”

Harry and Ginny exchanged knowing looks. Harry could tell that, although she never would let her feelings show, deep inside somewhere Hermione Granger was cheering.

XxxxxxX

Everyone was surprised when they finally saw the monument. It had been built up around Dumbledore’s tomb, incorporating the man’s sepulcher so flawlessly that it looked as if the entire thing had been designed as one structure.

Row upon row of white chairs had been set up on the green grass of Hogwarts’ front lawn, just in front of the monument’s open plaza. Those open to anyone were already filled, while those seats reserved for the families of the fallen were only beginning to fill. The Weasleys were given an entire row, but only Arthur, Molly, Hermione, Ginny and Fleur were seated.

Hermione jumped as a photographer leaned over the white “family members only” cord and took her picture. The flash of his camera caused her to shy aside, as if it were an incoming attack. “Damn their eyes. Can’t we have a moment’s p-peace?”

Molly took Hermione’s hands in her own. “Are you all right, dear? You’re all white and your hands are shaking? What’s the matter?”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Loud noises… bright flashes of light from certain spells… some of George’s fireworks… they seem to just give me the jitters now. I start getting jumpy when I’m around such things.” The shaking in her hands had traveled to the rest of her body. “I’ll be fine. I just need to take some deep breaths and settle down.”

Molly looked at Hermione carefully. “No, Hermione. You don’t just get over the trauma you’ve been through by breathing deep and pretending to be calm. We’ll talk after the service. I understand what you’re going through. I expect Harry and Ron are going through it too. I know Ginny still has nightmares.”

On Hermione’s far side, Ginny nodded. She leaned in and held Hermione in a tight hug. “All I can say is I think it gets easier with time. You'll be okay again... I promise.”

“Merlin, I hope so…” Hermione said, almost too quietly to be heard.

XxxxxxX

The six brothers stood by Fred’s coffin under the tent, awaiting the signal. Harry had felt out of place, at first, until Percy pulled him into a hug and told him how glad he was that he was there. Charlie and Bill made similar statements, making him feel like one of them. Ron and George didn’t have to say anything… he knew how they felt already.

Harry looked around, counting the number of DA members who had volunteered as pall-bearers for the fallen. It was a tribute to Dumbledore’s Army that so many of them were here, ready to pay their respects by carrying out this sad duty.

Remarkably, very few of the DA had actually been killed… only six, a small handful out of the total number of Hogwarts students who fought. Fred. Colin. Lavender. Alicia. Terry. Anthony. But even one of them would have been a tragedy. As he looked around and caught the eye of his classmates and friends, the faces of the dead passed before his eyes.

Without warning, Harry went from feeling sorrowful to feeling angry. Or perhaps angry wasn’t the correct word. He raged within himself and it twisted deep in his gut, the feeling that it all never should have happened. None of them should have died… not his parents, nor his friends, nor any of his classmates… all but for the dreams of a maniac who never stopped being the angry, frightened child he began as. He hoped that, wherever Tom Riddle ended up, he was being punished for his actions.

At last they were called to carry out their duties. As they waited for their turn out of the tent, Charlie abruptly turned placed his hand on Fred’s coffin. His face was a mask of concentration, and it looked as if he was going to speak, but in the end said nothing. After a moment, Percy brought both fists up to his lips, but though his knuckles were clenched so tightly that they turned white, he too said nothing. Then they were all touching the coffin, taking the opportunity to say one last goodbye. Ron looked a bit sick, Bill looked angry. Harry merely felt hangdog.

It was George who finally spoke. “I miss you, mate.” His voice was on the verge of cracking. “Don’t go too far ahead without me, you stupid prat…”

And then it was their turn. Each of the Weasley men, plus Harry, calmed themselves as much they could. Bill and Charlie were in the front, George and Percy in the middle, with Ron and Harry in the rear, Harry noted. They hadn’t planned it that way, having them arranged roughly in order of age… it had just… happened. Then, with great honor and dignity each took one of the casket’s brass rails and lifted.

They moved as one being, out of the tent and into the grass-covered lawn in front of Hogwarts castle. They were the last in the long line of coffins being moved to the monument, and as such were immediately noticed by the reporters. The flash-bulbs began almost immediately, causing Ron, Harry, and George to cringe aside.

Gritting their teeth, the six followed the other bearers into the Monument. The walk from the tent to Fred’s final resting place wasn’t long, but to Harry it felt that each step took a lifetime. Directly ahead of him, he watched Percy’s left hand clench and unclench, over and over. Beside him, Ron’s face was blank, but over that blankness, tears poured freely. Harry silently prayed that Ron could keep it together long enough to get through this.

They reached the appointed spot within the mausoleum and, with perfect precision, placed Fred’s coffin on the bower that would lower him into the earth. As they were the last to enter, they were the first to leave, and they immediately joined the rest of their family. Bill held hands with Fleur, with his other arm around George. Charlie sat on the other side of his mother, doing his best to assist his father in comforting her. Hermione had gathered Ron up and held him to her shoulder as he cried. Harry did the same for Ginny.

Wanting something to do other than stare at the mausoleum, Harry looked around, hurriedly. His eyes landed almost immediately on Hagrid. The huge man was standing near the back of the family section, for none of the chairs were strong enough to hold him. The gentle giant was crying noisily into a handkerchief the size of a dinner napkin.

Harry turned toward the mausoleum again, and watched as Kingsley Shacklebolt stepped forward to begin speaking.

XxxxxxX

After the ceremony, the crowd dispersed into smaller groups, greeting each other and paying respects to the loved ones of the deceased. Professor McGonagall and Augusta Longbottom were talking quietly with Molly and Arthur Weasley. Ron shook the hands of both Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, all the while holding Hermione close with his other arm. Harry was standing with Ginny, George and Lee Jordan in the mausoleum itself. They were standing around the capstone of Fred’s grave. The inscription was short, to the point, and to some, utterly inappropriate for Fred’s grave.

FRED WEASLEY
DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY
1978 — 1998
GRYFFINDOR HOUSE

“Just facts. Nothing about the person.” Lee said, and Harry and Ginny agreed. It seemed… insufficient, somehow.

Surprisingly, George didn’t. “I don’t know…” he began. “We always knew where to draw the line. There were some times when pranking…” George trailed off abruptly as Angelina Johnson approached meekly. She was looking at George with an odd look in her eyes.

“Um… hi… how are…” George began to ask.

“Oh, George!” Angelina Johnson rushed toward him, suddenly. She threw her arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. George was surprised, but managed to wrangle his arms free enough to awkwardly return her embrace. He wasn’t sure how he should react. He patted her back and she sobbed into his chest.

He could feel a warm dampness on his chest as her tears soaked through the cloth of his shirt and he sighed. At last he bent down and kissed the top of her head. It was human contact, and they both apparently needed it more than anything right now. He looked at Neville, Harry, and Ginny; all three nodded to him and moved away. They reached an appropriate distance and waited.

After a long while she pulled away from him. “George, I’m so sorry…” She absently tried wiping away at the smudges left when her mascara ran into his shirt, but the spots only grew larger.

“Nah, that’s okay… It’s Charlie’s shirt.” George smiled at her.

“What? No… I meant about Fred. I’m… I messed up your shirt.” She sniffled a bit pitifully. “I’m sorry about that too.”

George wasn’t really sure how to respond. “Thank you.” He shifted uncomfortably and looked at Lee, Harry, and Ginny. Each of them was paying attention to anything other than George and Angelina.

Angelina pulled him close and kissed his cheek. With a caring look in her eye, she said goodbye and vanished back into the crowd. Lee watched her leave, and then approached George closely.

“Mate… Believe me when I say I want nothing but happiness for you in the future… but she was Fred’s girl. Your dead brother’s girl. That was… a bit creepy.” Lee finally said after a long moment.

George was silent, thinking about what just happened. “Yeah… Creepy.” His voice was hollow, as if his mind and spirit were a thousand miles away.

“Look, I’m going to go.” Lee said. “I need to head home and sleep. This has taken too much out of me.”

“I don’t blame you.” George gave Lee a quick hug, and then patted him on the back. “Thanks for coming.”

“It was an honor.” Lee responded. “If you need me for anything…”

“Yeah, I will.” George put a hand on his friend’s shoulder for a moment, and then watched Lee wander away to the Apparition point. He sighed deeply, his breath catching in his chest. Ginny and Harry approached. Harry clapped George on the arm and shook his head.

“Well… that looked very interesting…?” Harry asked quietly.

George looked at Harry. At first he was irritated, but slowly a grim smile snuck onto his face. “Shut it, Potter.”

Chapter 8: I Grieve For You.

In retrospect, Harry realized it could have been much worse. It had taken the Wizengamot nearly three months to decide to give everyone who had been killed during the Battle of Hogwarts the Order of Merlin, along with a select handful of the survivors. Had it been up to Harry, everyone involved would have received one. The interim Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt , had over-ridden that idea, saying that “too many of them diluted the intended honor”.

Much to Shacklebolt’s amusement, Harry had told him exactly where to shove the honor. But the Minister insisted on it, and thus got his way. Harry hadn’t wanted the stupid thing, but there was no way of getting out of it. But at Kingsley’s suggestion, Harry had finally put his famous name to use in order to make sure that certain people, whom Harry felt did deserve the medal, got one.

At first Harry thought it was an ironic coincidence that the Wizengamot decided to hold the medal ceremony on his 18th birthday. It was only after Shacklebolt told him the full embarrassing truth that he put his foot down. Celebrating Victory Day on May 2nd was one thing… that was celebrating everyone’s actions in the war. There was no way he was going to permit something as ludicrous as Harry Potter Day.

When they had returned from the medal ceremony, George had immediately suggested the Weasley boys go give Fred his medal. Fred’s Order of Merlin First Class was now draped across his headstone, alongside the one issued to the late Sirius Black and their gathering had turned into an informal wake most of a bottle of firewhisky ago. The bottle was still making the rounds, and was almost completely gone. The assembled Weasleys, plus Harry, were all getting their dress-robes grass-stained.

“Oh shut it, Potter!” George said. His words slurred together into one long garbled mass. He handed the bottle off to Harry.

Harry laughed in response, the over-exuberant laughter of the slightly drunk. The lights from the house glinted from the medals around all of their necks, and it was beginning to bother his eyes. Or he might be about ready to pass out. He really didn’t know.

“I’m perfectly serious… Sirius? Serious… he always hated that pun…” Harry raised the bottle of firewhisky. “We forgot to toast Sirius. He got one of these manky medals tonight, so let’s toast Sirius. So here’s to Sirius.” He took a slug from the bottle and passed it to Percy. “What was I shay… saying? Oh yeah… I think you’re a bit drunk, George. George.”

Percy took his turn on the bottle, then passed it on to Bill. “Well I don’t know about the rest of you… but I admit it. I’m completely arse-over-tit.“ He held his head for a moment, and then lay straight backward on the grass and started singing to himself.

With one hand, Bill lifted the firewhisky bottle to his lips. With the other he picked up the framed scroll that had accompanied his medal. “That is one fine frame… one fine frame it is.” He handed the bottle to Ron. “How much does a fine frame like that cost, do you think?”

Ron chuckled. It made Harry feel good to see his friend happy. “Who gives a…”

Whatever Ron was about to say was cut off as Percy yelled out “Owl!” at the top of his voice. The brothers all watched as a dusky owl swooped down, barely missing Charlie’s head. It landed on the grass in front of Harry and extended Its leg. A large, important-looking letter was attached.

Bill laughed. “What now? The Ministry wants to rename Hogwarts the Harry Potter Academy?”

Harry blushed. Rather than respond to Bill, he said to the owl, “I’m sorry, but I don’t have any treats on me. All I can offer you is firewhisky…” he reached over and took the bottle from Charlie. There was maybe a mouthful left. Harry held it out to the bird, but it only stared at him. Then, bobbing its head once, it took off into the night sky.

“Guess it didn’t want a drink.” Harry up-ended the bottle, finishing it. He tossed aside the empty and looked at the letter for the first time. The envelope was stiff grey parchment, with florid, Germanic calligraphy in dark black ink. It read “From the Offices of Forrester, Forrester, Orthrang, Waxcaplet, and Prang, Attorneys”.

“It’s from a law office.” Harry mumbled, tearing the envelope open.

Percy, who was still flat on his back, immediately sniggered. “Dear Mister Potter, this letter is to inform you that we represent the next-of-kin of Lord V-Voldemort”. That was the first time in anyone’s memory they ever heard Percy use the name. “As such, we will be suing you for your entire liquid worth. The cause of this action is the wrongful death of Lord V-Voldemort, springing from actions taken by you on or about May 2nd.” The other young men all looked at each other, then looked at Percy. Then they exploded with laughter.

Harry wiped tears from his eyes and cracked the seal on the letter. The same florid, Germanic script greeted him on the inside. His smile slipped then disappeared entirely as he read it. He read it a second time and his expression became darker.

Ron noticed. Still chuckling, he asked, “Harry? Don’t tell me Percy was right. What’s it say?”

Harry looked at Ron, then nodded. Then he began to read:

To Mister Harry J. Potter:

Greetings on your birthday. It is my glad duty to inform you that with your ascendency to adulthood last year, you have come into the possession of the full worth of the Potter Trust, set up for you when you were very young by your parents, James P. Potter and Lily A. Potter, upon the event of your first birthday. In addition, recent circumstances have caused you to come into an additional inheritance from other sources.

In order to give a full accounting of your total inheritance, and to finalize other certain legal matters, it is required that you appear in my office on August 5th proximo at 10:30 am. At such time, we can handle the paperwork, along with the passing of keys and such. This letter is enchanted so as to act as a Portkey at the appointed date and time.

I assure you, Mister Potter that the delay in executing the transference of the Potter trust was not intentional. Normally, such matters as these would have been taken care of on your 17th birthday. I’m sure you will understand that at the time, circumstances prevented us from accomplishing the transference. At no time did my office seek to deprive you of funds or property that was rightfully yours.

Once again, congratulations on your 18th birthday. It is my fervent wish that you find the rest of your life as big an adventure as you have found so far.

Sincerely, 
Lemuel Forrester,
Forrester, Forrester, Orthrang, Waxcaplet, and Prang

“As much adventure?” Harry muttered. “Does this pillock have any idea what sort of ‘adventure’ my life’s been up till now?”

Charlie chuckled. “Now, now, Harry… don’t be bitter. The prat probably thinks he’s being supportive. You know, older gent giving a good word to a boy just coming into his own and all that.”

Harry’s response caused the brothers to break up into laughter again.

“Harry Potter! Such language! I’m surprised at you!” The intrusion of the female voice caused Percy to sit up, suddenly, and caused the other young men to make their best attempt to sober themselves up by force of will alone. “Bill, Fleur is looking for you. ”

Harry looked toward the direction of the house. Hermione stood next to Ginny, and it looked like both were enjoying the scene before them. Hermione went to Ron and helped him stand. “Come on, Ronald… let’s get you to bed. You’re going to hate it in the morning.” It was as if a switch had been thrown: the party was over. The young men made their way to their feet and slowly filtered toward the house.

Ginny assisted Harry to stand. “You, sir, are drunk.”

“I’m not… wasn’t me. It was someone else. Someone who looked like me…” He leaned on her, lazily, and she pushed him just enough to get him back on his own feet.

“Come on inside, Harry. Let’s get you to bed too.” Ginny tugged on his arm, propelling him toward the house.

Harry leered. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of you telling me to come to bed?”

Ahead of them, Percy abruptly put his hands to his ears. “Gyah! No… not listening… not listening…”

XxxxxxX

Harry lay on his side, hoping that the spinning would stop. He opened one of his eyes to see if that would help and immediately decided that the sun was a source of evil that had to be stopped. It streamed through the open window and bathed him in bright, painful, stabbing light. He closed his eye and covered his head with his pillow, silently wishing he was anywhere but…

Under the pillow, he opened both of his eyes suddenly. From deep in his mind, the thought, The light doesn’t come in from the window at that angle in Ron’s room. came crawling up from the shadowy depths.

It was then that he became conscious of the pressure of another body, snugly fitted against his back. In addition, some strange foreign object was wrapped around his side and against his chest. He peeked out from under the pillow and was surprised to see that the strange foreign object was an arm.

A girl’s arm.

An easily recognizable girl’s arm.

He gently pushed the pillow off of his head and tried to look over his left shoulder. While he hardly had a perfect view, he could see part of Ginny’s face. Despite the headache that his movements caused him, he noted that she looked just like an angel when she was asleep.

So… he was in Ginny’s room. And apparently had been all night. Looking around, he spotted his clothing from last night, piled haphazardly on the floor in front of her bureau. Another pile of clothes, hers presumably, was on the floor next to his. His eyes fell on the potion bottle perched on the bureau’s edge and locked there. He wasn’t sure, having not been drunk all that often, but he thought it was a bottle of Hangover Potion.

For some reason, he was quite certain that it hadn’t been there when he fell asleep. He could be wrong, of course, but he didn’t think he was. Which meant someone came in the room to bring it, knowing Harry would need it. This meant that someone in Ginny’s large, predominantly male and amazingly protective family knew he’d spent the night there.

He let his head fall back onto the pillow. “I am a dead-man.”

Beside him, Ginny stirred. Her arm pulled him into a hug. “Morning, Harry. How’s your head?”

“Dreadful, thanks.” He rolled over to look into her eyes and smiled. “Good morning, sleepy-head.” He kissed her on the nose. “So… what do you want to do after your mother murders me and your brothers abuse my corpse?”

Ginny looked confused. “What are you on about?”

“Ginny, I slept the entire night in your bed. With you. In your bed.” Harry looked a bit frantic. He pressed his palms into his eyes, trying to stop the pounding in his head. “Someone came in with the Hangover Potion, so by now you’re entire family knows where I was… why are you smiling?”

“It was Mum… she brought it in about two hours ago. Apologized for waking me up, but she thought you might need that when you woke up. Do you?” Ginny looked so amazingly sympathetic. She really is an angel. He thought to himself.

“Wait… your Mum caught us in bed together and didn’t say a word?” Harry was shocked.

“Well… yes and no. She didn’t scream or anything, but she also didn’t look as pleased as she could have been. I think she’s accepted that you and I share certain feelings for one another, and… well…” Ginny suddenly went from looking happy to looking furtive. “I made her certain promises.”

Harry got out of bed and grabbed the potion. He downed half of it in one large gulp, and almost immediately began to feel better. “What sort of promises?”

Ginny was almost giggling. “You know, I never figured you for Chudley Cannons boxer shorts, Harry.” She climbed out of bed and began rummaging through her drawers.

Harry began pulling the pants he wore last night on, but was distracted by the outfit she chose to sleep in. She was wearing one of his old t-shirts -- the one Fred gave him for Christmas one year, with the words Seekers Do It On Broomsticks painted across the front. I’ve been wondering where it had got to, and now, I suppose, I know. It hung to just past her waist, but left her legs exposed. When she bent over to retrieve something out of her bottom drawer, Harry lost his balance completely and landed on the floor, his legs tangled up in his pants.

Ginny straightened up and looked at him with a strange smile on her face. Either she knew precisely what had happened, or she figured it out quickly. He cleared his throat. “So… red with black lace. Um… er… very nice.” He said in a squeaky voice.

Her strange smile widened. “Why thank you, Harry.”

He stood and finished hitching up his trousers. “You never did answer my question, Ginny. What sort of promises did you make to your Mum?”

“Ah… well… I promised her that… we’d wait.” Ginny said, blushing.

“Wait for what?” Harry was confused. When she only glared at him, it became perfectly clear. “Ah… Er… Okay… Wait. Right.”

Chapter 9: You Leave Me...

The first three days of August passed in a blur. After the public spectacle of the award ceremony, it seemed as if Harry barely had a moment to himself. Along with Ron and Hermione, Harry was called upon to tell the story of their year on the run to friends, family, Ministry officials, and Hogwarts professors.

Some of the conversations, like the one he had with Minerva McGonagall, Harry would come to treasure for the rest of his life; the newly appointed Hogwarts headmistress spoke to him as an equal rather than as a teacher to a student, and it made him feel like it was all worth it.

Other conversations, like the one he had with Neville Longbottom, brought him to tears. Harry finally took the opportunity to tell Neville everything, including the Horcruxes and Neville’s near-brush with destiny. Neville took it all in with a surprising calm. In the end, he merely shook Harry’s hand and expressed his gratification at what he actually did rather than what he might have done had things been different. By the end of the conversation, Neville was jokingly referring to himself as the Boy Who Almost Was.

Lastly, there was the rest of the Weasley Clan. While Bill, George, and Ginny each knew some of the details, Ron, Hermione, and Harry had initially dreaded telling the entire family the whole story. None of them looked forward to telling Molly Weasley the details… she had more than enough to cope with, what with Fred’s death. But they all deserved to know. What made it worth the telling for the three of them was the pride they saw in the eyes of the Weasleys when they were done. Thankfully for Harry, all of the interviews and storytelling was done by the evening of the fourth.

“Are you looking forward to tomorrow?” Ron asked. He moved a knight forward.

Harry’s eyes wandered over the board for a long while. He knew through playing other people that his chess game had improved immeasurably over the years, but it never seemed to matter when he was playing Ron, who was a Grand Master at the game, even if he had never been officially recognized as such.

“Yeah, actually, I am. I’m curious as to what it is I’m going to inherit.” Harry studied the board. He knew that Ron had a trap set up somewhere, but he just couldn’t see where it was. Harry took his eyes from the board and watched Ron for a moment. His friend was studying the board, but with nowhere near the concentration Harry had just been using.

“Um… Ron…” Harry asked, more casually than he felt. “Are you ever jealous of the fact that I’m rich?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to go down this road, but curiosity was getting the better of him. “You used to make such a fuss over everything…”

Ron looked Harry in the eye for a long enough moment that Harry grew uncomfortable. Harry was about to tell Ron to just forget it when his friend finally spoke. “I used to be. Won’t deny it. You were famous, good at nearly everything you tried, on the Quidditch team your first year, despite never having seen a game much less played in one. Every girl in our year except maybe Hermione wanted you, and every boy in our year wanted to be you.”

Ron was silent for a moment. Harry could tell he was ruminating. “Being the sidekick of the Boy Who Lived…” Harry could hear the capital letters… “was old after a while. And of course, in our Fifth Year you turned into a complete and total git. On top of everything else, you being a git was sometimes hard to take.”

Harry was at a loss. He wasn’t sure what he expected to hear when he asked the question, but this wasn’t it. For some reason, he felt an urge to apologize. But then Ron continued.

“And then I had this... what’s the word. I don’t remember. Oi! Ginny!” Ron’s sister looked up from her place on the couch, folding her book over her hand. “What’s the word for when you suddenly realize what’s going on out of the blue, like? When you’re not really figuring it out, but it just comes to you like a bolt of lightning?”

Ginny thought for a moment. “You mean epiphany?”

“That’s the one. Thanks, Gin.” Ron turned back to Harry. “Anyway, I had one of them things. I finally recognized what was going on all those times when we were younger and you were over for the holidays or during the summer. You know, those times Bill or Charlie would show up and do something big-brotherish for me or Ginny or even the twins and you’d just kind of stand there with an obviously fake smile on your face. You’d be happy for us, but there’d be something missing.”

Harry’s mouth was dry. He swallowed. “Yeah? What was going on?”

“You were jealous of me, Harry. Jealous of me and Ginny. You hadn’t ever wanted to be famous, or rich, or have that scar, or be the subject of a prophecy. You just wanted to be plain old Harry, with a mum and a dad and maybe a set of brothers and sisters. I had everything you wanted, and you were jealous of it.” Ron looked Harry in the eye. “Right?”

Harry just nodded in response. He felt like Ron fired a Stunning Spell off into his face.

“Right. So when I realized this, I realized something else: money and popularity don’t really count. What counts is family, and friendship, and having a place to go where you’re safe and secure and not going to have a pack of bloody-minded yahoos chasing after you all the time. Remember that Randolph Fisk-guy, the Muggle poet we read about in Muggle Studies? He said that home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in.”

From the couch, Ginny interrupted. “Frost. It was Robert Frost who said that. He was saying that home, a real, true home, is where we belong, where everyone knows our name, where we can be ourselves, where we're wanted and valued and loved.” Ginny’s eyes caught and held Harry’s for a long moment. Both Harry and Ginny abruptly blushed and simultaneously turned away.

Ron’s eyes bounced from one to the other then back again for a moment. He smiled slightly as he continued talking. “Yeah, he’s who I meant. Anyway, my point is this: I realized that your home was not with the Muggles. It couldn’t be. Home is the place where you’re reminded of what a special person you really are. The people in your home believe in you and love you know matter what. Your family hasn't forgotten the dragons you've already slain. They know how hard it is for you and work to make it easier.”

“The only place that’s happened for you is here. This is your home. We are your family. You’re my brother as much as George and Fred and Bill and Charlie and even Percy is. So how could I possibly hold my brother’s dumb luck against him? Not your fault your father came from a rich Wizarding family, right?”

Harry nodded, amazed that all of this deep feeling had come out of Ron. If it had been Hermione, or even Ginny, he’d not have been surprised. But Ron had never struck him as the contemplative type, and said so. “You came to all this yourself?”

Ron gave him a look. “Harry, just because I’m not as smart as you or Hermione doesn’t mean I’m a bloody idiot... just means I’m slow to catch on sometimes.”

“I didn’t mean...” Harry stopped. Ginny had stood up and was stretching in that same amazing way a cat does. Ron watched Harry’s reaction, and Ginny’s stretch, and smiled again. For her part, Ginny seemed oblivious to the attention.

She picked up her book from the couch, walked to the table where Ron was sitting, and kissed him on the cheek. “That was very sweet, Ron. It really was.” And then she was gone, up the stairs toward her room. Harry’s eyes never left her. When Harry returned his gaze to Ron, after Ginny had disappeared, Ron was grinning like the cat that ate the canary.

“What?” Harry demanded. Ron’s grin just got bigger at Harry’s confusion. “What, do I have a bogie on me or something? Have I spontaneously changed colors?”

Ron tried not to laugh. “So... should I ask you what your intentions are for my sister?” He said it in joking tones, but Harry could tell Ron wasn’t completely kidding. He wanted Harry and Ginny to be happy together, but Ron hadn’t completely given up the role of protective older brother.

Harry was flustered. “What? “Well... I um... that is...” Harry wasn’t precisely sure how to respond. You see, Ron, I... um...” He stopped talking and instead picked up his pumpkin juice. He hadn’t been attending to it, and the ice had melted, but it was a diversion from the topic.

“When were you planning on asking her?” Ron laughed. “Have you bought her a ring yet?”

Harry’s pumpkin juice tried to go down the wrong tube. He coughed uncontrollably for a while before gasping out “Berk…”

Ron apparently couldn’t hold it any longer, because he started laughing. The long hard laugh of someone for whom humor had been, up until very recently, a short commodity.

Harry pushed his chair back and stood. “Well, then this is a good time to retire. Have a good night, you huge bloody git!”

Ron was still chuckling to himself. “Good night, then. I’ll see you in the morning before you leave.”

XxxxxxX

Harry knew he should be sleeping. He had an important meeting with a solicitor regarding the trust fund his parents left him. It was an important thing. If he was going to stay awake obsessing about things, why not obsess about that? But all he could think about was Ginny and that stretch…

An hour later, he had counted every star he could see through his window, had recited every poem he knew by heart to himself, and still wasn’t sleeping when an urgent need to get up presented itself. Harry sat up abruptly, fumbling for his glasses. He stumbled in the darkness until he found the door to the bathroom. It was, as usual for the Burrow at night, dimly lit with candlelight.

I can’t fall asleep, but at least I can always pee, Harry thought to himself. He had consumed a great deal of pumpkin juice earlier. He finished up, rearranged his boxers, and then froze. Very, very slowly he turned around and looked at the bathtub. It was full of hot water, soap bubbles, and Ginny Weasley.

“Um...” Harry wanted to say something, but was having problems thinking clearly. “Ginny... um...” He couldn’t help staring, but then caught himself and locked his eyes on the wall just to the right and above her head.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

It took a moment before Harry realized she had asked a question. His attention was fully taken up with not looking at her hands, and what she was covering up with her hands. Ginny was playing this very cool.

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep. Were you in here while I used the...” Harry stopped. What an idiot question. He thought to himself. No, Harry... I waited until you were in mid-pee and then Apparated myself and this tub full of soapy water in behind you while you weren’t looking.

“Forget I said anything… That was a really stupid… um… I’m going to go back to bed now, Ginny. Um… Enjoy your bath.” He got out as fast as the dim light allowed.

XxxxxxX

Ginny waited until he heard his door shut before pulling herself completely under the water. Oh my God! Naked in front of Harry! I must have embarrassed him something horrid, she thought, guiltily. Harry had done his best to be the gentleman, but unfortunately there was one reaction he hadn’t been able to control, and Ginny couldn’t help but notice.

She ignored the flare of warmth that thought created. It was just the thrill of illicit activities that all of the Weasley children except Percy seemed to be addicted to. That was all. Nothing more. She promised her mother.

Next time I simply must remember to lock the door.

XxxxxxX

Harry Potter dressed in the clothing Molly had laid out for him the night before. The outfit she had selected wasn’t quite a suit, but it was certainly better than what he was used to wearing around the house. He fruitlessly ran a comb through his hair, knowing it was a lost cause but trying anyway, then left the room.

On his way downstairs, he literally bumped into Ginny coming up. “Oh, Harry, sorry... I was just coming up for you. Mum wanted me to warn you that your eggs would be cold if you didn’t come down soon. So... consider yourself warned.”

“Sure, Ginny.” Harry smiled at her, nervous. “Look, Ginny... about last night. I wanted to apologize for... uh...” getting a good eyeful of your totally naked body didn’t seem to be an appropriate thing to say. Neither did having rather interesting dreams about you. “You know... walking in on you like that.”

“In a house with this many people it happens occasionally. Certainly wasn’t the first or last time someone’s walked in on me. My fault, really. I should have locked the door. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.” Ginny could see Harry was in agony about it. “We can talk about it later, if you want. Come on.” She took his arm and began pulling him down the stairs.

Harry allowed himself to be pulled the first couple of steps, then fell in beside her. She was still holding his arm. The thought caused him to smile. Merlin’s teeth! I’m acting like a thirteen-year-old kid with his first crush. Snap out of it, Harry!

The sight of the Weasley family gathered around the breakfast table eating and talking broke Harry out of his reverie. Ron and George flanked Harry’s usual spot at the table. On George’s right sat Charlie, and to his right, at the head of the table, sat Arthur Weasley. To Arthur’s right were two empty spaces, then a plate full of food that could only have belonged to Ginny, and then Molly sat at the end of the table.

“Well, the man of the hour!” Charlie smiled at Harry. “Better get some food in you before you head for the solicitor’s office. Who knows when you’re going to get the chance later, right?”

Harry just smiled back and began eating. It was Ginny who spoke next. “Harry, are you going to the solicitor by yourself? Or is someone going with you?”

“Harry’s asked me to come with him, actually.” Arthur finished his breakfast and wiped his mouth with a napkin. Harry made to stand when he pushed back from the table, but Arthur waved him off. “We have some time yet, Harry. No rush. Finish your breakfast and take a moment, then we can be off.”

Harry was nervous and excited, all at the same time. “It’s a wonder I can eat anything at all, actually.” He bit into his fourth piece of toast. “It’s exciting! I mean, I suspect there’s money, but I’m hoping that there’s more too it. I’d love to have some things that were once my parents. You know... some Potter family heirloom that is accompanied with a note from my father that reads ‘to be read only in the event of my death’.” He stopped talking abruptly and sat very still for a moment.

Ron put his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “All right there, Harry?”

Harry looked up at Ron. “Yeah. Sorry about that.” He wiped idly at a tear that had begun to form. Everyone at the table was quiet, looking at him. “It surprised me, is all. It’s been seventeen years since they died. I guess I’m finally getting to the point that they aren’t haunting me. Know what I mean? Seeing them right before the… well… you know… it helped me a great deal. And now I truly believe that they’re always going to be a part of me, alive or dead.”

Harry didn’t notice the knowing look Molly gave to Arthur. 

Ron patted Harry’s shoulder a couple of times. “I understand. Took me a while to get over my Gran’s death, you know.”

Harry looked around the table, and at the smiles that met him. Home is where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in. The thought came to him unbidden, from last night's talk with Ron. It was a good feeling.

Chapter 10: So Hard To Move On...

At 10:30 am precisely, the portkey dropped Harry Potter and Arthur Weasley into the lobby of Forrester, Forrester, Orthrang, Waxcaplet, and Prang. From the appearance of the lobby, Harry gathered that the first was both very old and very prestigious. The furnishings and decorations looked very expensive, but at the same time the entire place smelled a bit… musty.

A reception desk sat at one end of the room, next to a heavy-looking wooden door. The young witch behind the receptionist’s desk looked up suddenly as Harry and Arthur appeared from nowhere, gave them a quick smile, and then returned her attention to something on the desk. The two men shrugged to each other and approached. Only when they were much closer did she finally look up again and speak.

“Good morning. Can I help you?” She smiled brightly up at them, as if this was the first time she laid eyes on the two men. Harry read the name placard on her desk: Rachel Collard.

“Um… yes, Harry Potter for... um…” Harry checked the letter. “For Lemuel Forrester. I have an appointment.”

Harry was watching for it, and sure enough, it happened. She looked surprised at first. Then her eyes traveled inevitably from his towards his forehead. The surprise look on her face turned to one more of puzzlement, though. Ah, yeah… Ginny said it wasn’t a lightning bolt anymore…

But apparently she was too professional to say anything. “Yes, Mister Potter… Mister Forrester is expecting you.” She turned to Arthur. “And…?” Her question hung in the air.

“This is Arthur Weasley, Director of Magical Law Enforcement. He’s with me.” Harry watched her eyes widen slightly.

“Very well, I’ll inform Mister Forrester. If you would care to take a seat, I’m sure he’ll be right with you.” She gestured to her right, where Harry could see a waiting area filled with small tables and couches. They only had to wait a few moments, however. An impressive-looking wizard in sharply pressed grey robes stepped through heavy-looking wooden door. As he approached, he extended a hand toward Harry and smiled.

“Harry! My, I haven’t seen you since you were an infant. Where has the time gone?” The wizard said as he shook Harry’s hand. He extended his hand to Arthur. “Lemuel Forrester. Very nice to meet you Director Weasley. Very nice. Would you both follow me please?”

Forrester lead the two men into the firm’s offices. Not wanting to appear nosy, but nonetheless curious, Harry couldn’t help but ask about something the man said. “Mister Forrester, you said that you hadn’t seen me since I was an infant? I’ve been here before?”

“Oh, certainly, Harry. You were here… three times? Yes, three times, I believe. Of course, you were much younger at the time,” Forrester said. “Before I was your solicitor, I was your father’s. And before him, I was your grandfather’s solicitor. Your parents brought you to the office when they set up the trust.” The man had an easy and friendly manner that made Harry want to like him.

“I didn’t even know I had a solicitor ---” Harry said.

“Yes, well… ordinarily, it would have been the task of your godfather to inform you of the existence of your Trust. Sad affair, that,” Forrester responded. They’d reached his office. It was huge and well-kept, reflecting the fact that Lemuel Forrester was one of the firm’s senior partners. “I must confess, Harry… I was among those who counted Sirius Black as a traitor and betrayer. When the truth was made public…”

Harry’s expression grew grim. “Yeah, several people have said that.”

Forrester’s eyes seemed to reflect regret. “Yes… Well… please, do sit.” He gestured toward two comfortable looking chairs in front of his desk as he sat down behind it. The solicitor scanned the various pieces of parchment laid out on his desk in silence for a minute, before finding the one he was looking for.

“Ah, yes… Here we are. Well… shall we get started?” He handed Harry a short piece of parchment, then pushed a quill and inkpot across the desk. “First things first… if you could sign that, indicating you are acknowledging your ascendancy to the age of majority… well… we really should have done this last year, but… No matter… No matter.”

Harry quickly read over the document, but couldn’t make heads nor tails of it. It seemed to be written in a language other than English, but one that used English words nevertheless. He showed it to Arthur, who quickly read it. Arthur nodded a couple of times, and then handed it back to Harry.

“It says that you’re really Harry Potter, that you’ve really reached adulthood, and that you’re voluntarily ending Mister Forrester’s custodianship of your Trust. Go ahead and sign it, Harry,” Arthur said. Reassured, Harry signed immediately.

“This, Harry, is a balance statement giving the current value of the Potter Trust. Now, I’ve had the liberty of having it adjusted to recognize your inheritance from the estates of Sirius Black, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Rodolphus Lestrange, not to mention the recent…”

“Bellatrix Lestrange what? What do you mean? What inheritance?” Harry was on his feet, outraged and shocked. “How could I possibly inherit anything from them?”

His outburst had caught Forrester by surprise. “Well… Well… You see, you are the sole legal heir of Sirius Black.” Forrester said this as if it explained everything. At Harry’s blank look, he sighed added “According to official testimony recorded by the Ministry of Magic -- specifically by agents of your department, Director Weasley -- Bellatrix Black Lestrange was predeceased by her husband Rodolphus by a few hours. As such, she became the inheritor and possessor of his estate. When she herself was killed…” Forrester gave Arthur a quick glance… “Her estate naturally transferred to the closest living heirs.”

Harry collapsed back into his chair. He tried to think of something… anything… to say, but came up empty.

“And through your status as heir to Sirius Black,” Forrester continued, “you’re also the heir of Bellatrix Lestrange.

“Wait… Her sister… Bellatrix Lestrange’s sister, Narcissa Malfoy. She’s closer than I am. Why didn’t she inherit?” Harry asked.

“Yes… as I was about to say… in addition to the Lestrange estates, this balance indicates funds gained from the Malfoy estate. Yes, it is true, Harry, that Narcissa Malfoy is indeed closer, but given as she’s been disqualified to inherit due to Ministry Decree Number 2814, dealing with confiscation of assets from known Death Eaters…” Forrester looked to Arthur, whose eyes had suddenly grown quite wide. “Would you care to explain, Director?”

Arthur only nodded. “Harry… in order to prevent certain… corruptive factions… from gaining influence over the Ministry of Magic, we… well, Kingsley and I, really… forced some legislation through the Wizengamot. Decree 2814 orders the confiscation of all assets belonging to known supporters of Voldemort. Since both Lucius and Draco Malfoy wear the Dark Mark…”

“Narcissa Malfoy never wore the Dark Mark. She’s not a Death Eater…” Harry insisted.

Arthur grew steely cold for a moment. Harry was afraid he’d finally said something to anger the man. “Harry, she provided aid and support to You Know Who, regardless.”

“But…” Harry began.

“No, Harry. This decision has already been made. She’s not in Azkaban, primarily because of your own testimony. But that’s all the mercy she’s getting from the Ministry.” Arthur took a deep breath, calming himself down.

“So… They’re losing all they own,” Harry finished. He turned to Forrester. “And I suppose that, since I’m the closest living heir, and am not a Death Eater, it all passes to me?”

It was Arthur who answered. “Well… Yes, Harry, I suppose it does. You see, one of the compromises we had to make was to provide exceptions for family members who opposed You-Know Who. You know how interbred the pure-blooded families are, Harry.” He looked embarrassed. “Certain members of the Wizengamot -- certain pure-blooded members, that is — insisted that those families who might have a black sheep but who overall opposed You-Know-Who not lose everything. This was the best compromise we could come up with.”

Harry took a series of deep breaths, trying to calm himself down. “So let me get this straight, Mister Forrester. In addition to the money in my vault, and the money Sirius left me, I’ve got all of the Lestranges money and all of the Malfoy’s money?”

“That is the case, yes,” Forrester confirmed.

“I don’t want it. I don’t need any money from Death Eaters.” Harry shook his head, trying not to get angry again.

“Well there’s not a lot we can do about it, Harry.” Forrester put a hand up. “The accounts are inexorably combined now. There’s literally no way to separate them.”

The solicitor looked down at the parchment in his hand and started, suddenly, as if surprised he was still holding it. He handed it over to Harry. Harry’s eyes travelled down the length of the page. It was mostly columns of numbers, and he never had much interest in…

His eyes fell on the last number. The one beside the words “Total Balance.”

“That can’t be right. Is this right?” Harry said. He looked to Forrester, who merely looked puzzled.

“I assure you, Harry, we contract out all accountancy services with the goblins of Gringotts. As unpleasant and hostile as they can sometimes be, I assure you when it comes to these issues, they are scrupulously honest and accurate. Those numbers are correct. That is your liquid worth right now. Specifically, how much cash on hand you possess,” Forrester said.

Harry stared at the number, then handed the page over to Arthur.

Arthur read down the page. Harry could see when he reached the total balance by the way Arthur Weasley jolted in his seat as if struck by a Stinging Charm.

“Well, that’s…” the older man swallowed. “That’s certainly impressive.” Arthur handed the parchment back to Harry, who looked at Forrester questioningly.

“Sign at the bottom please,” Forrester said. He watched Harry attach his signature, collected up the signed page, and handed Harry another one. “This is a full accounting of the stocks, bonds, and securities owned, as well as their worth as of close of trade yesterday.”

The information on the page might as well have been written in Chinese for all that Harry understood it. He recognized some of the names, but the rest was a mystery. The number at the bottom caught his eye, though. It was nowhere near as large as the number on the previous sheet, but it was certainly impressive in its own right.

He signed it, then handed it over to Arthur, who was looking at it with a curious eye. “What on earth is a Ford Motor Company? Is that a Muggle company?” At Harry’s nod, Arthur broke out with a wide smile. “Oh, that’s excellent!”

Forrester collected the page from Arthur and handed Harry the next one. “This one, Harry, is a list of real property you own.”

“Real property?” Harry was confused.

“Land, Harry. Sorry. It means land.” Forrester waved one of his hands dismissively. “Houses. Buildings. Things like that are referred to as ‘real property’.”

“I own buildings?” Harry asked. “I mean, I know I own the brownstone at Grimmauld Place… But…” He studied the parchment. The house at Grimmauld Place was listed, as was the house in Godric’s Hollow. The other three… three? Three more? Five houses total? Harry looked at Mister Forrester, obviously confused.

“Yes, you inherited that one through Sirius Black. The house in Godric’s Hollow was your parents, as I am quite I’m sure you also are aware.” He squirmed a bit at Harry’s dark look. “Yes, sorry. Ahem. So… the manor and farmland in Hogsmeade belonged to your grandparents. For his own reasons, your father let that property go. It hasn’t been maintained at all, I’m afraid, and it’s acquired a bit of a bad reputation for being haunted.”

What? Harry thought to himself. No… it couldn’t be…

Forrester checked his notes. “The property on the Isle of Man, on the other hand, has been maintained quite well and up until recently was a rental property. From what I am given to understand, its current inhabitants are your mother’s sister and her family.”

“So that’s what happened to them…” Harry said vaguely. “I’d forgotten all about them.” He looked up, embarrassed, at Arthur’s quiet chuckle. “And this last one? The one in Wiltshire?”

“Ah yes… well…” Forrester checked his notes. “That house is the former Malfoy Manor.”

Harry signed the parchment, thinking. Mention of Malfoy Manor caused an unpleasant sinking feeling in his stomach. It was the same feeling he got the one time he got sick from a bad piece of meat when he was a child, at the school he went to with Dudley. “Mister Forrester… I… I don’t want to keep Malfoy Manor. I’ve got some rather disturbing nightmares about the place and I’d just as soon be shut of it as soon as possible. Can I sell it? Or have it torn down? Or something?”

“Well… certainly, Harry. It’s your property, after all… you can do with it what you will, though I’d advise against simply destroying such a valuable asset. It has a considerable monetary worth, after all.” Forrester seemed to be scandalized at the very thought. “Perhaps we can find a buyer for it…”

Arthur was nodding in agreement. “You can’t just destroy the house, Harry. I understand your feelings, don’t get me wrong. Ron has hinted at things you three went through… But what you…” Harry watched Arthur trying to find the right words. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say, Harry. I just keep thinking that we need to come together to heal rather than pull apart in isolation.”

Harry looked at Arthur Weasley for a long time, the affection clearly on his face. “Heal… we need to heal,” Harry muttered. He wiped a hand down his face, thinking. “Um… I think I have an idea… About the… What I want to do with the Malfoy house, Mister Forrester. I think I know. And I’m going to need your advice and help.”

Harry turned to Arthur, tears in his eyes. “It was your idea. Healing. We’ll turn it into a hospital. And we’ll name it after Fred.”

Forrester smiled. “Oh, very good, Harry. Very good indeed. I’d be glad to assist you with that. Very glad indeed.”

There were a handful of other documents to sign, as well as an impressive number of keys to be handed over. Some were for vaults, others were for houses. One was apparently to a 1935 Bentley Cabriolet that had been kept in prestige condition. (“It’s a motorcar, like the Muggles drive,” Mister Forrester confided. “Your grandfather was mad for it.”)

Just when Harry was getting tired of signing papers, Forrester sat back. “And that’s that. All finished. The only thing else I have for you is a locked trunk. I’m not sure what’s in it, mind you… I’m sure it’s personal effects. The trunk was brought to us by Albus Dumbledore. I believe he mentioned that the contents were some personal things collected from around the house in Godric’s Hollow and placed in the trunk for safe-keeping.”

Forrester opened up one of his desk drawers and withdrew a miniaturized trunk. “I’m sure you can return this to its proper size when you get back home, Harry. The key, by the way, is on the ring I’ve already given you, Harry. It is brass, if I remember correctly, and numbered 303.”

Harry picked up the miniature trunk and looked at it, carefully. He was looking forward to seeing what was inside. He glanced up at Forrester and smiled. “Thank you for everything, Mister Forrester.”

“Lemuel, please, Harry… Call me Lemuel. I hope, if I am to continue as your solicitor, that we can have as pleasant a relationship as I enjoyed with your father and grand-father.” The solicitor stood and came around his desk, signaling that the meeting was effectively over. He shook Harry’s hand as the younger man stood, then grasped Arthur Weasley’s hand.

“It's been a pleasure, Director. A pleasure. I’m glad to see Harry’s in such good hands.” With that, Forrester lead them to the lobby’s Apparition point.

Chapter 11: Still Loving What's Gone...

With a loud crack, Harry and Arthur appeared in front of the Burrow’s gate. Out of habit, Harry glanced over his shoulder toward the end of the row. He could see a handful of figures standing there. There was a suddenly white flash that caused Harry to jump.

“Are you all right, son?” Arthur asked. He put a hand on Harry’s shoulder and maneuvered him through the gate.

Harry was shaking. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“Harry… did I tell you we held a family meeting? Molly and I and the children all got together and discussed you.” Arthur’s face grew stern. “And as a group we all agreed that for you, the word ‘fine’ means ‘I’m having trouble and don’t know what to do, but I am too noble and mule-stubborn to ask for help’. So… let me ask again. Are you all right, son?”

They reached the steps leading up to the house. Arthur paused, clearly expecting an answer. “Harry?”

Harry sighed. He gave a wistful look toward the door to the house, and then gestured toward the bench that ran along one of the outside walls. As they sat, Arthur patted Harry on the arm. “It’s okay; just… tell me however you need to. Now… what happened at the gate to make you so jumpy?”

Harry was quiet for a long time. “There was a photographer at the end of the row. He took a picture of us as we were walking in.”

“And this made you jumpy?” Arthur looked confused.

“No… he was using a flash. I… You see… When…” Harry sighed. “Bright lights, loud noises… they scare me these days. I suddenly feel like I’m back in the thick of it and someone’s casting Avadas at me again.”

Arthur just nodded. “Yes. Hermione was having the same problem at the memorial service. It’s a normal reaction, Harry. You were under a great deal of stress for a long time… that’s going to leave scars, and they’re not going to heal immediately.”

The older man was quiet for a while, and Harry began to wonder if the conversation was over. Then Arthur spoke again. “Harry, I know you don’t like troubling the rest of us. I know you think that, especially with Fred‘s death, we have enough problems on our plates. But it is better for us in the long run to come together and help each other than mope about things we can’t change.”

He looked at Harry, an almost expectant air about him.

“So… I should stop saying I’m fine when I’m now.” Harry looked at his hands. “And I should stop trying to shoulder the weight of the world.”

Arthur smiled. “Someone else has had this discussion with you, I take it?”

It was Harry’s turn to grin. “Yeah… Bill, Charlie, Percy, Molly, Fleur. Never thought I’d hear it from Fleur, but I heard it from Fleur.”

“Dad?” Arthur and Harry looked up. Ginny leaned out from the porch, craning around the corner of the house to speak to them. “Mum says that dinner is almost ready. Oh, and she says we have company, so… and these are her words, Dad… hurry it up.”

Harry watched as she went back inside the Burrow. In the failing light of the evening, with the sun glinting from her spectacularly red hair, she looked like a goddess. The dreamy look on his face caught Arthur’s attention immediately.

“Harry… if I might ask one more question…”

Harry’s attention returned to earth. “Yes, sir?”

“Sir… hmmf. Well. I want to ask you about your future. Have you made any plans at all?” Arthur asked.

“I don’t know.” Harry was thoughtful. “For the past year I’ve been too afraid of not having a future to actually put a lot of thought into it. When my life was all about stopping Voldemort, I thought I might be an Auror. Maybe I still do.”

Harry looked back at the door to the Burrow. “But now that it looks like I might have a chance at a normal life… or as normal a life as I can, I think… What I really want to do with the rest of my life… Is… I want to be with your daughter. I think I’d be good at it. I want making her happy to be my job.”

Arthur frowned. “Seriously, Harry…”

Harry’s head whipped around. “I’m being totally and completely serious.”

Arthur nodded, slowly. “But what will you do with yourself? I know that you won’t ever really have to work… but I can’t see you being the type to sit back on your wealth and do nothing.”

“I’m not sure right now,” Harry said. He was quiet for a moment, but then smiled. “But at least I know I have time to figure it out.”

Arthur looked deep into Harry’s eyes. He seemed to come to some important decision before saying “Harry… I know that I haven’t talked to Molly yet… but you have my blessing. Just… let her finish school first before you take her away from us. That’s my only condition.” With that, he stood. “Let’s join the rest of the family, plus our dinner guest. Wonder who’s here?”

But Harry didn’t move. He was too surprised and shocked at what Arthur just implied. Implied? No… what Arthur just outright said.

XxxxxxX

Still gobsmacked by Arthur’s words, Harry followed Mr. Weasley into the house. They wandered into the kitchen, where Harry could see Molly, Hermione, and Ginny all gathered around a seated Andromeda Tonks. All three were making what Harry could only describe as “goo-goo faces” at the wriggling infant in Andromeda’s arms.

Ron turned to Harry with a bemused look on his face. “Glad you’re here, mate… you can save me from all this unabashed womanhood.”

The ladies at the table all looked up. When they spotted Arthur and Harry, each smiled. It was Andromeda who spoke. “I really wouldn’t bet on that, Mister Weasley. I brought Teddy over so Harry could have some time with his godson.”

“I’d love to!” Harry’s face lit up. “How has he been? And how have you been, Mrs. Tonks?” He took the miniaturized trunk out of his pocket, put it on the table in front of him, and immediately reached out to take little Teddy from his grandmother.

“So how did the meeting go, dears?” Molly Weasley asked.

“There was a lot of paperwork.” Harry said. He cooed at Teddy, making a series of moogly-faces at the infant that soon had the baby smiling. As Harry watched, the wisps of hair on Teddy’s head went from brown to a sea-foam green.

“So did your folks leave you anything good?” Ron asked. “What?” Ron’s question had been met with a collection of stony faces. Then they all turned their attention to Harry, who was busily making raspberries with the baby.

Harry looked up, his tongue still in his lips in mid-flbbbrt, and noticed everyone staring at him. “Um… I’m sorry… did I miss a question?”

Ginny had apparently been holding her breath. She let it out and said “Only Ron being insensitive again.”

“How do you mean, Ginny?” Ron put on a hurt expression. “It’s an honest question, I think.”

“What was the question, Ron?” Harry asked.

“Oh, you know… I asked if your parents left you anything good.” Ron shrugged at the question, a bit more sheepishly than before. “So… did they?”

Harry made another face at the baby. “Yeah, that box there. Ooobly —ooobly —oobly.” The baby giggled and Harry’s smile grew wider.

Ron looked at the shrunken trunk. “That’s it?”

Harry laughed. “No, Ron… that’s just what I was able to carry back to the house. Some of the rest of it is rather larger.”

“Well, however large it is, it needs to move, or you won’t have any dinner.” Molly Weasley said. She used her wand to levitate plates, forks, and spoons to the table. Harry nodded to Ron, who moved the shrunken trunk to a side table.

As dinner began, Ron continued to pepper Harry with questions. “So… Seriously, what happened?”

“Well…” Harry took an awkward bite of his dinner. With Teddy curled up asleep in the crook of his other arm, he was having a hard time of it. “There’s some more money… apparently what I’d been using so far is some sort of ‘operational fund’ to handle things like school expenses and to give me some pocket money.”

Harry tried unsuccessfully to use the side of his fork to cut his meat, but gave it up. He sighed, looking down at his sleeping godson. He didn’t want to put the boy down, but at the same time his dinner would be cold before he could eat it. He pushed his plate away, looked up, and froze in place. Molly and Andromeda were both giving him strange if affectionate looks. Hermione was looking at him in a warm manner she usually reserved for Ron. And Ginny, sitting next to him… Ginny was beaming at him.

Harry blinked, wondering what was going on. “Um…”

Ginny sighed and smiled at him. She moved Harry’s plate over so she could reach it better, and then proceeded to cut his food into bite-sized pieces. Watching her, he was filled with incredible warmth.

The moment was burst, of course, by Ron. “Okay, so you were rich, and now you’re richer?” Ron wasn’t even watching; rather, he was concentrating on his mashed potatoes.

Harry blinked, still enraptured by Ginny. “Huh? Oh… well, yeah, I suppose.” He felt mildly embarrassed by that, given the state of finances in the Weasley household. “And there’s a bunch of stocks, and a couple of houses.” Ginny shoved Harry’s plate back over. Harry took a bite, and smiled a thank you.

Arthur coughed. “Five.”

All heads at the table turned to Arthur, then back to Harry. “Five houses?” Ginny asked.

Harry shrugged. “Well, you know about Sirius Black's house on Grimmauld Place already, and the house in Godric’s Hollow where… you know.” He took another bite. “I’ve also inherited a rental property on the Isle of Man, and my grand-parents old manor house in Hogsmeade, and… I’ve apparently inherited Malfoy Manor.”

There was a general uproar at the table. Ron was bouncing up and down saying “Way to go, Harry!” Hermione was wondering how that was possible. Ginny and Molly had just looked surprised. But it was Andromeda’s reaction that caught Harry’s attention.

“Ah… So you are one of the other ones!” She said it with an air of revelation, as if Harry had just answered an important question.

Harry waited for the noise to die down. “One of the other ones?”

Andromeda looked around the table, a little uncomfortable at finding herself the center of attention for everyone present. “Yes… I spoke to the solicitor… my solicitor, yesterday, and he told me that as one of the two heirs to the Black fortune, I was standing to inherit from my sister Bella…” She paused for a moment, suddenly aware of where she was. “Um… yes, and he told me about what was happening to Narcissa and her family, and said I stood to get a portion of the Malfoy fortune also because in that case I was one of four so-called ‘heirs’ of the Malfoys.”

“It never occurred to me, Mrs. Tonks. I asked about Narcissa, but I completely forgot that you were her sister. So why did I get their house?” Harry was vaguely disturbed. He wasn’t too happy about what the Ministry was doing to Narcissa Malfoy, but even worse he didn’t want Andromeda Tonks to pay for her in-laws mistakes.

Andromeda took a deep breath and suddenly Harry could see that she was every the inch a daughter of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. “I originally wanted to turn it down, but in the end I accepted it. I had my solicitor put it all in a trust for Teddy. But I only took money, Harry… I don’t touch anything owned by Lucius Malfoy.”

“So who are the other two?” Ron asked out of the blue.

“Sorry? The other two?” Andromeda Tonks asked in return.

“You said there were four heirs to the Malfoy fortune? Who are they? You and Harry and who else?” Ron asked.

“Ron,” Molly began in a warning tone.

“No, its fine, Molly. In fact, I can answer this one.” It surprised everyone when Arthur spoke. The other two heirs are Neville Longbottom, through his Great-Uncle Harfang…. And… well…” Arthur shrugged and blushed. “Me... Through my mother.”

Everyone was silent for a long while. All of the Weasley children stared at their father in shock.

And then chaos exploded. Molly clasped her husband to her, holding on for great long minutes. Their children were cheering and dancing and hugging their parents. All except Ron, who just sat there.

When the noise died down, Ron asked, in a quiet voice. “So… You’re rich now, Dad?”

Arthur looked at his youngest son, and the embarrassed smile he’d been holding turned into a look of great understanding. “Does it matter?”

Ron was quiet. He seemed to be staring into nothing, obviously thinking.

“Ron?” Ginny asked, concerned.

Ron looked at his sister, then back to his father. “No, it doesn’t matter.” He grinned. “Harry taught me that… I’m just glad that you and Mum are going to be… You know…”

Arthur nodded, and silence descended again.

“I’m turning the Malfoy house into a hospital,” Harry said, suddenly.

Arthur leaned over and whispered something in Molly’s ear. Harry watched her get all teary-eyed. She pressed both of her hands to her breast. “Oh, Harry… that’s wonderful.”

“That is a pretty good one, mate,” Ron said. “So… what’s in the box?”

“Oh… Er… I’m not really sure. Mister Forrester said it was personal items from Godric’s Hollow. Things my mum and dad owned. They were put in the box for safekeeping.”

“Let’s see then! Open her up?” Ron insisted.

“He’s not even finished eating, Ronald.” Hermione’s voice was scathing. Harry shook his head and smiled. He carefully handed the sleeping infant over to Andromeda and began eating in earnest. Minutes later, he was finished.

“I’ll clear up,” Molly said. “The rest of you can all go into the parlor and we’ll see what’s in Harry’s treasure box.” She took her wand out her wand and began moving the dirty dishes into the sink. With another wave, they began washing themselves.

Harry set the trunk on the floor in the middle of the parlor and tapped it with his wand. “Engorgio.” The trunk grew from small enough to fit into his pocket to as big as his normal school trunk. He pulled out the key ring Mr. Forrester had given him, and methodically matched the keys with the trunk’s locks. It took him a moment to find the correct keys, with a few false starts.

When the trunk finally popped open, it was as if everyone in the room had been holding their breath. The trunk seemed tightly packed with many different sorts of objects. There were boxes, and books, and objects covered in cloths and in bags. But on top of everything was a broom.

Harry pulled the broom out and looked at it curiously. The handle was finely shined, though the twigs were beginning to fray a bit. The copper binding on the tail had begun to tarnish, and one of the foot-rests was slightly bent.

“Oh, my…” It was Arthur. “Harry, I do believe that’s a Rocket 150.” He held his hand out, and Harry handed the broom over. “I don’t think I’ve seen one of these in close to 20 years.” He rolled the broom over, examining every part of it.

“Don’t think I’ve ever heard of the Rocket 150, Dad.” Ron was also looking at it with some interest. “Good broom?”

“I’d say. It was the Firebolt of its day. Not just one of your everyday riding brooms… this one was a top-of-the-line racer.” Arthur handed the Rocket to Ron, who began his own very close inspection. “Even today, I’d take this broom up against any one of the Cleansweeps. Harry’s Firebolt would leave it standing, of course, and likely one of the Nimbuses would also, but nothing less. It’s a fine broom.”

Harry took a matched pair of wooden boxes out of the trunk and opened them. They contained wands. “I think these were my parents’.” One was about a foot long and made of mahogany, the other slightly shorter and made of willow. “I wonder which was which?” He held them for a while, noting the warm feeling he got from both, and then replaced them in their boxes. He handed both to Ginny, then turned back to the trunk.

He took a series of books out of the trunk. Reading off the titles, he handed them to Hermione. “The Three Musketeers, 1984, A Princess of Mars, The Name of the Rose, Now We Are Six, Winnie-the-Pooh, The House At Pooh Corner, Leaves of Grass, Mastering the Art of French Cooking… There’s one for Fleur… “Harry smiled.

“I haven’t ever heard of any of these,” Ginny said. “Are they any good?”

Hermione smiled. She seemed to be bouncing up and down at the discovery of the books. “They’re fantastic. Muggle authors, of course. That’s why you’ve never heard of them.”

Harry kept reading off titles. “Don Quixote, The Paradoxes of Mister Pond, Great Expectations, The Bell Jar, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe… don’t laugh too badly if you read that one, Ron… The Wind in the Willows, Wuthering Heights…”

“Oh I love Wuthering Heights! It’s so romantic.” Hermione opened the book as soon as Harry handed it to her and read the first page to herself. “Ginny, you’ve got to read this.”

Ron looked scandalized. “Thanks, Hermione… give Ginny ideas why don’t you.” He’d set the broom aside and was inspecting the wands.

Harry grinned. “This is quite a collection of books. I guess they were my mum’s.”

He reached back into the trunk and pulled out a smaller wooden box. “Oh.” Harry stared at the open box for a moment without speaking, and then handed the box to Ginny.

Ginny looked into the box and her eyes grew wide, and then turned the box so everyone could see. The box held three rings, one with a large diamond. “Do you think these were your…” she asked Harry.

“Yeah.” He kept his voice flat. “Yeah, I think so.”

Harry pulled out a stuffed bear. He turned it over in his hand. The bear looked odd, and it took a moment for Harry to realize that there was a patch of fur on its back that was longer than the rest… as if the toy bear had some sort of sickness that caused all of its fur to fall out and regrow unevenly.

“I suppose this was mine. I don’t remember it.” He handed it to Ginny and turned back to the trunk.

XxxxxxX

Ginny took the bear and smiled. She could imagine an infant Harry playing with his toys as he crawled around at his parent’s feet. The image made her feel strangely squiggly inside. She turned the bear over in her hands, immediately noting the odd pattern in fur length.

The bear had an oddly scorched smell as well, she noted. Ginny turned and rolled it in her hands, holding it this way and that, until finally she had it in a position where the pattern of long fur became apparent. It was a handprint. She put her own hand over it and compared. The pattern was from a woman’s hand, definitely.

She glanced over at Harry, her face reflecting her confusion. Harry had pulled a rolled up mass of cloth and leather that turned out to be a full set of Quidditch robes. Harry’s dad was a chaser, just like I am, she thought to herself. She looked back down to the bear.

Other than the hand-shaped patch, the rest of the fur had been scorched and shortened. Ginny thought about it for a moment. It was like the bear had been hit by a powerful curse… Oh no! Oh Merlin no!

Ginny’s mouth fell open and she felt her eyes tear up immediately. She turned her eyes to Harry. He was talking to Ron about his dad’s Quidditch gear. Ginny turned to Hermione. Like Ginny, Hermione was staring at the bear with tears in her eyes. They stared at each other for a moment.

Harry’s mother had to have been holding this when she was killed, Ginny thought to herself.

She wiped her eyes and sniffed, grateful for once that Harry was paying her no attention at all.

Chapter 12: They Say Life Carries On...

“I’m up here, Hermione,” Ginny called. She watched as the figure on the ground looked around. “On the roof.” A loud crack, and suddenly Hermione Granger was standing on the roof. She wobbled, obviously trying to get her balance. Ginny extended a hand and helped her friend sit without falling.

“So…” Hermione was obviously nervous. Ginny knew she hated heights, and knew that it took a lot for Hermione to come up here. “Are you okay? You… erm… you ran out without saying anything, and Harry’s worried, and you know how he gets.”

“Yeah, I do.” Ginny smiled. “I guess you volunteered to retrieve me?”

“Of course I did. It’s what friends do, right? Harry got all worried. I told him you just needed some air and followed you out.” Hermione kept peering at the ground. It was barely visible in the moonlight. “Ginny, how did you get up here? I didn’t think you knew how to Apparate.”

“I don’t yet.” Ginny confessed. She picked the broom up from the roof beside her so Hermione could see it. “I’ve been going up on the roof to think for years. I am happy for him and scared for him all at the same time, Hermione.”

Hermione blinked. “Who, Harry? Why scared?”

Ginny decided that it was likely a good thing that Hermione couldn’t see her face very clearly. “Hermione, he once told me that he never liked to plan for the future because he wasn’t sure he’d have one. He’s been through so much.” She wiped at her eyes. “I know that we all have, but he’s really had the weight of the entire world on his shoulders since he was eleven. I just don’t know… Oh Merlin… I don’t know how I’m going to help him through it all, or even if he’s going to want me to be there.”

“Ginny…” Hermione began.

“No, Hermione… I need to say this. He loves me, and I believe it. I feel it. In here.” She beat a hand against her chest. “And I love him… and I think… I look into his eyes and I see my unborn children. I see the future. I’m just not sure if he knows he has one. And do we? I mean, what if something happens that keeps that future from happening?”

Hermione smiled. “You mean like falling off the top of a four story house, breaking your neck, and dying? That sort of something?”

Ginny giggled and wiped more tears from her eyes. “I suppose we really should get down, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Hermione held out a hand. “My treat.”

Ginny grasped Hermione’s hand and they were suddenly sitting on the ground.

Hermione stood and helped Ginny up. “So you think you and Harry…” She shrugged.

“Yeah, eventually.” Ginny took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly. “The alternative is… unthinkable. But it’s scary. When I saw him there on the ground… When I thought he was dead… I just broke. Hermione…”

“Yes, Ginny?”

“Do you…” Ginny swallowed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to let this out yet. “Do you remember when we were fighting Bellatrix?”

“Yes, I remember.” Hermione had grown quiet and solemn. “I remember.”

Ginny was quiet. Very quiet. “I didn’t care… I didn’t care if I lived or died. I didn’t care about anything at that point. She nearly got me with the Killing Curse, and the only thing I could think was she was a lousy shot. I was about to throw an Avada Kadavra myself, right before Mum jumped in. I think… at that point… I could have done it. I’m fairly certain I could do it now, were there a call for it. Does that make me a bad person?”

“Ginny…” Hermione whispered.

“I’m serious, Hermione. Does it?”

“Is your mum a bad person?” Hermione asked. “She killed Bellatrix.”

“She was protecting her children. She had a reason. I was about to use the Killing Curse because it was the first thing that came to mind. That’s no good reason at all.” Ginny shook her head. “I don’t… I didn’t figure you’d understand.”

Hermione pulled Ginny into a hug. “I understand perfectly. And no, you weren’t protecting your children… you were avenging your… “She smiled at Ginny and nodded. “You were avenging your husband.”

Ginny laughed. “Oh, my. I guess I’ve got it real bad, don’t I?”

“Yeah.” Hermione smiled in the dark. “Believe it or not, I know how you feel. As exasperating as he is, I feel the same way about your brother.”

Ginny laughed. “Does he know that? He’s not exactly the swiftest broom on the pitch when it comes to romance.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be romantic. He’s just clumsy about it,” Hermione sighed. “To be perfectly honest, I’ve… I’ve loved him for a long, long time. Since our fourth year in fact, when he got so jealous over my dancing with Victor Krum. It was so cute.”

“Cute? Ron?” Ginny scoffed. “Are we discussing the same person? Ron Weasley? My older brother?”

“Endearing then.” Hermione granted.

They paused in their conversation as the door opened, spilling light out into the yard. Andromeda Tonks stepped out with Teddy in her arms. The older woman turned to say goodnight to the people inside the house, then strode to the gate. Within moments, she had Apparated away.

“Endearing, you said? I can live with endearing.” Ginny glanced up at the house. “Has he asked you yet?”

Hermione smirked. “This is Ron we’re talking about.”

“True. Very true. So… Shall we rejoin everyone?” Ginny pulled her toward the door.

Hermione laughed. “Yes, lets. It’s getting entirely too melodramatic out here.”

XxxxxxX

“So would you stop being stubborn? Just pretend you asked me for help and I said yes. That way you can stop worrying.” Harry was leaning in close to Ron. The two men were alone in the darkened parlor, looking every bit as if they were conspiring about something.

Which, of course, they were.

“Harry, you know how I feel about this stuff. I don’t need charity.” Ron was adamant.

“Shhhh! Keep your voice down,” Harry whispered. “Look… if you want you can pay me back. All right? I don’t care how long it takes… call it a long-term loan. But I’m doing this… We’re doing this… tomorrow. You and I. And when we’re done, you don’t need to thank me.” He waved his hands toward Ron, trying to prevent another near-outburst. “You don’t need to make a big deal about it. I assure you that the cost isn’t going to be that big a deal. We’ll go and take care of it tomorrow, all right?”

Harry sat up abruptly, trying to look nonchalant. His eyes met Ginny’s as she walked back into the house and he grinned. “Hey there. Everything okay?” He was concerned about her… in the middle of his trunk unpacking, she just ran out without saying a word.

Ron turned and smiled at Hermione. “Hey, love…” She returned his smile, sliding over the arm of the couch directly into his lap. “I was… um… telling Harry… about the trip.”

“Telling Harry about the trip? Ronald! I thought we were going to let everyone know in the morning…” Hermione brought her hand up to Ron’s shoulder, more a pat than an actual slap. She leaned in and kissed him.

“Trip?” Ginny asked. She sat next to Harry on Arthur’s favorite tuffet, nudging in as close as possible without actually being on top of him. She kissed him on the cheek and put her hand into his.

Harry gave Ginny’s hand a squeeze, and then turned back to Hermione. “No, its okay, Hermione. I’m not going to tell a soul. I promise.”

“Tell a soul about what?” Ginny looked the question to Hermione.

“I was notified that they’ve located my parents.” Hermione shrugged. “Ron and I are going to go and bring them back to England. We’ll be gone a couple of weeks.”

“You’re going to Australia? When?” Ginny leaned forward. “And why not just tell everybody when you got the news?”

“I didn’t tell everybody because we were all waiting on Harry. I didn’t want to spoil anything. We’ll let everyone else know about it tomorrow.” Hermione picked a piece of cloth from the top of the opened chest and held it out in front of her. It was an infant’s nightdress in plain white cotton. “As for when… its Tuesday… so no later than Sunday, I think. This is adorable, Harry, but somehow I just can’t see you wearing it.”

Harry laughed. “I have sort of outgrown all of these.”

Ginny looked at the piles of stuff haphazardly placed back in the trunk, and the objects that were on the table and on the floor around it. “So what are you going to do with all this, Harry?”

“I’m not sure. I’m sure I’ll find somewhere to put it. I do have several houses.”

XxxxxxX

Ginny gently pulled back the covers and slid into bed, then pulled the blanket back up so that she was covered to the neck. She wriggled, very slowly, until her back was pressed up against Harry’s chest. Almost automatically, he wrapped his arms around her, a movement that made her smile.

“Mmmph?” Harry lifted his head slightly, not really even opening his eyes. “jnn?”

“It’s just me, Harry,” Ginny whispered. “I thought you might need the company. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmhh. Emthng k?”

“Yes, Harry… everything’s okay. Just hold me for a little while, and go back to sleep.”

“Mmk. Muvv oo.”

“I love you too, Harry.” Ginny allowed Harry to wrap his arms around her, trying to give him as much comfort as she was getting. Life is so bloody unfair. She thought to herself, They were just playing with their baby boy. She was so young when she died.

“Whm ur mmmm?”

“Don’t worry about my Mum… She’ll understand. Shhhhh…” Ginny felt Harry relax in stages as his breathing grew deeper and more regular. She smiled to herself at the thought of his trusting her that much. She’d seen him suffering through a nightmare. When she was with him, he never had them. Nor did she, for that matter.

Ginny lay in the dark, smiling, wrapped in the warmth of Harry’s body, until sleep overcame her.

XxxxxxX

“Harry, tell me again why I am dressed in a suit?” Ron felt awkward.

“Ron, we’re going into Muggle London. They’d look at us funny if we showed up in dress robes.” Harry approached the service counter at Gringotts and nodded to the Goblin. “Greetings. I’d like to convert some galleons into Muggle currency.”

“Yes… May I have…” the goblin trailed off. Its face contorted with a sudden rage. Its voice became the growl of a predator that had spotted prey. “Potter! And Weasley.” Harry never knew that his surname could be used as an epithet, but it was clear that this goblin had other ideas in that regard.

The goblin stared at him. Harry grew progressively more and more uncomfortable under the creature’s stare.

“But Harry, I meant why are we dressed up in the first place?” Ron asked, getting more exasperated by the moment. He was apparently utterly oblivious to the goblin’s hostility.

After a long while the Goblin seemed to relent. It nodded at Harry’s request. “To what value?”

“To what value? I don’t think I understand the question,” Harry asked. He turned to Ron. “Because dressing nice is expected where we’re going. At least if you wish to be taken seriously as a customer.”

“Once the conversion is complete, how much Muggle money do you want? How many pounds, in other words?” The goblin looked even more annoyed than goblins usually do.

“Oh… er… Good question.” Harry thought about it for a moment. “Um… How about… um… tnthndpnds?” He said it quickly, so Ron couldn’t hear.

“Excuse me, please? Could you repeat that?” The goblin was getting progressively testy.

“Ten thousand pounds, I think,” Harry finally blurted out.

The goblin stared at him for a moment. “Sir, are you suggesting you’re about to enter Muggle London with ten thousand pounds in your pocket? In hard currency?”

“Er… Yeah… unless there’s a better way to do it.” Harry was perplexed. He didn’t understand the problem.

The goblin fumed for a moment. “If I might make a suggestion. You’ll find with those sorts of amounts that using a card is easier than using cash. Would you like for me to issue you a card? It will be preset to a specific amount… in this case, ten thousand pounds… and you’ll be able to use it for as long as that amount persists.”

“Er… All right. Let’s do that, then.” Harry nodded. The goblin curled its lip up at him, and then walked back into the depths of the bank.

Ron leaned in. “Did I hear you right? You’re getting ten thousand? I can’t pay that much back! Are we going to need that much?” He sounded on the edge of panic.

“Calm down, Ron… ten thousand pounds is like… thirty galleons. It’s not all that much at all.” He kept his voice level, hoping his friend didn’t catch on. Sometimes Ron’s ignorance of Muggle life was useful.

They waited for several minutes before the goblin returned. The creature handed Harry a blank white rectangle.

Harry stared at it for a moment. “This is it?”

The goblin nodded. “Yes sir. You’ll find that it is accepted any place the Muggles would otherwise accept a credit card, and that it will always appear to be an acceptable brand of card. It currently has a value of ten thousand pounds. That amount has been deducted from your account, Mister Potter. If you wish to increase the balance at any time, just return here to us.”

“Right. Thanks.” Harry tapped the card against the end of his nose, and then put it into his suit pocket. “Come on, Ron.”

“A moment, Mister Potter.” The goblin held up a hand. “In the interests of peace, because you are a major account-holder, and because the Minister of Magic specifically requested it,” the goblin spat, “we are overlooking certain of your… recent activities. But be warned… if you try it again we will hang your skull from our lintel with the other thieves. Do we have an understanding, Mister Potter?”

Harry gulped. “Yes, we have an understanding.”

XxxxxxX

Harry and Ron appeared from nowhere with a loud crack. As usual with a side-along Apparation, Ron looked vaguely nauseous. Harry felt this was appropriate, seeing as they appeared in an empty men’s room.

“Harry… “Ron gulped. “Where are we?”

“Hmm? Oh… Bank Tube men’s room, near the London Exchange. Are you all right?” Harry patted Ron on the back.

“Not really… between being nervous about doing this and the side-along, I don’t think I am all right.” Ron’s color was returning to normal, which Harry saw as a good sign.”

Harry laughed. “Wouldn’t worry about it. You’ll do fine. Let’s go up.” He led Ron out of the men’s room, through the tube access-way, and upstairs to London proper. They came aboveground in the courtyard of the London Exchange, near an impressively huge marble building. The entire area was filled with Muggles, most of whom were dressed like they were.

“See, Ron? I told you… the suits are perfect camouflage.” Harry grinned. “Our destination is over there.”

Ron looked at the lettering on the wall next to the door. “What’s a Tiffany’s?”

“They sell engagement rings and wedding ring sets, Ron.” Harry pushed the button next to the door. A salesman appeared shortly and let them in.

“Good afternoon. My friend here is in the market for an engagement ring and wedding rings for the bride and groom,” Harry said. Ron was looking around, gawking at the jewelry with his mouth open.

The salesman smirked. He looked Harry up and down, and then did the same for Ron. He leaned in to Harry, and in a quiet, conspiratorial voice, said, “If I might be excused for saying so, sir, your friend looks a bit out of his depth. I take it he’s not used to shopping at this… hurr… price level?”

Harry’s smile was less polite, but it fit the situation. “You can assume that I am used to it.” He wasn’t… not really… but he would be damned if he was going to let the salesman know it. “He needs a set of quality rings. And when he’s selected them, hand me the bill.”

The salesman seemed to realize he’d overstepped and immediately apologized. He led Harry and Ron over to a display case and began extolling the virtues of the rings therein. He opened up the back of the case and brought out a series of three ring sets.

It was the fourth set that finally caught Ron’s eye. He simply liked the look of it. “So… this isn’t silver, even though it looks like it?”

“No, young man.” The salesman smiled. “This set is in platinum. The men’s band is four millimeters wide, while the lady’s is three millimeters. The engagement ring is a three carat square cut diamond.”

Ron looked at Harry. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s your decision.” Harry leaned casually against one of the more solid looking countertops. “Do you think Hermione will like this set?”

Ron nodded.

“Then he’ll take them,” Harry said to the salesman. “If you could wrap them up… and better box the engagement ring separately.”

“Good thinking… In fact, just put the engagement ring in a box. I’m going to ask her before we leave for Australia…” Ron stopped looking confused and began looking a bit frightened.

“You’re up to the challenge, Ron. Gryffindor, remember?” Harry took the card out and handed it to the salesman.

“Sir, it’s going to be six thou…” At Harry’s casual wave, the man shrugged and looked at the card. “Platinum MasterCard. Yes sir.” He fiddled with the card in some way that Harry and Ron weren’t familiar with, and in moments came over with a receipt. “If you could sign here, please.”

While Harry signed, Ron took a glance at the final price. His eyes bulged.

“Harry, you’re sure it converts to…”

“Sure, Ron… It’s not that much, once you convert it. Trust me.”

Chapter 13: Carries On And On And On And On

“So… have you… you know?” Harry asked Ron. It had been two days since the purchase of the ring, and as there had been no sudden explosion of happiness from Molly, Harry figured the question had yet to be popped. He was merely looking for confirmation of this from Ron.

“Not yet. Haven’t had the chance, really.” Ron replied, looking a bit sheepish.

“Haven’t had the chance? What sort of rubbish is that? You’ve had all sorts of chances!” Harry laughed. As always, Harry found his best mate’s inability to deal with romance amusing. “A full forty-eight hours of chances, in fact.”

Ron stared at Harry with a gimlet eye. “Oh yeah? When, then? While Mum’s busy making plans for Ginny’s birthday? Or when the entire bloody family is all gathered together making jokes about how ‘Mione and I will be all by our lonesome in some foreign country without a chaperone? Or maybe when we’re up to our arms in packing?” The young man seemed to deflate. “Yeah, that’s romantic. All I want is five minutes alone with her and I can’t even get that right.”

Harry stopped laughing. “I’m sure you’ll find it, mate. It’ll work out.”

“What will work out?” Hermione asked, coming down the stairs with Ginny. As was usual these days, she was carrying her lists. She had lists of things to be done before they left for Australia, a list of things to be done once they got there, a list of things to be packed, a list of things to be purchased… Ron told Harry he was going spare with all the lists, but Harry had merely shrugged. “It’s the price of being with Hermione, Ron. She likes to be prepared,” he had said.

But this morning, Harry knew that Ron wanted to surprise her. “Oh… Er… the trip. Ron’s a bit nervous. Never been that far from home without the entire family… doesn’t want to act like a prat in front of the Aussies… things like that.”

“Ronald, I’m sure…” Hermione began.

“Mail’s here!” From the kitchen came the voice of Molly Weasley, interrupting.

“Thanks Mum. Let us know if the Hogwarts letters get here!” Ginny called back. She turned to Hermione and shrugged. The two girls sat, each with their respective boyfriends.

“As I was saying, Ronald… I’m sure you’ll do fine. We’re only going to be in Australia for a week, and then we’ll be back. Kingsley says the Australian Ministry has my parents under surveillance… It’s not like we have to hunt around the Outback for them.”

Ginny leaned into Harry. “Think of it as a holiday, Ron.”

“Um… yeah, well… I just…” Ron shrugged, not sure how to carry on the deception. “Actually I… um… I’d already started thinking of it that way, Ginny. It’s a big place, is all, and neither of us has ever been. And I was sort of hoping we might get a chance… just the two of us... To, you know... look around a little before coming back.

“I think that’s a brilliant idea.” Harry interjected. “It's not like the two of you haven’t earned a bit of time off. We all have.” Ginny was nodding as he spoke. “So if you need to take an extra week to have some fun, you should. Go to a beach. Go dancing… just enjoy the time together.”

Ron looked to Hermione. Hermione looked at Ron. Ron shrugged and smiled. Harry marveled at their capacity to hold an entire conversation in a look and a gesture.

“Good. I’m glad that’s settled. Someone ought to have a decent sense of fun around here.” Ginny said. “Bring me back a t-shirt!”

“A decent sense of fun? “ Harry scoffed in mock offense. “A decent sense of fun? This from the girl who let me call her Virginia all during her first year of Hogwarts without once informing me that her name was actually Ginevra and not Virginia at all?”

“Oh Ginny, you didn’t.” Hermione giggled.

“Yeah, she did. I was the one who had to correct him. Ginny was having too much fun with it, stringing him along.” Ron smiled. “I reckon if I hadn’t told him he’d still be calling her that.

“Cruel and inhumane, that was.” Harry laughed. She turned as slapped him on the shoulder as he hugged him to her.

“Oh, I see. If that’s how you’re going to be…” She kissed him deeply. “We’ll just have to see…”

The squeal from the kitchen had them all on their feet, wands out, looking for the threat. After the previous year, it had become an ingrained behavior. But there wasn’t a threat. Tears in her eyes, a wide smile on her face, Molly Weasley rushed into the parlor. She enveloped Harry and Ginny in a crushing hug. “Oh my dears… my children… I am so happy for you!”

The four exchanged puzzled glances. The hug continued for a long while until finally Molly released them. She sat in Arthur’s chair and leaned forward. “Oh Ginny…this is wonderful!”

“Um… thanks, Mum. What… What is wonderful, precisely?” Ginny looked at Harry for a moment, then back at her mother.

“Oh… OH! Um… Oh my… I’ve ruined it, haven’t I? He hasn’t asked you yet and I let the cat… Oh my…” Molly looked suddenly sheepish. “It's just when I saw the article, I just assumed…

“What article, Mrs. Weasley?” Hermione asked.

“Here. This.” She thrust a rolled up magazine at Hermione.

Hermione opened the magazine up and her eyes went wide. “This is the new Witch Weekly?” She asked Molly.

“Just came in today, yes.” Molly wiped at the tears in her eyes.

“I see.” Hermione looked at the two page article. In the accompanying picture, Harry and Ron were both clearly examining something, and then Harry was purchasing it. She looked up at Harry and grinned. She recognized the name “Tiffany’s”. She began to read:

BRITAIN’S MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR NO LONGER ELIGIBLE?
Has the Savior Of The Wizarding World Found Love?
By Alisa Northwood, Society Columnist

It seems that Harry Potter may be taking himself off of the market soon! The young man most of Britain knows as the Savior of the Wizarding World was spotted with best-mate and fellow Hero-of-Hogwarts Ronald Weasley at Tiffany’s of London, a posh Muggle jewelers. This reporter was told by a source inside the store that the Boy-Who-Lived, who in addition to topping Witch Weekly’s Most Eligible Bachelor list also lands squarely on the Top 10 Wealthiest Wizards list, spent a whopping seven thousand Muggle pounds, or twenty-five hundred Galleons, on a beautiful platinum engagement ring and a pair of matching wedding bands!

Speculation on the identity of Potter’s soon-to-be-bride has begun. Alas, speculation is all we have to go on. Other than his recent appearance to accept the Order of Merlin, First Class from the Minister of Magic, Harry Potter has been keeping a very low profile since his triumphant defeat over You-Know-Who last May. But never fear, Alisa is on the case, and she won’t rest until we find out which lucky witch has taken the Hero of the Wizarding World off the market!

As Hermione finished reading, Harry looked aghast. He was staring at Ron, whose own face had grown cloudy. He didn’t have any time to say anything, though, as Ginny hurled herself at him. She kissed him furiously; hugging him so tight he had trouble breathing.

“Erm. Ginny… Hold… Gin… C’mon… Ginny.” Harry kissed her back… he wasn’t about to miss an opportunity to kiss her… but was trying to disentangle himself at the same time. “Hold… Gin...”

“Oh Harry! Yes! Of course! Of course I will!” Ginny kissed him one last time, and then hugged him. “Of course I’ll marry you!” Molly Weasley was crying all out. She once again gathered Harry and Ginny into a tight hug.

“But…” Harry began, but Ginny kept going.

“I know, you were waiting for the perfect moment to ask me, but it doesn’t matter! I love you, and yes… I’ll marry you!”

“That’s great, Ginny… I’m really, really happy you say that… but…” Harry tried to say. Neither Ginny nor Molly seemed to be listening.

“This is so wonderful,” Hermione said. She wiped an errant tear from her eye and turned to Ron with a beatific smile on her face. The smile slipped, but only just when she saw Ron’s expression. “Ron? Oh do come on… you’re not going to go into that protective older brother sulk, are you?” Ron didn’t say anything. He simply stared at Harry, with a guarded and offended look in his eye.

“Ginny…” Harry finally managed to get out. “Mrs. Weasley… Molly…. MUM!” His squawk finally ended the hug. “I love Ginny with all my heart, and I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and I never want to be apart from her again. But… as much as I’d love to say the article was correct… and as fantastic as it is to be engaged… if we are engaged…”

“What do you mean, if?” Ginny leaned back suddenly, as if someone had thrust a snake into her face. “I just said yes!”

“Well…” Harry looked over to Ron, who was still brooding. “I…” He shrugged to Ron, whose eyes narrowed.

“Go on, Harry. Tell them.” Ron’s voice was brittle. “Tell them about the dirty little trick you pulled on me.”

“Now, Ronald, don’t be like that…” Hermione began.

“Twenty-five hundred Galleons? You said it was only around thirty!” Ron’s stare was accusing. “Bloody hell, Harry… What was that about? There’s no way I can ever pay back twenty-five hundred…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “How am I supposed to pay you back for that, Harry?”

Harry was silent for a moment. He looked at the women, who were all staring at Ron as if his mate had suddenly sprouted eagle feathers from his ears. “Ron… you don’t have to…”

“You… All I… A little help… But… Merlin’s eyes… Twenty…” Ron was sputtering, and angry. Next to him, Harry could see Hermione’s eyes getting wider and wider. She’s not called the brightest witch of her generation anyone’s ever met for nothing. She’s put it together already, Harry thought to himself. Looks like the idea of the surprise is over.

“I DIDN’T WANT YOUR BLOODY CHARITY!” Ron yelled, standing.

Harry shot to his feet also. He was tired of this sort of rot. “What good is my having all that bloody money if I can’t use it to help my family out, Ron? Huh? What good is it? You don’t! Have! To pay! Me! Back! I don’t care if it was twenty-five thousand! I was glad to do it and I’d do it again, you stubborn ass!”

The two young men glared at each other. For a moment it began to look as if one of them would actually take a swing at the other.

“Ahem,” Ginny coughed. “Well… Hermione… Looks like congratulations are in order, then. That’s assuming of course that Ron and Harry stop fighting long enough for Ron to actually propose.”

Ron turned to Ginny, confused. “What?” And that was all it took. Ginny and Harry burst out laughing. Harry collapsed back onto the couch. The absurdity of the situation struck him again and he roared with laughter. It was infectious. Soon Molly and Hermione joined in. Ron sat back down, utterly flummoxed, but soon even he was chuckling.

“You’re a total prat, Potter. Have I told you that?” Ron smiled at his friend. “You didn’t have to lie to me, mate.”

“Would you have let me do this for you if I hadn’t?” He was still laughing, but injected enough seriousness into his voice to end the subject.

Ron just shook his head. When the laughter died down, he turned to Hermione, who was still smiling. “So… what do you think?”

Hermione’s jaw dropped in mock indignation. She was still laughing. “What do I think? Oh, no, Ronald… you’re going to have to do much better than that if you expect me to accept your proposal. What do I think… indeed!”

Ron blushed all the way to the roots of his hair. “Sorry, Hermione.” Feeling self-conscious, doing this in front of his mother and his sister and his best mate, he slowly pulled a small white box from his pocket. He swallowed, opened the box, and presented it to her. Molly and Ginny both gasped at the sight of the ring, and the sound caused Ron to jump. It was clear to everyone that he was on the verge of losing his nerve entirely.

“Hermione, I love you. Would you… Could you do…? ” Ron swallowed again. He took a deep breath and said, simply, “Marry me.”

“Of course I will, Ron. Of course I will.” Hermione held out her left hand, and Ron slipped the ring onto her finger. Her eyes were tearing up as she leaned forward and kissed him, fully and deeply on the lips. She pulled back just enough to speak. “It’s a good thing you asked, Ron.”

Ron blinked. “Why’s that?”

“If you hadn’t by the time we got back from Australia, I was going to ask you.” Hermione’s eyes twinkled at him. And then suddenly it was their turn to be enveloped in one of Molly’s hugs.

Harry sat back as he watched his best friends share their moment. He looked at Ginny. She was smiling as well, but there was wistfulness to it. “Ginny," he said quietly. “Are you all right?”

“I suppose.” She sighed. “For a moment, I was engaged to the man of my dreams.” She leaned over and put her head on his shoulder. “I can wait, I suppose.”

Thoughts whirled around Harry’s head. “I’m sorry, Ginny… I didn’t think it would… I didn’t expect.” He gave up. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. You love me, right?”

“Of course.” Harry kissed her on the top of her head.

“Then its fine… I can wait.” She sighed again.

“Yeah,” he said, vaguely. The whirling thoughts finally coalesced. “Ginny… wait here. Do not move from this spot.” He stood and ran upstairs.

Ron was puzzled. “Where’s he off to?”

“I don’t have the first clue.” Ginny frowned. She was a bit out of sorts by being abruptly shoved off of Harry’s chest.

“He probably feels embarrassed. Ginny… you should go after him. He probably thinks he let you down somehow,” Hermione said. She was holding her hand out so Molly could study the ring, Ginny stood, but by the time she had reached the bottom of the stairway, Harry had returned.

“Good. You’re here,” he said. Harry put his hands on Ginny’s waist and lifted her, spinning to put her on the third step. She experienced a moment of childish delight in the thought that she was momentarily taller than he was. And then he did the last thing she expected.

He dropped to one knee.

“Ginevra Weasley, I love you, and I think I’ve always loved you, even when I was too self-absorbed not to notice you. I want to spend my entire life making you happy. I want to grow old with you, and be the father of your children. Would you do me the eternal honor of becoming my wife?” Ginny recognized the ring box Harry held immediately. She was being presented with his mother’s engagement ring.

Without thinking, Ginny took the ring from the box and looked at it. The oval diamond gleamed in the light, but what caught her eye was the inscription. James and Lily, Always.

“Will you, Ginny?” Harry asked again, sounding slightly desperate. “We don’t have to get married right away… we can wait until…”

“Shut up, Harry. Of course I will marry you. I already said yes.” She smiled down at him as the tears started. She looked at the ring again, marveling at it. And as she moved to put it on her finger, she watched the inscription wriggle and change until it read Harry and Ginevra, Always.

Chapter 14: The News That Truly Shocks…

Harry sat on the porch, watching the rain. There were days when rain depressed him, and days when rain uplifted him. This was definitely one of the good days, but the sometime ambiguity of the rain mirrored his feelings at the moment. His sudden proposal and Ginny’s acceptance made him soar through the clouds… but the sudden proposal and thoughts of the future had brought him back down to earth.

The door opened behind him. “Coming out to check on me? I’m all right… just watching the rain a bit.” Harry said. Without even looking, he knew it was Ron. “Thinking, you know?”

Ron leaned next to Harry, each mirroring the other’s posture. “Butterbeer?” Ron held out the open bottle, which Harry took without a thought. “The girls have talked Mum out of throwing a big party.” Ron grinned. “Seems in all the excitement, Mum forgot she was already planning one three days from now.”

“Ginny’s birthday, yeah.” Harry nodded. “I still need to buy her a present.” He took a pull from his bottle and made a face. He couldn’t understand how Ron could drink it cold.

“I think you did a pretty good job just now, Harry.” Ron chuckled. “Did I ever tell you…? When she was seven she announced to the house that she was going to marry you when she grew up.” Ron’s chuckled died down just a tad. “We… Uh… We always thought it was great for her to have a dream. Got to say, I didn’t think it would actually happen someday. At least not at the time.”

“I still can’t believe I did that…” Harry said quietly.

Ron looked at Harry for a long moment, a strange expression on his face. “Not thinking of backing out, are you, because at this point I’d have to kill you. Slowly. That’s if Ginny left enough of you to kill.”

“No… No thoughts of backing out at all. I just…” Harry waved a hand randomly, searching for the word. “She looked downhearted after she found out it was you and Hermione and not… I just couldn’t let her feel like that, you know? And I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I was thinking about marrying her… I mean, ever since you and I went to get Hermione’s ring, yeah?”

Ron nodded. “Go on.”

“Well… I knew I’d ask her eventually. I just didn’t think ‘eventually’ meant this morning, is all.” Harry sipped his butterbeer again. “We’re both very young, after all. She’s only sixteen, for crying out loud. I was figuring after we got back from Hogwarts, next year…”

“Harry, she's only sixteen for three more days. Then she’s seventeen and of legal age and old enough to decide if she wants to get married or not. For some strange and inexplicable reason, she’s decided that not only does she want to get married, she wants to get married to this funny-looking, daft git her older brother dragged home from school one summer.” Ron tilted his bottle back, emptying it. “I know you’re young. We’re all young. But none of us has been a kid for a long time. Not even Ginny. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to waste time.”

“You’ve got me there,” Harry conceded. “I just… don’t want to mess up. Anyway… I promised your folks that Ginny would finish school. So no matter what else happens, we’re waiting at least until she’s out of school before getting married. The prospect of a long engagement sounds pretty good to me.”

“That’s good. At least one of us should finish. I know McGonagall has offered us a chance to go back… I just don’t think I’m going to,” Ron began. “I’ve been thinking a lot about things… George, mostly. I think…”

The door opened and Hermione, Ginny, and Molly came out. The women were all dressed in cloaks and had their handbags with them. “We’re going out for a little while. Hermione and Ginny thought we should treat ourselves to a lady’s day out,” Molly announced. “Would either of you boys like to come along?” Her voice made it quite clear that she was only asking out of politeness and expected Harry and Ron to refuse.

“That’s okay, Mrs. Weasley… I actually have an errand I need to attend to. Something I should have done a month ago.” Harry gave her a hug. “You three have fun.” Molly smiled and walked toward the gate.

Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and kissed him. “You have fun on your errand. Get Ron to come with you… he needs to get out of the house more.”

Harry laughed. “I will. Um… How are you fixed for money?” He asked quietly. Ron’s head whipped around toward them, making it clear that Harry wasn’t quite as quiet about it as he wanted to be.

At first it looked as if Ginny was going to protest. Harry put a finger to her lips. “If we are to be married, you need to get used to the idea that everything I have is also yours. So… how are you fixed for money?”

Ginny shrugged. “I’ve got some. Not a lot.”

“Ginny? Are we going or not?” Hermione asked from the gate. “It’s wet out here!”

“Okay… here.” He pulled a small bag out of his pocket. “This is just my walking around money, so you’re not putting me out or anything. Go have fun.”

Ginny looked unsure. “I…”

Harry sighed. “… Share the standard Weasley opposition to anyone giving you a handout. It’s not a handout, love… it’s just part of the package. Accept it.”

Ginny nodded, kissed him on the cheek, and then ran for the gate.

“Collectively… and I mean as a family… we all really need to get used to the fact that some of us are doing better than others, don’t we? You, George, Dad…” Ron said as they watched the women Apparate away. “We’ve become so hyper-aware about our being poor that when someone tries to do us a good turn, we get angry about it.”

“I’m used to it, Ron.” Harry smiled. “It’s been going on for a long time. Since…”

“… Fourth year, yeah? I know. You and the dress robes and the joke shop.” Ron shrugged again.

The young men watched the rain for several minutes, both lost in their own thoughts. “I’ve always loved the rain,” Ron said out of nowhere. “I mean, I hate getting caught out in it, but I love watching it. There are days when it really gets me down, but other days it really makes me happy. You know what I mean, Harry?”

Harry started laughing. “Yeah, Ron… I was thinking the same thing. I know what you mean.”

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” Ron asked.

“Doing what?” Harry looked nonplussed by the sudden question.

“Getting engaged. Marriage, a job. Kids, someday. Maybe I’d be a good dad. But you know, the whole thing. Everything that we never let ourselves think about while we were searching for the Horcruxes,” Ron said. “You know... living. We’re really doing it.”

“It certainly looks like it,” Harry said. Suddenly, he chuckled. “I thought Hermione was going to hit you. ‘What do you think?’ Come on, man… even I knew that was the wrong way to go about it.”

“Yeah, I stepped on it. Yours was much better, spur of the moment or not.” Ron tucked Harry on the shoulder. “You’ve always been better at romantic gestures than I have, though.”

“That’s because you’re a clod about some things, Ron.” Harry smiled at Ron’s grin. They both knew it was true. “Brilliant chess player, the only man I’d ever want at my side when going up against a Dark Lord… but a total loss when it comes to women. I’m surprised Hermione hasn’t torn her hair out by now.”

“Two words, Potter: Cho. Chang.”

Harry blanched. “Now, that wasn’t all my fault. Part of it was that she was certifiable at the time.”

“Coming from you that might be a compliment,” Ron replied, and they both laughed.

Harry waved it away. “You were saying you weren’t going back to Hogwarts…” he prompted.

There was an uncomfortable pause. “So what’s this big errand of yours, Harry?” Ron asked, changing the subject.

Harry eyed his best-mate, noting how uncomfortable Ron had become. “Ah… Er… Well, it’s something I’ve been thinking about since I got back from the solicitors. I told you I’ve inherited a couple of houses, yeah?” At Ron’s nod, Harry continued. “Apparently they hid the Muggles in one of them, and no one’s ever gone to tell them they could go back to their own house.”

“You mean Moldy-Wart’s been dead for three months and no one’s told the Muggles they could go back to their own house?” Ron laughed out loud. “Harry, that’s brilliant. No… not merely brilliant… that’s epic! So… want me to come along? ”

“Yeah… I want to stop off at their house. You know, make sure things are okay there, then go and give them the news,” Harry said. “I figure it won’t take more than a couple of hours. I’ll even buy you lunch afterward.”

“Lunch sounds good,” Ron confirmed.

XxxxxxX

A pair of loud cracks heralded their sudden appearance in the back garden of Number 4 Privet Drive. What they saw came as a shock. Harry studied the remains of the house for a moment, then the houses on either side.

“Looks like someone was really, really pissed off, Harry,” Ron said. The entire top floor of the house was gone, and the rest had been left open to the air. The houses on the right and left were likewise damaged to the point that no one would be living there for a good while.

“It had to have been the Death Eaters,” Harry muttered. “But why blow up the house? They were waiting for us in the air when we made our escape…”

“I remember,” Ron said sourly. “Let’s look around front.” The two men walked around one side of the house, stepping over the remains of the wooden fence that had once separated its garden from the house next door. “I reckon they blew up the house just for laughs. They were Death Eaters, after all. Mad bunch, every one of them.”

Harry nodded. It was as good an explanation as any. They’d reached the front of the house, and the damage didn’t look any better. The entire house was surrounded by yellow tape bearing the words “Dangerous Area”, as were the two beside it. “I certainly hope no one was hurt. I didn’t know the Sixes or Twos at all, but…”

“Sixes and Twos?” Ron asked.

“Yeah.” Harry pointed to the house on the right. “Number Two Privet Drive.” He pointed again, to the house on the left. “Number Six Privet Drive. I never did learn the names of either family, so I always called them Mister and Missus Two and Six.”

“Really? Huh.” Ron took a look around the neighborhood. “It looks like no one wants to live here anymore. All those signs offering houses for sale.” He was thoughtful for a moment. “You know… Hermione and I will need a place…”

“Trust me, Ron… There are better places to live than Little Whinging.” Harry frowned. “This place always felt too… artificial… to me. Like everything was made of plastic and you couldn’t just live here… like you were always on display.”

“What’s plastic?” Ron asked.

“Nevermind.”

“All right,” Ron shrugged. “I suppose we could always get a place near Mum and Dad. Devon’s not a bad place to live.”

As the two returned to the back garden, Ron suddenly asked, “Got any idea about you and Ginny yet?”

Harry started. “Ron… we’ve only been engaged for a couple of hours. We’re not getting married any time soon, so we have time to think on it, don’t you agree?” He put his hand on Ron’s shoulder. “Ready?”

Ron nodded. “At least…”

And they were gone…

XxxxxxX

“…you’ve got lots of choices.” Ron said. They were suddenly at the top of a long green hill. Far below them, they could see a pair of rivers running into a bay, with a large sprawling village nearby. “If you want to live in London, you can get Grimmauld Place fixed up. It might be a good place to start a family. Or there’s Hogsmeade… you’ve got a house there, right?”

Harry looked askance at Ron for a moment. “Ron… I’ve got the Shrieking Shack. It was my grand-parent’s house. Dad let it get run down to hide Remus’ ‘monthlies’... It needs more than just a coat of paint.”

Ron shrugged. “Yeah, but it’s better than living in your parents’ attic. So… where do you figure?”

Harry took a slip of parchment out of his pocket. “If that’s Douglas, then we shouldn’t be that far. We’re after Number 12 Amslyon Way, Douglas Head. I suppose the easiest way is to go into town and ask directions.”

Unfortunately for the two of them, getting directions was only half the problem. It turned out that the house they were looking for was not only on the outskirts of Douglas, it was on the opposite end of the town from the spot they Apparated into. Eventually, Harry was able to talk Ron into taking the trolley, rather than Apparating at random and asking someone if they were close. And even then, the trolley deposited them nearly a kilometer from their destination.

Ron grumbled at the walking, but Harry found it refreshing. “Come on, Ron… it’s a beautiful day! A walk won’t kill you!”

“What’s the good of being a wizard if you have to walk over half the countryside?” Ron muttered. “I mean, seriously…”

“I think that’s it up there.” They’d approached a multi-stories cottage in the middle of a large, green field. There was no immediate sign of life from the outside. They walked through the gate and up to the door, which had been painted a pleasant shade of green.

“You ready for this?” Ron asked. Harry had that hard-bitten look he always carried when he was walking knowingly into an unpleasant situation.

Harry shook his head after a moment. “No, but its best to get it over with.” With that, he knocked on the door.

After a quick moment, the door opened. Petunia Dursley’s eyes widened at the sight of Harry, and her face softened. “Harry…?” She brought one hand up, as if to touch him, but then caught herself. “Well… come in then. Come in.” She actually managed to smile at him, briefly.

“Er… Aunt Petunia, this is my friend Ron. Ron Weasley.” Harry began.

She took them into the parlor and gestured for them to sit. “So… is it over? Can we go home?”

Harry looked uncomfortable. “Well… um… how to say this… Yes and no. The war’s over. We won.”

Petunia sagged in her seat, clearly relieved. “And you’re safe?” She nodded toward Ron, including him and his family in her question. Once again, Harry got the feeling that she was much more concerned than she would ever willingly show.

Ron was quiet. “Most of us, yes, ma’am.”

Petunia clearly understood the implication. “You have my condolences, young man. So… what is the rest of it? You said yes and no.”

“You can’t exactly go home… they destroyed your house. It looks like they blew it up, in fact. Not only yours, but the houses to the left and right.” Harry looked slightly guilty. “We just came from there… it’s all gone. You’d have to have it torn down and rebuilt…”

Petunia looked shocked. “So… what’s to become of us? We can’t keep staying in this house… sooner or later the owner will want it back. And we had lives in Surrey…” She trailed off.

“I own the house, actually,” Harry blurted out. “I… um… inherited it. It used to belong to my grandparents. You know, my dad’s parents. The Potters.” For a moment, Harry was on the verge of offering the house to the Dursleys. But just for a moment. The long memory of how he had been treated somehow ended any feelings of charity he felt to Petunia Dursley. “You can stay as long as you need.”

“Vernon would hate knowing this is your house, you know. He’d absolutely hate it.” Petunia was quiet for a long time. “I suppose it does explain why we had to have electricity run in, though.”

Harry laughed. It sounded out of place. “Yes, I’m sure. Anyway, I thought it best to stop in and tell you what was going on. I can come back later in the week, after you and Vernon decide on what you want to do.”

“That might be for the best.” She stood, and the visit was abruptly over. “Well… I suppose you need to be going.” Ron and Harry both followed her to the door. As they were leaving, she abruptly called to him. “Harry… I’ve… I miss Lily, you know. I always have.”

Harry just nodded. Ron and Harry watched her close the door, then turned toward the gate. Standing there was a young man with short blonde hair, and a young woman with hair as dark as Harry’s.

“Harry?” Dudley Dursley had finally lost the remnants of his baby fat, and indeed looked trim and fit. His arm was around the young lady’s waist. “So… have you come back, Harry?”

“No, Dudley… I just came by for a visit.” Harry’s eyes searched Dudley’s, but all he saw there was the same vague friendliness he’d seen the last time the pair were together. “This is my friend, Ron Weasley. We… Er…” Harry was at a loss. Dudley might know of the Wizarding world, but the young lady…

“I’m his best mate. We served together.” Ron extended a hand. “You’d be Dudley. Harry’s told me some about you.” Ron didn’t appear to be completely pleased to meet Dudley, but was trying his hardest to be polite.

“Nice to meet you, Ron. Harry, this is Darraty. Darraty Leece… we’ve been seeing each other.” Dudley looked to Harry. “So it’s safe? You’re safe? Did you… You know… Did you do it?”

“Yeah. I did it. Everyone’s safe. It’s over.”

Chapter 15:  …Is The Empty, Empty Page

“Get him, Harry!” Ron shouted as Harry’s table swung past Charlie’s. It bounced off with a hearty *THUMP*, but with no actual damage done. Harry wasn’t utterly sure how he ended up as one of the combatants, but he was doing his best to uphold his end of the traditional table joust. He was never sure of why this great contest happened prior to family gatherings… it just always had. And now it was Harry’s turn. Ron stood nearby, offering their encouragement, while George merely watched in silence.

He waved his wand, causing his table to spin on its axis as it swung around. Harry waited until almost the last moment before giving his wand a twist. The table mimicked the action, twisting to present its solid top just as it grazed past the other table’s legs. With the satisfying snap of breaking wood, the other table’s legs were sheared clean off.

“And it looks like we have a winner,” Arthur Weasley called from the door. “And, according to the rules of the contest, the winner makes the repairs.” It was clear to everyone that Arthur was amused, though he tried to put a tone of reprimand into his voice. “Now that the fun and games are over, we need to finish setting up. Everyone will be arriving soon and your mother wants it all perfect.”

“Sorry…” Harry said, a little sheepishly. While Charlie maintained his levitation of the now broken table, Harry lowered his own to the grass. Harry pointed at the broken table and, in his mind, spoke the word Reparo. Charlie sat his table, including its now repaired legs, next to Harry’s.

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. You weren’t here the time that Fred and George butted tables so hard one of them shattered right down the center. That was impressive.” Charlie gave Harry a pat on the shoulder. “You have to take the not-fun with the fun, I always say.”

Under Arthur’s supervision, the four young men maneuvered the tables and various chairs around the garden, and then strung up some paper lanterns. When the garden was set precisely to Molly’s instructions, Arthur proclaimed them finished. “You should all get cleaned up,” he said at last to his boys. “I suppose everyone will be arriving soon.”

This turned out to be all too true. Harry followed Arthur in to find Bill Weasley and his wife Fleur coming out of the fireplace. “Hello, Dad.”

“Ah, Bill! Fleur! Glad to see you again. If you’ll excuse us… we all need to get washed up before dinner!” With that, Arthur, Charlie, and Ron left for the kitchen. Harry, however, found his way blocked by Bill Weasley.

Shaking off the soot, the oldest Weasley brother smiled at Harry with a grin that was slightly predatory. “Hello, Harry. So…I saw this interesting magazine article that said you were on the hunt for an engagement ring. Said you might be close to getting married. Anyone I know?” Bill’s voice had just the right amount of menace to it to put Harry on edge.

Fleur, on the other hand, wasn’t having any of it. She casually slapped Bill’s stomach with the back of her hand. “Leave ‘im alone, Beel. You should be vary t’ankful zat eet ees ‘Arry… In ‘eem she ‘as a fine catch.” She guided her husband away from the fireplace and brushed his shoulders off.

“It’s not the who that concerns me, dearest. It’s the when.” Bill looked decidedly unhappy. His eyes never left Harry’s. “I just think it’s a little fast.”

“Bill, look…” Harry began.

“No, Harry, you look.” He stepped closer to Harry, who was suddenly very aware of how large and imposing Bill was. “She’s my baby sister, and I have a duty to watch out for her, even when she doesn’t want me to. I think I have the right to say this, and I’m going to. She’s seventeen. Seven. Teen. Merlin’s white beard, neither one of you are even out of school yet! I know you’re a great guy, but you’re only eighteen, yourself! What business do the pair of you have getting married at your age?”

“We’re not getting married at our age,” Harry said quietly. “At least…”

Bill was on a roll, however. “You’re still both kids! Do you even have the first clue what you’re going to do for a living? Do you know where you’re going to live? I like you fine, Harry… you’re as good as a brother to me, but even I see this as a bad idea! You’re not even old enough to know what love really is yet. You both need time to grow up and be adults for a while!”

Bill was getting louder. Arthur and Molly stepped into the parlor from the kitchen, staring open-mouthed as their oldest son’s irritation wound tighter and tighter. Behind them, both Ron and Charlie stood, looking nervous. Ginny and Hermione had come down the stairs, both looking slightly frightened at Bill’s growing anger.

“Harry, I’m not saying I don’t think you and Ginny wouldn’t be perfect together… I’m just saying that you need to think with the big head instead of the little one!” This comment elicited a gasp from Molly, but Bill didn’t even notice. “You’re just too damned young to be getting married right now!”

“I agree,” Harry said. He had a look on his face that told everyone in the room he’d rather be screaming right back at Bill, but amazingly he kept his voice level and calm. “We’re waiting. I promised Mum and Dad that we’d wait at least until Ginny was out of school, and I intend to keep that promise. But you’re wrong about one thing, Bill.”

That stopped Bill cold. “You’re… Agreeing? You… What… Wrong? What?”

Harry looked at Ginny. She looked back at him with such love and devotion that he felt invincible. “We’re old enough to know what love really is, Bill. And I’ll thank you to not think otherwise in the future.”

“Well said, Harry.” Ron’s voice carried from the kitchen.

Everyone was quiet for a moment. Bill and Harry continued to look at each other, speaking volumes by saying absolutely nothing. Harry was asking the other man to trust him with the life and soul of Bill’s precious baby sister, and he understood how hard it would be for Bill to accept that.

The silence grew, a bit more uncomfortably.

It was suddenly shattered by a voice from the fireplace. “Did… Did I miss something? What’s going on? Is everything all right?” Percy stepped into the parlor, brushing soot and dust from the shoulders of a young woman in a light green sundress. “Did we interrupt something?”

XxxxxxX

Harry wasn’t sure he’d heard correctly. “One second… you’re saying Percy did this? Percy Weasley?” Harry asked. He couldn’t quite believe his ears. His conversational partner was the young lady who arrived with Percy, who gave her name as Audrey Winterbourne. Harry surreptitiously glanced away from her to Percy Weasley, who was chatting up his brother Bill. “That Percy standing right over there? The one in the horn-rims? Mister Don’t-Make-Waves-Keep-A-Low-Profile Himself rushed into a burning building?”

“Oh yes… he was quite magnificent. My knight in shining armor, as it were.” Audrey laughed. “When those… did you call them ‘Death Eaters’? When they set fire to my dormitory I was caught beneath some burning wreckage. He rushed into the fire, looking for survivors, and found me. If he hadn’t teleported me to a hospital, I’d have burned or suffocated from the smoke. Of course, he wasn’t specifically there for me… just for anyone he could rescue. It was quite gallant of him.”

Audrey followed Harry’s glance to Percy, and it was clear to Harry that she was purely his. If Percy was smart — and Harry knew that while Percy might be a good many things stupid wasn’t one of them — he’d be marrying this woman in short order.

“During our first few dates, he tried to hide it, but I knew there was something off there.” Audrey smiled. “He would get confused over basic concepts, and had no idea about money, and occasionally something odd would happen… we were eating in a sidewalk cafe once and an owl landed on our table; it had a note tied to its leg. Eventually I cornered him and got him to confess. That was close to a year ago.”

She turned back to Harry. “So… Percy tells me you were raised among normal people? Well… you know… non-magical people? I didn’t mean to…”

“Not at all.” Harry waved her concern away. “But to answer your question, yes… I had quite the mundane childhood, as free from magic as possible.”

Audrey waved toward…everything. “It’s a bit daunting. Percy’s tried to ease me into it, but…” She looked at a loss for words. “I mean… everyone knows that there’s no such thing as magic. But… here it is, right in front of me.”

“I understand. When I first entered this world at age eleven I could hardly believe it myself. You’ll… Er… I suppose if you’re around for long enough… “ Harry grinned, trying not to make assumptions but at the same time, trying to not be off-hand. “You and Percy seem good for each other.”

“Thank you!” Audrey replied with a smile. It lit up her face in a way that made it obvious to Harry what Percy had been attracted to.

“I should warn you, though… if you do continue to see Percy, Arthur is going to end up interrogating you.” Harry grinned and took a sip of his drink. “He’s mad for Muggles, you see… used to ask me all sorts of questions. ‘Harry, just what is the function of a rubber duck? Harry, do you happen to know anything about typewriters? Harry, what sort of fuel does a refrigerator require in order to function?’ All sorts of questions.”

“I’ll have to be on my guard, then. ” Audrey smiled.

“He really isn’t that… Oh, hello love!” A pair of brilliantly freckled arms wrapped around his chest from behind and Harry felt Ginny press her cheek to his back. “How is your evening so far? Audrey, has anyone introduced you to Ginny yet?”

“The birthday girl?” Audrey asked. “No, not directly. It’s nice to meet you, though.”

Ginny shifted so she could see past Harry’s shoulder. “It’s nice to meet you as well. I was talking to Percy earlier and he said you were some sort of linguist?”

Audrey laughed. “Well… not quite. I’m actually a behavioral psychologist. I specialize in non-verbal communication. I’m still at university, however. I’m hoping to get my doctorate.”

“So how does one get ‘linguist’ out of that?” Harry asked, amused.

“I specialize in reading body language. So I suppose I’m a bit like a linguist.” Audrey sipped her drink and made a face. “I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to pumpkin juice.”

“Believe me, I can relate.” Ginny laughed. “A couple of weeks ago, Harry and Hermione and I were out running errands in Muggle London and we stopped off at a café called… what was it, Harry? They sold American food… MacDunnoughs? MacDingles? Something like that, anyway… and I had my first taste of soda-pop. I still can’t believe Muggles actually like to drink something that over-sugared. It was like drinking liquefied candy.”

At Audrey’s laugh, Ginny made a face. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the occasional sweet, but drinking it with lunch? Eww…”

“All right, everyone… time for presents!” Molly Weasley caught everyone’s attention, calling them all back into the parlor. Ginny sat at the center of things, with Harry next to her, and everyone else ranged around them.

“Here you go, Ginny, dear. From your father and me.” Molly handed Ginny a brightly wrapped rectangular package. She tore into it with gusto, revealing a new set of school robes. Charlie’s gift, a set of dragon-leather arm- and shin-guards that were perfect for playing Quidditch, followed. From Luna Lovegood, Ginny received a box of chocolate frogs and a set of scented bath oils. Neville Longbottom had sent her a book, Happy as a Harpy: The Autobiography of Gwenog Jones, while Bill and Fleur gave her a portable wireless set that would not only allow her to listen to broadcasts, but came pre-charmed to play twenty of her favorite songs.

Harry reached behind the couch and pulled out a long, thin package. He handed it to Ginny with a wide smile. Ginny, who suspected what it was from the shape, tore it open more enthusiastically than any of the other presents. The shredded wrapping paper fell away to reveal…

“The Captain of the Gryffindor House Team ought to be riding a Firebolt...” Harry said. “I think it should be a new tradition.”

“Now that is a broom!” Charlie whistled, utterly impressed. “So… are you going to let anybody else try it out? I mean… after you’ve had a go, of course.” Beside him, Ron smirked.

“Anyone who wants a turn can have one,” Ginny said with a laugh. “But me first.”

“You’re going to want to put it through its paces before using it in a game. Just so you get used to the acceleration, of course.” Harry gave her hand a little squeeze. “And Firebolts have a tendency to climb if you don’t keep your concentration.”

George stepped forward. “Here, Ginny… I know it’s not as exciting as a Firebolt…” He handed her a small package. He grinned weakly at her, but it didn’t stick. Within moments, the same morose expression he’d been carrying for months reappeared on his face.

Ginny smiled up at her brother and tore open the package. Inside was a shiny metal frame containing a photograph of Ginny and Fred at the pond. Ginny was in a bathing costume, sitting on her brother’s shoulders. “Oh… I remember this…”

“You remember Fred, then?” George said, brusquely. “Good. In all the excitement I thought you might have forgotten him. It’s good to hear you managed to sneak a thought in about him in between getting all engaged and getting all grabby with your boyfriend! You and Ron both… ”

“George Fabian Weasley!” Molly began, outraged.

“No, Mum… I’m serious. All this… nonsense… this… Fred’s not even cold yet and they…” George waved vaguely at Harry and Ginny. “They’re acting like nothing’s happened. Like he doesn’t matter at all.”

Ginny dropped the picture and the broom to the floor as she stood. Sobbing, she ran upstairs. Hermione shot a poisonous look at George and ran after.

“George…” Harry stood slowly. His eyes burned with anger. “I don’t think…”

George reached forward. He bunched Harry’s robes in his fist and pulled Harry to him. “You need to shut up or I’ll shut you up.”

Harry pushed George away, back into Bill’s arms. “George… you’re drunk!”

“George…” Arthur stepped forward, beseeching his son.

“No… I don’t… want… I can’t do this. You all just…” George pulled himself out of Bill’s grasp, turned in place, and was gone.

“I’ll go look for him. He’s probably headed back to the shop. Harry, go calm Ginny down,” Ron said quietly. “Go check on Hermione, too.”

And with a loud pop, Ron was gone as well.

Chapter 16: While The Final Rattle Rocks...

The air around Ron Weasley cracked as he appeared from nowhere in the middle of Diagon Alley. The Alley was dimly lit this time of night, but wizards being what they were, it never truly closed. Passers-by took note of his arrival, but just as quickly dismissed him as just another night visitor to the Alley.

Ron sighed as he approached the door to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes. The front window was still boarded up from where it had been broken in by one of Voldemort’s followers. The boards blocking the broken window had the phrase DEATH TO MUGGLE-LOVERS! burned into them… but over that someone had charmed the words HARRY POTTER LIVES! and to Ron, the second phrase more than made up for the first.

But the boards still weren’t a good sign. The war had ended four months ago… George had plenty of time to get his window repaired and get the shop opened, but it was obvious nothing had been done. George lied to me, Ron thought to himself. Every time Ron had asked about the shop, George had reported that business was picking back up.

He’s obviously using a definition of the phrase ‘picking back up’ unknown to the rest of the world, Ron sighed again. This has to stop.

Ron tried the door and was unsurprised to find it locked. He peered past the fading paper adverts covering the door to see into the shop’s showroom. Dirt and dust were everywhere. Racks empty. Piles of merchandise from fallen shelves still on the floor… The place was a disaster area.

Ron removed his wand and tapped the knob. Alohomora, he intoned. The comforting click of the lock opening was conspicuously missing. He tried it again, this time giving the thought a bit more force. Still nothing. Well, I never really figured it would be that easy, now, did I, he thought.

Ron stepped back from the door and looked around. There were only a handful of people walking by, and none of them were paying too much attention. He looked toward the windows of the flat above the shop, where the Twins… and now George by himself… lived. There was a flickering light up there that might be a lamp…

Ron stepped back to the door. If this doesn’t work, I can always try a blasting spell, he thought. He tapped the doorknob again, muttering Evanesco. The doorknob disappeared, leaving an empty hole. Ron nodded and pushed on the door a bit tentatively. It swung open freely.

He pushed the door closed behind him and looked around. From the inside, the shop looked in even worse shape than from out. There were scraps of parchment everywhere, rubbish scattered about… and a rather foul smell coming from the shelves that normally housed the pygmy-puff cages. Shaking his head, Ron stepped into the backroom. He noted the lines of identical footprints going from the fireplace hearth to the door leading to the flat and back… but there were no lines of footprints leading into the shop itself.

Sighing at the squalor -- Ron couldn’t seem to stop himself from sighing near continuously — he opened the door to the flat and climbed the staircase. At least this looked a little better. Instead of the vacant dankness of abandonment displayed in the shop, the flat had the feel of grunge-filled neglect. Dirty clothes were in piles everywhere. Take out boxes and bottles — some empty, some only partially so -- covered nearly every flat surface. There were spills and stains everywhere, and from the acrid urine smell coming from somewhere in the flat’s sitting room, someone or something hadn’t quite made it to the bathroom.

"Ah, George… what are you doing to yourself in this place?” Ron asked the empty room. He found himself incapable of wrapping his mind around it. He’s screaming for help, but not in public, Ron thought. We should have noticed… He felt ashamed at the notion that perhaps George hadn’t been totally wrong; things had become involved, and the family had ignored the troll in the room.

Ron tucked his head into the bedroom. The contrast was remarkable… one side of the room was the same wreck as the rest of the apartment. The other had the clean, sterile look of a well-maintained shrine.

Still no sign of George.

The bathroom was less disgusting than Ron feared it might be. Dirty clothes were all over the floor, but at least the toilet had been flushed. Ron even peeked into the closets, looking everywhere he could think of that could hide a man of George’s size. Finally, he opened one closet door only to find it wasn’t a closet. The door hid a set of steps. Ron did some quick calculations in his head. If the store only has the two stories, this must go to the roof… He shrugged to himself and started up.

The staircase did, in fact, lead to the roof. Ron took a quick look at the moon, hanging over the shadowy outline of Gringotts, and the stars -- he had never been as appreciative of the night sky as Hermione, but he still thought it could be very pretty on occasion.

“George? Are you up here?” He stepped out, spinning in place to take in the whole rooftop. He spotted his brother immediately, sitting on the ledge with his legs hanging into the back alley. “George?”

“So… you’re who Mum and Dad sent? I figured one of them would come themselves.” George tipped his head back, emptying a bottle of something down his throat, and then tossed the empty down into the alleyway where it smashed loudly.

“I volunteered.” Ron approached slowly. Harry had said that George was drunk already, and finishing off a bottle on top of it while sitting on a precarious ledge couldn’t be a good thing.

“Ah.” George swung around faster than Ron liked, tipping dangerously before getting his feet back on the roof. “Come to tell me off? Come to stick up for your mate? Tell me how I’m wrong?” George leaned toward the rooftop and picked something up. It was only then that Ron spotted the bottles lined up against the roof’s short retention wall. There were at least five or six left.

“Want one?” George asked. “The Leaky Cauldron won’t sell firewhisky in bottles past eight. But there’s this charming little package store out on Charing Cross… Fine bloke… Hindu, I think… He set me right. Majestic something-or-other…” George twisted the cap off the bottle and pitched it over his shoulder.

“George… what are you doing?” Ron asked sadly. “You’ve got an entire lifetime to live and you’re…”

“I don’t want it.” George’s words brought a chill to Ron’s spine. “I don’t want it. I want it the way it used to be.”

“George, there are things in this world we have no choice over. Things that we never want to happen, but have to accept when they do. Things that we don’t want to ever know, but eventually have to learn. And there are people we believe we can’t ever live without, but eventually have to let go.” Ron swallowed, doing his ever best not to cry. “And that’s Fred. I didn’t want him to die, but he did. I didn’t want to have to learn to live without him, but I’m going to have to. And I don’t want to let him go, but I will.”

“Yeah, well that’s you, right? I’m not letting him go, ever. I loved him. Guess you didn’t.”

“George… I think you’ve had enough, mate.” Ron began. George’s words had begun a slow burning, and Ron didn’t want it getting out.

“I’M NOT YOUR BLOODY MATE!” George stood suddenly and threw the bottle at Ron, who ducked quickly. The bottle smashed somewhere behind him. “I was HIS mate! Not yours! You’re… you’ve… you don’t even care anymore. Like he never existed to you.”

Ron stepped forward. “George, come on. Let’s go home. You need to…”

“Shut your gob, Ron! I don’t need my ickle brother trying to come off all like my dad!” George was nearly screaming. “Don’t talk to me like you know anything, Ron! You don’t know shit!” George tried to step around Ron, heading for the flat.

Ron grabbed George by the arm, swinging him around with the momentum. “Come on, George… calm down, yeah? Everybody’s hurting from Fred’s death. Everybody.”

“My arse you are. You and Ginny and your engagements… like it’s just a lah-dee-dah… You don’t know what it feels like to lose…”

That was as far as George got. Without really realizing he was going to do it, Ron hauled back and punched George right in the teeth. George stumbled backward, finally tripping and falling flat onto the roof. Ron stood over his older brother, taking big gulps of air. Tears flooded his eyes. “Don’t you dare say I don’t know what it feels like to lose a brother, George. Don’t you fucking dare. Not if you don’t want another knock in the gob.”

“What’s the matter, Ron? Cut a little close to home?” George’s smile was bloody and awful. He climbed to his feet as quickly as he could, considering his lack of sobriety. “So little brother wants to play, does he? Okay, I’ll play.” The fist George threw was so slow and uncoordinated all Ron had to do was step back to avoid being hit. George spun in place and fell again. Ron could hear George’s head bounce off the roof’s tiles.

“Auh…” George sat up, slowly. He shook his head twice, then spit a mouthful of blood and spit to the side. “Well… guess that was the wrong thing to do. Never was much of a fighter…” He looked up at Ron and grinned. “I think I might be a little pissed.”

Ron stared for a moment, and then chuckled. He lowered himself to the roof, sitting next to his fallen brother. “You all right?”

“Yeah… just… pissed off… missing Fred.” George spit again.

“Yeah. Us too, you know. We’re all missing Fred. All of us.” Ron said. “We haven’t forgotten him, George.”

George stared at Ron disbelievingly. “You certainly don’t act like it. You’ve been quite busy getting engaged and making plans to go to Australia and going back to Hogwarts. None of you have shown any sort of grief over Fred.”

“Think so, do you?” Ron was tired of the entire who-is-grieving-more-deeply-than-whom game. “Let me tell you something, George… I can keep a stiff upper lip and pretend nothing’s wrong with the best of them. But then I see something -- someone makes a joke, or I see something that reminds me of Fred, or I even see one of your bloody adverts hanging on a post — and I collapse into tears like I was a baby.”

Ron’s voice was quiet. “We’re not going to get into who’s feeling worse than who, George. I’m not going to do it. Because what you’re mad at isn’t that we aren’t grieving… It’s that we’re not allowing it to stop us dead in our tracks.” He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s you, George. You need to pick yourself up and stop all this.”

“That’s a laugh. It’s right easy for you to say.” George said. “You’ve got Hermione. I see how you lean on her. She gets you through things. She’s like a crutch for you.”

Ron shook his head. “No, George… we get each other through things. We lean on each other. That’s what family’s for. That’s the entire point of being a family in the first place… You pick each other up when you fall. “

“I’ve been a right idiot, haven’t I,” George asked. “I expect Harry wants to hex me into next week. I deserve it. I’ve been a prat tonight.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.” Ron rubbed his eyes. “Besides, I don’t think they’ll get too mad at you. It’s not like the entire family isn’t in pain, just like you are.”

George gave a little laugh at that. “Yeah…” He ran a dirty sleeve under his nose. “But you’ve got better things to do than hang out with a waste like me, Ron. You’ve got that trip to Australia day after tomorrow. And I’m sure Hermione’s got better things to do.”

Ron sighed for what might have been the hundredth time that night. “George, just listen to me, all right? Listen. I love you. I’ll always love you. You’re my brother, and I love you. But this… This has all got to stop, George. No… It’s not easy. It’s damned hard. The hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life is wake up, every day, and tell myself to carry on. And that’s what you have to do. You have to carry on.”

George looked sick. “It’s hard, Ron. And I’m afraid, I guess. I don’t know what tomorrow is going to be like.”

“I know, George. If there’s one thing I’ve learned in the past year, it’s that. The hardest thing in this world is to simply live. Especially when all you want to do is curl up into a ball and die. It really is a scary thought.” Ron looked at the scars on his forearms. “And I know scary thoughts. It’s okay to be scared. But we’re Gryffindors, remember? We’re the guys who keep going, even when we’re terrified. If we let fear of the unknown stop us, we’d be Slytherin.”

George smiled at that, the first real smile of the night.

Ron slowly stood, then extended his hand to George. “Come on… let’s go back down to the flat.”

George took his hand. He was unsteady on his feet. “So… just live? That’s your great advice to your older brother who’s coming apart at the seams? Just keep living?” 

“It’s a start.” At George’s dubious look, Ron shrugged. “Well… let’s start smaller. Let’s get you downstairs and into a shower. Try and sober you up.” Ron took his wand out and looked over his shoulder. With a wave, the bottles all vanished. “I think you’ve had quite enough to drink tonight.”

As they approached the stairs, George suddenly turned to his younger brother. “Why are you so eager to help?”

“You’re my brother, George. I think you’re a prat sometimes, and right now I think you’re a great bloody idiot, but you’re still my brother.” Ron hitched George’s arm around his shoulder. “And because something Hermione told me last week. She found a book by some American wizard named Robinson. This bloke Robinson said that shared pain is lessened, while shared joy is increased. We need to get you some joy, mate.”

George staggered, but Ron caught him. “Some joy would be nice for everyone, I guess."

Chapter 17: It's Empty, Empty Cage

Hermione Granger found that she had to almost sprint up the stairs to keep up with Ginny. It wasn’t all that a surprise; Hermione had always been more bookish than athletic, and if there was one word that could describe Ginny Weasley, it was athletic. So it was that she arrived at Ginny’s bedroom just in time to have the door slammed in her face. From behind it Hermione could hear Ginny heaving long sobs. “Ginny!” Hermione knocked, gently. “Ginny, it’s Hermione. Can I come in?” Without waiting for an answer, Hermione stepped into the room.

Ginny was lying flat on her bed, crying into her pillow. She didn’t seem to notice Hermione’s entrance, for when Hermione sat next to her on the bed and stroked Ginny’s hair, Ginny shied away. “Ginny… are you going to be all right?” Hermione asked.

“He was right…” Ginny cried. “I forgot him.”

“Who, Fred? No you didn’t, Ginny. None of us has.” Hermione continued to stroke Ginny’s hair, trying to get the younger girl to calm down.

Ginny huffed. “I haven’t spared a thought for Fred in weeks.”

“Why do I doubt that?” Hermione asked. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You probably think of him all the time.”

“I don’t. I really don’t. I mean… Occasionally I’ll think of something he said, or I’ll see something and think he’d have enjoyed it, but I’m not really thinking of him.” Ginny sat up and wiped at her eyes.

“So you have been thinking of him after all. “Just because you’re not dwelling on Fred doesn’t mean you’ve forgot him. It just means you’re living. There is nothing wrong with living.”

There was a knock at the door, and Harry entered. “Ginny, are you okay?”

Ginny wiped at her eyes again. “I’ve been better. Harry, I’m sorry… I just…”

“No, it’s okay,” Harry said. He waved a hand, seemingly dismissing all concern. “George was drunk, yeah? I don’t think he meant what he was saying.” He turned to Hermione. “Are you okay?”

Hermione nodded. She was hoping Harry’s presence would calm Ginny and make her realize her feelings were real and appropriate. “Yeah, I’m fine. I was just worried about Ginny.”

Harry nodded. “So, Gin…”

Ginny was staring at the ring on her left hand. She twisted it around her finger in a loop, and then turned her attention to Harry. “You don’t think he was right, do you? That we’ve moved too fast?”

“No, Ginny… I think…” he began.

“Because I think he might have been,” Ginny blurted out, interrupting whatever it was Harry was trying to say. “I think we might be moving far too quickly.” She took the engagement ring off and stared at it. The inscription glittered bright enough to be read by all three of them.

Still staring at the ring, Ginny reached for Harry’s hand. He took her hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze. “Gin…” Before he could say anything more, she pulled his hand toward her and dropped the engagement ring into it. She curled his fingers around it, then let go.

He opened his palm. His eyes began to film over with tears as he stared into his hand.

“Ginny, don’t do this! You don’t want to do this!” Hermione begged. Her eyes were tearing up.

“Harry, I do love you. I will always love you. I haven’t stopped loving you. We just… need to wait. Right now, I can’t… I can’t be engaged right now. It’s not the right time to be thinking about getting married. Not right now. Not for me. I just need a little more time, all right?” She finally looked into his eyes. There was a pleading look in them.

Harry’s mouth moved, as if he wanted to say something. Tears were flowing from his eyes freely now.

“Please, Harry...” Ginny begged.

Harry stood, still staring at the ring. “I don’t know what to…” He swallowed, visibly. “Er… If… If this is what you… what you really want… I… Um… I will always love you, Ginny. If you could...” He turned toward the bedroom door, dropping the ring into the pocket of his blue jeans. “You waited a year for me. I owe you the time you need, after what I put you through.”

Harry stepped through the door and turned. “Ginny... I…” he began. “Nothing… Nothing I guess. I’m… I think I should leave. I love you, Gin.”

It was only then that he seemed to remember that Hermione was there. Hermione met his gaze and held it for a moment, and in that moment there was a depth of pain and loss and confusion that Hermione had never before experienced. “Harry…?” Hermione whispered.

He shook his head and closed the bedroom door behind him. Hermione and Ginny both jumped at the sharp CRACK that accompanied an Apparation.

“Oh, Ginny… don’t you know what you just did?” Hermione stared with a look bordering on horror. “The one thing Harry’s wanted most in the world is a family, and he wants that family to start with you! You just… You just… tore that away from him! Ginny…” She couldn’t continue the thought.

Ginny’s face contorted with sorrow. Ginny collapsed against Hermione, letting all her anguish out at once. Hermione cried silently, trying to be strong for Ginny while disconsolate herself.

She stroked Ginny’s back, shushing the younger girl like she was a baby. “It’ll be all right, Ginny… It’ll be all right.” Hermione absently wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “Everything will be fine. He still loves you, and you still love him, and in the morning you’ll both realize how silly this has all been. You’ll both see that this was all a big mistake.”

Ginny leaned off of Hermione, letting herself collapse to the bed. She wriggled over onto her side so she could see Hermione better and coughed into one hand. “No, Hermione… I have to. Even though I… I hurt him… And I know I hurt him… I had to do this.”

Ginny stood, holding herself as tightly as she could. “We just moved too fast, Hermione. I just… We both need to wait for a more appropriate time.” To Hermione, it seemed that Ginny was searching for a justification. “Everything’s so mixed up right now and we’re all pretending things are normal. But nothing is normal anymore. So close to Fred’s death and I’m thinking about getting married. That’s just… It feels wrong, somehow.”

“Why...because George says so?” Hermione asked, a bit more harshly than she intended. “George can get bent… I’m not ashamed of myself for accepting Ron’s proposal, and I refuse to allow him to be ashamed for asking me. You should be feeling the same way, Ginny. There is nothing wrong with falling in love and wanting to stay in love.”

“It’s not just George, Hermione. If it was just George, I think I could chalk it up to him being a prat and let it go. I just feel… It hurt. What he said hurt. And I think it hurt so much because I agreed with what he was saying.”

“Of course it hurts. I know it hurts, Ginny. It’s going to take time to get over, but don’t you think that you deserve to get over it? Don’t you think you deserve being happy together with Harry?”

She pulled Ginny close into a hug. “Don’t you think Fred would want you to be happy?”

Ginny shrugged. “Hermione, I still love him. I didn’t say I want to break up with him! I just need some time…” There was a flare of light in the center of the room, and a glittering object appeared out of nowhere. It dropped to the floor as both young women, fearing an attack, ducked backward, trying to find cover where there was nowhere to be found.

Hermione recovered first. She leaned over the camp bed she had frantically upended and poked the newly arrived object with her wand. Hermione looked up to Ginny, who was only just coming out from behind the hope chest at the end of the bed. “Ginny… I think it’s your ring…”

Ginny slowly approached it, only tentatively closing in order to finally pick the thing up. It was, indeed, her engagement ring. She could clearly read the lettering of the inscription. Harry and Ginevra, always. She stared at Hermione, open-mouthed.

“I thought he put it in his pocket... Didn’t he put it in his pocket?” Hermione wondered.

Ginny stared at the ring for a long, long while. “Harry and Ginevra, Always” she whispered. And without thinking about it she put the ring back on. Hermione smirked at her.

Ginny shrugged and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. “Okay, okay… so I’m weak-willed. I love him. You’re right. I can’t go through with it; I can’t just toss my relationship with Harry aside…”

“That’s fine, Ginny… Hopefully you’ll be able to tell him that before this blows up too far.”

XxxxxxX

Harry stepped out of the shadowed park across the street from Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He wasn’t quite sure why he came here, but he admitted to himself that, right now at least, he wasn’t thinking quite straight. Harry felt empty… as if someone had grasped him by his feet and squeezed everything out of him like toothpaste from a tube.

He walked across the street, hoping the door wasn’t locked. It wasn’t. Harry stepped inside, allowing the door to close quietly behind him. The place was a total shambles. He remembered hearing somewhere that Grimmauld Place had been thoroughly ransacked after he and Ron and Hermione had escaped, but the word “ransacked” just didn’t seem to cover the reality of the situation.

Everything that wasn’t nailed down had been taken, it seemed, and everything that had been nailed down looked to have been smashed. And what couldn’t be smashed -- Harry ran a finger across a section of wall that had once been covered by the portrait of Walburga Black, exposing a layer of soot — was set on fire. He quickly explored the various rooms on the ground floor, finding that they were all in similar shape. Despite having hated this place, its condition made him sad, somehow.

Harry stepped out into the front hall and sighed. There wasn’t much else he could do. “Kreacher! I have a job for you!” he called. In an instant, the house-elf was standing before Harry, making a deep bow. The ancient creature was dressed in a freshly pressed dish-cloth adorned with the Hogwarts logo, and seemed to have combed his ear-hair quite recently.

“Master has summoned his faithful elf. How might Kreacher serve Master Harry this even…?” Kreacher trailed off as he saw the destruction surrounding them. The tiny creature spun slowly in place. “Foul servants of the Dark Lord… look at what they have wrought in the house of my mistress.” Kreacher’s eyes finally landed on the burned out frame that once contained the last remnants of his dead mistress. With a howl of sadness and rage, the elf hurled himself repeatedly at the wall.

“Kreacher, stop! Calm down!” Harry ordered. The elf became motionless instantly. He was still heaving, gulping air and crying, but was no longer frantic. “Kreacher, I need your help making this place livable again. We need to get all this…” Harry gestured at the general destruction around them “cleaned up. I guess I’m living here from now on instead of the Burrow, and I don’t want to live in a disaster zone.”

“Kreacher will gladly help Master Harry repair the House of Black. Will be starting tonight, or does Master Harry wish to wait until morning?” Kreacher asked. “It is quite late, and if Master Harry will excuse Kreacher for saying, he looks quite tired.”

Harry grimaced. “Tomorrow. We’ll start tomorrow. Right now I want a drink. Do we have any firewhisky in the house, Kreacher?”

“Kreacher will check.” The elf replied, and vanished. He was back in a moment with a small amber-colored bottle containing a deep auburn liquid and a glass. “The foul servants of the Dark Lord couldn’t find the last bottle in the reserve, Master Harry. It had rolled under the racks.”

Harry took the proffered items. “That’s fine. I’m going into the parlor to think for a while, Kreacher. Can you make sure there’s a bed in reasonable condition somewhere? Or at least a mattress that’s not too bad I can kip on later?”

“Certainly Master Harry. It is my pleasure to serve such a noble and honorable master.” Kreacher bowed at the waist and vanished again.

Harry stepped into the parlor, eyeing the broken and overturned furniture. He casually kicked a smashed chair into the fireplace, and then lit it with his wand. Sitting, he poured himself a healthy glass of firewhisky and propped himself against the wall. She ended it. That traitorous voice in his head that was always delivering bad news and blame spoke in a thin, insidious voice. She wants nothing to do with you.”

Harry shook his head. That’s not what she said… she just needs time to adjust to everything. She still loves you; she just needs to take it slow. It sounded hollow somehow when he said it to himself. He took a sip of the whiskey, and for the first time in his life actually cherished the burn as it slid down his throat. It was a sensation other than shock and loss, and that made it good.

She’s never coming back. She threw you away. She gave the ring back. Even you know what that means. He hated that voice… the voice that said it was entirely his fault when things went wrong. But he couldn’t help but listen to it. I can give her back the ring. She didn’t say she didn’t love me… if I ask her again… Sometime in the future… When the time is right… She’ll…

He couldn’t convince himself. Angrily, he threw the glass into the fireplace where it burst in a shower of glass shards and flame. Don’t kid yourself. You blew it with her. You hurt her too deeply…

“Brilliant! Bloody brilliant!” Harry cursed himself. He took his wand out and waved it over himself, removing the glass that had sprayed out of the fireplace. Then he conjured another glass and poured himself some more.

Chapter 18: And I Can't Handle This

With a cry of terror, Harry jerked awake suddenly, skittering backward on his hands and knees, off of the mattress and onto the floor. He sat back on his haunches, confused for a moment, as if wondering what had happened to the nightmare images that had filled his head not moments before. It occurred to him that the last thing he knew for sure was that he was sitting with his back to a wall in the downstairs parlor. And he was fully clothed.

Ginny doesn’t want to marry me, he thought immediately.

Harry rubbed his eyes to stop the throbbing in his head and disentangled himself from the bedclothes that had followed him onto the floor. He blanched at the taste in his mouth. Some spectacularly foul beast had climbed down his throat as he slept and died, obviously. He wagged his tongue in and out of his mouth several times, supposedly in the belief that it might help. It didn’t.

Ginny doesn’t want to marry me. The thought came again, unbidden.

Groggily, he stumbled out of the bedroom and into the bathroom across the hall. The movement caused the throbbing in his head to increase. He did his best to swish and spit with water from the sink, but didn’t have a toothbrush… it was back at the Burrow and right now he was going to avoid that place like the plague.

Ginny doesn’t want to marry me. It echoed in his head, over and over.

Harry stumbled down the stairs to see Kreacher in the front hall, a broom already in his hands. The elf has already removed all the detritus from the floor and had apparently scrubbed the walls clean. When he saw Harry, Kreacher bowed low. “And how is Master Harry feeling this morning?”

I bloody well hate the entire world, how do you think I feel? Ginny doesn’t want to marry me. He wanted to shout at the insensitive little beast, but he knew it wasn’t Kreacher’s fault.

“Master Harry is feeling like he was honked up by a sick hippogriff, is how Master Harry is feeling. On top of it, I had a case of the screaming habadabs this morning. Woke up affright.” Harry stretched and yawned. “Please tell me there’s something resembling tea in this house.”

Ginny doesn’t want to marry me. The memory of her handing the ring back wouldn’t leave his conscious thought.

“Kreacher cannot tell you that, Master, for it would be a lie.”

Harry stared a Kreacher for a moment. He blinked several times, trying to dislodge the cement around their edges. “Is there anything edible in the house at all?” Harry asked.

Ginny doesn’t want to marry me because she blames me. It was an easy step to go from the one thought to the next.

Kreacher thought about it. “There is a nest of rats in the wine cellar… you would find those technically edible, Master Harry… but there hasn’t been something you would regularly consider edible since last night, when you finished the last bottle of Ogden’s.”

“Right… Right…” Harry stretched again and idly scratched himself. “I think I’ll get a shower. Then I think a trip to the grocer.” He yawned impressively, still trying to climb out of the nasty effects brought on by a combination of a hangover and a nightmare. “And then some breakfast. What do you think?”

She blames me for Fred. And because she blames me, she doesn’t want anything to do with me. He could feel himself slipping into a depression. It felt odd, on an intellectual level, to be conscious of sliding down into a black emotional hole. Usually it just happened.

Kreacher looked confused. Apparently the question surprised him.

“It was a rhetorical question, Kreacher. Don’t worry about it.”

The house-elf smiled thinly. “Very good, Master Harry.” The house-elf turned back to his labors as Harry struggled up the stairs. He reached the first landing and, hopping on one foot, disposed of his boxers. My house… I’ll wander around naked if I want, he thought as he stepped into the bathroom and started the shower. Bloody hell the water’s cold! Ginny doesn’t love me anymore…

XxxxxxX

With a loud crack, Ginny and Hermione appeared from nowhere in the densely wooded park across the street from Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Ginny let go of Hermione’s arm and looked around, making sure no one had spotted their appearance. She turned and looked at Hermione, then giggled.

Hermione tried her best to keep a straight face, but it was a losing battle. They both laughed. “Well how was I supposed to know she was his great-granddaughter?” Hermione asked no one in particular. “I mean, it’s not like I ever knew Old Tom’s last name was Abbott, now did I? It’s always just been ‘Old Tom’, hasn’t it? He’s been there forever…”

“Yes, well… perhaps when you asked Hannah why she was waitressing you shouldn’t have used the phrase ‘wasting your life at this dead end job’… I think she took offense at that.” Ginny smirked. “Let’s go see if Harry’s here.”

“He’s got to be here. The process of elimination alone says he will be here.” Hermione paused before crossing the street, looking both ways for traffic. Ginny simply strode out into the middle of the road. “Ginny… If you keep doing that you’re going to get hit by a motorcar and killed.”

“Keep doing what?” Still not looking, Ginny crossed the street to Number 12 and knocked. The enormous knocker, like almost every other decoration in this house, was shaped like a giant serpent. “I hope he’s here.”

“You know… now that I think about it rushing out like that probably wasn’t the best idea. We didn’t even leave a note for everyone. I mean, it was your birthday party…” Hermione said, hesitantly.

No one had answered the door yet. Ginny knocked again, harder this time. “Yeah, last night… this morning is just another day.”

“Ginny…”

“Hermione, look… They have cake, right? So they’ll be fine.” Ginny shrugged. “And we’ll be back before they know we’re gone, and will bring Harry back with us. So no worries…”

Ginny reached to knock again when Hermione said “I just wished I knew where Ron was. He wasn’t there when we left. I checked.”

“Probably went after George…” Ginny began as the door finally opened. She turned her winning smile to the door… but no one was there.

“Ah… it’s the blood-traitor and Master Harry’s Mudblood friend….” Kreacher said, sotto voce. He cleared his throat and spoke again, louder. “May Kreacher assist you?”

Surprised, Ginny and Hermione lowered their gazes. Kreacher stood in the open doorway. “Kreacher! Good morning! Remember me? Hermione Granger?” Hermione said. “

“Kreacher remembers.” The house-elf gave the girls his smallest, most-impatient-yet-still-minimally-polite smile.

“Kreacher, we’re looking for Harry… Is he here?” Hermione asked.

“I am sorry, but Master Harry is out at the moment. I’m sure he will be happy to see you when he returns. He shouldn’t be gone for more than another hour or two. Good day to you both.” He closed the door in their faces.

“He’s mellowed some, I see.” Ginny observed. Undeterred, the grabbed the knocker and rapped it against the door once more.

The door creaked open again. “Kreacher is sorry… Was there something else?”

“I really need to talk to Harry, Kreacher.” Ginny knelt to the elf’s eye level. “I really, really need to talk to him. I need to tell him… Can you tell me where he is, Kreacher?”

“He went to the grocers, Mistress.” Kreacher’s haughty smile slipped, and his eyes widened in shock. To Ginny it looked like he was honestly struggling with something. Almost unwillingly, he added “To refill the pantry.”

“Do you know which grocers, Kreacher?” Ginny looked up at Hermione. “If its close, we can just go…”

Hermione nodded. She had an odd look in her eye.

“No, Mistress… Kreacher was not told to which grocer Master Harry was going. He was ordered to help repair the house after what was done by the Death Eaters and that is all.”

Ginny stood. “Well… I guess we could wait here until he got back.”

Hermione looked up one end of the road, then down the other. She glanced at Kreacher and that odd look returning. “Perhaps we can wait inside. Go ahead and ask him. Or better yet, just tell him we’re going to wait inside.”

“Tell him… Hermione, what are you talking about?” Ginny was confused. She stared at Hermione for several seconds. “Fine… Fine…” she waved her hands dismissively. Ginny turned to Kreacher and knelt once more. “Kreacher, we’re going to wait inside for Harry. As I said, it’s important that I speak to him.”

Ginny expected the house-elf, who even at his best was less than cordial to her, to argue and resist. Instead, he stood aside and waved them inside. “Of course, Mistress.”

“Thanks, Kreacher.” Ginny smiled at the elf and stepped through the door with Hermione on her heels. They stopped in the front hall, wondering at how empty it looked without the serpent chandelier or the elf-heads, or Mrs. Black’s portrait. “What happened in here?”

“All the furniture… the portrait… Kreacher?” Hermione asked.

“The foul servants of the Dark Lord desecrated the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. They destroyed nearly everything, stole what they could, and even burned the portrait of my poor dear mistress.” Kreacher answered at once. “Master Harry and I have begun repairs and cleaning in anticipation of his living here full time.”

“He… He said he was moving back here?” Ginny and Hermione walked into the parlor, which still had overturned and broken furniture piled hither and yon, but no longer had grime and dust everywhere. “He didn’t say anything about that.”

“If you’ll excuse me for saying so, Mistress, I believe Master came to the decision last night, while he was drinking his dinner.” Kreacher stepped past them, carefully. “If you’ll excuse me, Mistress, I’ll return to my duties. There is much to do yet.”

“We can help, Kreacher.” Hermione said. She looked at Ginny. “It’ll give us something to do while we wait.”

Kreacher hesitated briefly. “As Mistress’ friend desires,” he croaked.

Ginny shrugged and took her wand out of her pocket. “Sure. Let’s get these couches and chairs turned back over and see if any of them are worth saving.”

Hermione nodded and withdrew her own wand. “By the way… Kreacher… Why are you calling Ginny ‘mistress’, all of a sudden?”

XxxxxxX

“Thirty-nine. Forty. Forty-one. Forty-two. There you go, Mister Abruthnot.” Harry put the money in the shopkeeper’s hand. “Now, are you sure there’s no extra charge for delivery?” He looked over the grocer’s shoulder, watching the man’s employees pack his purchases in boxes and bags.

August Abruthnot smiled. “No sir, Mister Potter, sir. It’s all part of the service. And I‘d right say I’d waive the cost for you in any case, seein’ it’s you an’ all. Now will you be taking delivery yourself?”

Harry shook his head. “My house elf, Kreacher, will accept delivery.”

“Very good sir, very good. I hope you find the Abruthnot Brothers acceptable and will come back next time you’re in need of your victuals, sir.” Abruthnot grinned, revealing a gap-toothed smile. He wrote something down on his sales pad. “We aim to please all our customers, so if there’s ever something you need, you jus’ ask.”

“I’ll do that.” Harry smiled and shook the grocer’s hand.

“So if there isn’t anything else we can do, sir… I was wonderin’…” Abruthnot stammered nervously. “Would you mind, sir? Could I trouble you for an autograph?” The man held up a folded piece of parchment.

Harry opened the parchment up, revealing one of the wanted posters the Death Eaters had hung everywhere. UNDESIRABLE NUMBER ONE! He looked up at August Abruthnot with a confused look. The grocer looked sheepish for a moment. “Sorry, sir… it’s the only picture of you I have, and it would mean the world to me. I supported you and the resistors during the war, sir. You can count on that! If it weren’t for them damned Death Eaters threatenin’ ta hex me, I’d never have hung that in my winder.”

Harry chuckled. “For you, Mister Abruthnot, I’ll do it. Just this once. If I can trouble you for your quill?” Harry took the feather and signed “To August, the Only Person I’d Ever Buy Groceries From! Your Friend, Harry Potter”. Harry suspected that within moments of his leaving, this parchment would be framed and hanging in plain view behind the counter, but it was okay. The man was so friendly and so hero-struck that Harry couldn’t help ignoring his irritation at the autograph request.

Harry shook Abruthnot’s hand one more time, waved at the stock clerks loading his packages, and stepped out into Diagon Alley. He wandered, looking for some sort of furniture outlet, but didn’t find one. Ah well, I’ll try Hogsmeade.

Harry noted with some surprise that George hadn’t actually opened the shop, despite words to the contrary. He stepped up and peered into the dimly lit shop and what he saw surprised him. Ron Weasley, wearing an apron, was sweeping up the dirt and trash. Harry knocked on the boards covering the broken front window, catching Ron’s eye.

Ron looked up, smiling when he recognized Harry. He gave Harry a “come on in” motion with his hands and went back to sweeping.

“Cleaning up, I see. Where’s George?” Harry looked around. The place looked like a storm had hit it. And what was that smell?

“George is indisposed. Look, Harry… I need you to do something for me…” Ron looked uncomfortable. “I need you to sign a writ or an order or something.”

“A writ or a… Ron, what on the wide world are you talking about?” Harry was puzzled.

“I want to rehire Verity and maybe a couple of other people… get them in here cleaning and setting up before Hermione and I leave for Australia. I’ve only got the rest of today and tomorrow to get them started. But I don’t really have the authority to hire people for the shop, do I? You’re technically a partner, so you can technically hire people.” Ron scratched the back of his head. “If you sign some sort of writ or something, you can give me authority to do all that.”

Harry thought about it for a moment. “I’ll do you one better. Got any money on you?”

“Money?” Ron looked confused. “I dunno… couple of Galleons, I guess.”

Okay, give me what you have. Is there a notepad somewhere?” Harry hunted around the sales counter, finally coming up with a notepad. He took a color-changing pen out the display and wrote out Received from Ronald Weasley the sum of… “How much do you have Ron?” Harry counted it out… the sum of Three Galleons, two Sickles, and five Knuts, in exchange for a 20 percent share of ownership in Weasley Wizard Wheezes, previously owned by Harry Potter. Then he signed it. “Sign under my name, Ron.”

Ron walked over and signed, then read the paper. “What? Harry… I didn’t want you to do that.”

“Call it an early wedding gift, Ron. This shop is almost a money-minting machine. If you get this shop up and running again, it will give you a nice little nest egg for you and Hermione to start a family.” Harry held his hand out to Ron, and the two shook enthusiastically.

So… Um… I’ve been wondering since I walked in… Where’s the doorknob?” Harry asked.

“Oh… I vanished it, so I guess it went wherever vanished objects go.” Ron said, dumping the contents of his pan into the dustbin. Now standing close to Harry, Ron sniffed. “Are you wearing the same clothes you had on yesterday? And why do you smell like firewhisky?”

“Er… Yeah.” Harry shuffled, a bit guiltily. “I spent the night at Grimmauld Place. I apparently spilled some on myself. No clean laundry.” Harry smiled a bit weakly. It was a lie, but the best one he could come up with in an instant.

That stopped Ron in his tracks. “Any particular reason, Harry?”

Harry was very carefully examining the floor. “She… er… Ginny… she gave the ring back. Said George was right and that it was too soon.” She doesn’t want me anymore. The thought echoed in Harry’s mind.

Ron threw the broom and the dustpan down. “Damn it! George was snackered! He didn’t know what he was saying! I can’t believe someone as headstrong as Ginny bought into that twaddle!”

“I don’t think it was just George. I think she’s still hurting and hasn’t wanted to admit it.” Harry shrugged, still not meeting Ron’s eyes.

“And how are you taking this?” Ron eyed Harry carefully.

“It hurts. But if this is what she wants… I’ll give her the time she asked for. Hopefully, when it’s all over, she’ll take the ring back.” Harry patted his pants pocket, and then froze. A bit frantically, he stuffed his hand into it. He did the same to his other pants pockets, then the back pockets.

Ron’s eyes widened. “Harry… You lost the ring, didn’t you?”

“I don’t… It’s got to be back at Grimmauld Place! Ron, I’ve got to go, now. Harry ran out the door and within moments had disappeared into nothing.

XxxxxxX

Harry rushed through the door and into the house at Grimmauld Place. He quickly searched the floor in the front hall, but it had already been cleaned and nothing was there. “Kreacher! KREACHER! I need your help finding…”

He went into the front parlor and stopped dead in his tracks. Hermione and Ginny stood on short step-ladders, each looking at him curiously. They had dirty cloths in their hands and had apparently been busily wiping down the walls when he came storming in at the top of his lungs.

“Er… Hello.” Harry could only stare at Ginny. She had captured him the moment he entered the room. But she doesn’t want you anymore. The traitor’s voice. “What are you doing here?”

With a pop, Kreacher appeared out of thin air. He was about to speak when Ginny waved him quiet. Harry never noticed.

Hermione looked at Ginny, who was just as enraptured with Harry. “We came looking… and Kreacher let us in, and we decided to assist cleaning up. He said you’d be back soon.” Hermione smiled at him. “So, Harry… What did you need finding?”

“Well… This is really embarrassing, but I got a bit… It doesn’t matter.” Harry shook his head grimly. “But I think I dropped Gin… I mean my mother’s ring. It’s got to be in the house, and I was hoping to get Kreacher helping me to look.”

Ginny stepped down from her ladder and very carefully pulled the glove from her left hand. She held her hand up, letting him see that the ring was right where Harry had put it. “You didn’t lose it. I had it.”

“You’re wearing…” She loves you, idiot… She’s not throwing you away. A completely different voice… the voice of his Father and Sirius and Moody and Arthur and Remus, the hero’s voice; it spoke to him this time. She wasn’t ever going to. “But I thought you wanted some time to…"

“Yeah,” said Ginny quietly. “I thought I wanted some time too… To, you know… Sort out my feelings about everything that was happening, but...”

“What do you mean? What was happening?”

“Everything. The war… Fred’s death… our engagement… everything.” Ginny smiled.

Harry felt like he could barely breathe. “And?”

She moved closer to him, until they were almost touching. “Harry…” she whispered.

He found his answer in her eyes and was able to breathe again.

Chapter 19: Let It Out And Move On…

When Harry offered his assistance to Kreacher in putting away the last of the grocer’s packages, Kreacher had smirked and agreed… and then did the entire job by himself. With a mere snap of his fingers, the dry goods floated onto the cupboard shelves, while the meat and other perishables went into the kitchen’s magically refrigerated cold storage. The entire job was finished in seconds. Shaking his head in amazement, Harry had held his hands up in surrender, swearing to never get in the elf’s way again. Instead, Harry found himself in the first floor sitting room with Hermione and Ginny, relaxing after several hours of hard work.

“Mmmmm…” Ginny purred. She sat on the floor between Harry’s legs as he rubbed her shoulders. “I’m sorry, Harry, but you are simply rubbish when it comes to giving backrubs. I’m afraid you’re going to have to practice at it. I’m thinking several times a week for the rest of our lives.”

“Well, if you insist,” Harry replied, softly.

At the other end of the couch, Hermione smiled and leaned back into the couch cushions. “I almost wish I could stay and assist you with the furniture, Harry. But I’m afraid are going to be up to you two. Tomorrow I have to finish getting Ron and I ready for the Australia trip.”

“Can I assume that means that you’re ready to go while Ron hasn’t packed a thing yet?” Harry asked.

“I admit nothing.” Hermione smirked.

“Of course you don’t,” Ginny said. Her eyes were closed and she was doing her best to stretch forward, allowing Harry access to the rest of her back. “You don’t have to.”

“I left him at the shop, trying to put things back together. It was a real mess.” Harry sat up for a moment and shook his hands. He then returned to his work on Ginny’s back. The front window was boarded up, still, and the merchandise was scattered everywhere. I think, though I don’t have any direct evidence, there was a mass die-off among the pygmy puffs as well.”

This caused Ginny to sit up, suddenly. “But George said he’d re-opened weeks ago! He said things were going swimmingly!” She turned to look Harry in the eye.

“Apparently he was lying. The shop hasn’t been inhabited since the twins had to abandon it.”

Hermione’s brow furrowed. “I hope he hasn’t forgotten…” She stood, suddenly. “I’ll head over… I should remind him we’re leaving.” She approached the fireplace, next to which Harry had hung a fresh jar of Floo Powder that had come with the groceries.

“Ah… It’s… Um… Not hooked up yet, Hermione.” Harry shrugged. “I need to go to the Ministry and attend to it. After the cock-up with Sirius, Dumbledore had it disconnected just in case. It’s never been reconnected to the network.”

“Well, that’s understandable. You’ve been busy. I’ll just Apparate from the stoop. Bring’s back memories,” Hermione said. When Harry made to stand, she waved him off. “No, don’t get up… I know the way. We’ll see you at the Burrow.”

“Bye!” Harry and Ginny’s voices followed Hermione out. They heard the front door close behind her, and Ginny fell back against the couch’s edge. She scooted her behind forward until her neck was level, and then lay her head straight back into Harry’s lap.

“You, Mister Potter, are going to have to go furniture shopping. You simply cannot go through life with a couch, a dining table, and a mattress. Not to mention, not a dish in the house,” she teased. “You can’t eat off the table… It’s simply not done in polite society.”

“I love you, you know that?” Harry asked, cocking his head to one side.

“Yes, you’ve told me once or twice,” she said.

He smiled down at her. “Have I?”

Ginny smiled back. “I think you lurve… Me… You want to kissss… Me… You think I’m gorrrr… Juss,” she sing-songed.

Harry chuckled and kissed her on her forehead. “Off your head, you are.”

She smiled again. “Yeah, but you love me anyway. So did you want to see about furniture this evening? We still have a couple of hours before Mum will have dinner ready. Hermione’s right… This place is dead empty… ”

“I suppose… Not much use in hanging around the house now that everything’s cleaned up. And at any rate I’m going to need to go back and get clothes… I’m still in the ones from yesterday.” Harry looked down at himself and made a face. “Kreacher did a fine job of laundering them, but they’re still the same clothes from yesterday.”

“So… First to the Burrow, so you can grab some clothes?” Ginny asked, climbing to her feet. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him into an embrace. “Ooh. No… First you’ll be off to the shower, then to the Burrow so you can grab some clothes. I’ll have Kreacher clean the ones you’re wearing while you’re washing. You, sir, smell like you’ve been working all day.”

“I truly hate to break it to you, darling, but you’re not precisely fresh as a daisy yourself.” He kissed her gently. “You can jump in when I’m out.”

“Okay, but only because you insist.” Ginny poked him in the ribs, gently. “Oh! Something I forgot… Hermione discovered something very interesting. Shall I show you?”

Harry looked confused. “Usually when she discovers something ‘very interesting’, I have to go off and fight some Dark Lord…” he muttered. At her sour look, Harry rolled his eyes. “What did she discover?”

Ginny merely smiled. “Kreacher, one moment, please,” she called.

With a pop, the house-elf appeared from nowhere. “How may Kreacher assist you, mistress?” Kreacher asked, bowing.

Without taking her eyes from Harry’s, she commanded, “Master Harry and I will be bathing soon. As we have no other clothing, we’ll both need what we are wearing laundered while we are each taking a shower. It’s very important that our clothes be cleaned and ready to be put back on before we’re each done bathing. Would that be a problem?”

“Of course not, Mistress Ginevra. Kreacher would be happy to serve.” The elf bowed again.

“Thank you, creature. Your diligence and hard work are greatly appreciated.” Ginny still hadn’t taken her eyes from his. Harry’s eyes had grown very wide. “That will be all for now.”

“Very well.” And with another pop, Kreacher was gone.

Harry was quiet for a while. “Mistress Ginevra?” he asked.

Ginny nodded.

“He’s taking orders from you. Not just acquiescing to your requests, but actually taking orders from you. That is interesting,” Harry said. “Did either of you ask him why?”

“Apparently,” she held up her left hand to show him the engagement ring, “I am considered part of your household, and thus someone from whom he must take orders. We experimented with it, actually.”

“What?” He laughed.

“I took off the ring and gave him an order. He still followed it. Hermione thought for a moment that it might be something having to do with me actually wearing the ring. It’s not.”

“Wait… You didn’t know about this?” Harry asked. “I mean… I didn’t know, but I figured…”

“Harry, my family has never kept house-elves. Mum wouldn’t have it, not being able to take care of her own house.” Ginny rolled her eyes at him. “I know everything you know… I might know a little more, but certainly not everything. You’re the first person I’ve really known to own a house-elf, after all.”

“Sorry,” Harry began, sheepishly, “I guess I’ve become used to you and your family being the source of all knowledge when it comes to the Wizarding world.”

“Now you know differently,” she said with a wry grin. “Now… Go upstairs. Shower. My turn soon.”

“Right.” Harry gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and went upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. He closed the bathroom door behind him, turned on the shower, and stripped down. Furniture… What kind of furniture… Never had to think about furniture before… When the water was finally warm enough, he stepped in. But mentally, he was still thinking, Furniture. Some more couches, maybe? A couple of tables? And what sort of dishes do I need?

His ruminations kept him pleasantly occupied for most of his shower, and he cleaned himself automatically, without thinking. Not really paying attention to his surroundings made what happened next all the more surprising.

“Budge up there, Potter.” A soft hand tapped him on the shoulder from behind as he was washing his hair. The effect of this contact would have compared favorably to loading Harry Potter into a cannon and lightning the fuse.

“YAAH!” Harry jolted, leaping forward into shower’s sidewall. Only the reflexes he honed as a Seeker kept him from losing his footing, though it was a close thing. “What the Hell is going… Ginny?” He kept himself facing the wall, taking tentative peeks over his shoulder with one eye. The other eye was held tightly closed against the soap-bubbles that were sliding down the left side of his face. “What in Merlin’s name are you doing in here? I’m… Naked!”

Ginny laughed. “I know that, Harry. I can see.” She came toward him, encircling his chest with her arms. Ginny pressed herself against him, which among other things let him know that she, herself, wasn’t wearing a thing either. “Calm down, Harry… It’s just a shower.”

“Ginny… This is… We promised your mom.” Harry was having trouble keeping the other eye open. The close proximity to the shower’s spray was making the soap in his hair run faster, and it was beginning to seep into his open eye. It stung horrendously.

“And we’re keeping that promise, Harry. But I never promised we wouldn’t do… Other things.” She hugged him again and let go. “Rinse your hair and let me have the water, would you?”

He sighed and stepped under the shower-head, still making sure he was facing the wall. He rinsed his hair out as best he could and kept his eyes tight shut. When he was done, he reached to his left, trying to find the shower wall. Keep facing the wall, and everything will be fine… He repeated this mantra in his head over and over.

His hand touched something soft and fleshy and giving and he jerked it back as if burned. “Um… Sorry…”

“Harry, open your eyes. If I didn’t want you to see me I wouldn’t have stepped in with you. Come on now… You’re being childish.”

He thought about it a minute, then opened his eyes, wiping away the excess water with his hand. Next to him, leaning against the shower wall, was Ginny Weasley in all her glory. He gulped nervously, his stomach in knots, and forced himself to turn toward her.

It was then he noticed that she was chewing on her lower lip, something she only did when she was very nervous. The fact that this was as wracking for her as it was for him helped to calm him down. She was staring at his face, but he saw her eyes dart downward, widen, and come back up to his face.

“Yeah… Sorry about that… It’s just…” Harry started. How to explain that reaction… Or should he even explain that reaction?

As if reading his mind, she said “It’s flattering, really.” Her arms were across her chest, just under her breasts, and it was obvious to Harry that she was getting more nervous by the minute. It was as if she was awaiting his appraisal.

Very gently, he took her in his arms and hugged her. “You’re very beautiful, Ginny.” He let her go and stepped aside and gestured to the water spray. “It’s all yours.”

Ginny stepped under the flowing water and hung her head forward. The motion allowed her hair to gather along the mid-line of her back as it became saturated. Harry became uncomfortably aware that it also became a focal line leading his eyes directly toward Ginny’s bottom, and that he was staring.

She turned around unexpectedly, and he found himself staring at some other part of her entirely. Harry jerked his eyes upward until they slammed, almost physically, into hers. She smirked as she stepped out of the way of the spray. “Care to hand me the shampoo, you 
naughty boy? “

He grinned at her. “Me, naughty? You’re the one who climbed into the shower with me.”

“True,” she admitted vaguely, “but I’m not the one who’s done bathing yet still hanging around, am I?”

Harry blushed to his toes. “You’re having fun teasing me, aren’t you?”

“Am I?” Ginny was carefully working up lather in her hair and carefully keeping her eyes away from his. It seemed to Harry to be a lot more work, what with her waist-length hair, than he would ever have with his own. Of course, he’d never worn his hair longer than just to the bottom of his neck. “Teasing you, I mean?”

She cast him a glance that was far more come hither than anything else. “Would you mind washing my back, Harry?”

“Wash your back?” Harry asked.

“I can’t ever seem to reach it all, yeah?” Ginny turned her back to him and pulled her hair over her shoulder so that it was in front of her. She smiled at him. “It’s okay, Harry. You’re allowed to touch me.”

“And your promise to your mother?”

“Harry,” Ginny laughed, nervously, “all you’re doing washing my back. You’re not getting into my knickers.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “You’re not wearing any right now, Ginny.”

Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re being impossible, Harry. Here.” She handed him the bar of soap.

With a tight grin, Harry coated his hands with soap and returned the bar to its shelf. Nervously at first, but with more confidence as he went on, he ran his hands across her back. He was amazed at the softness of her skin.

Chapter 20: Missing What's Gone

“So… what sort of things are you looking for?” Ginny gave Harry’s hand a squeeze. Holding hands, the couple rounded a corner onto the main street in Hogsmeade. They’d Apparated into one of the village’s side alleys, correctly thinking that it would allow them to avoid any unnecessary surprises created by suddenly appearing out of nowhere on a busy thoroughfare.

“I really have no idea. I’ve never bought furniture before. Never needed to, have I?” Harry shrugged. “I’ve never owned a house of my own before.”

“And now you have five. I suppose you’ll be buying a lot of furniture.” She smiled at him again. They were doing that a lot as they walked… every other second was spent looking at each other. It was almost as if the volume had been turned up on their relationship.

“Not really. The house in Douglas… That’s the one the Dursleys are at, yeah? That one’s already furnished. And I don’t even count Malfoy’s house.” Harry’s face suddenly became dour. “I don’t like what happened to them, to tell you the truth.”

Ginny lost all humor. “I don’t know why you’re being so sympathetic. If you ask me, they deserve everything that’s happening. Lucius and Draco in prison, Narcissa a pauper… couldn’t happen to a better set of folks.” She let go of Harry’s hand and crossed her arms across her abdomen, in classic “Ginny-defense” pose. It told Harry just how upset she actually was… not to the point of screaming of hexing him, but definitely not ready to start a snogging session.

“Ginny…” Harry sighed and stopped walking. “If it weren’t for Narcissa, I’d likely not be here. I owe her a life-debt. And Draco… I admit I hate him. He’s always been an arrogant, bigoted wart on the arse of the Wizarding world, but he’s not his father. I don’t think it was ever in Draco to really be a Death Eater, and I think he only joined out of fear. It was either that or be killed… or worse watch his parents be killed because of him.” He rubbed his forehead absently. “Look, can we discuss this later? I’m sorry I brought it up.”

He held his hand out to her, a neutral expression on his face. After a long moment, she took it and they continued walking. The silence grew thicker and thicker as they went. Absently, Harry began randomly looking into the shops they were passing. Half of them he’d never been to. While he was at Hogwarts, if it wasn’t one of the inns, or Honeydukes, or Zonko's, the other buildings might as well have not existed to Harry. They were still walking quietly when the boy ran up to them out of nowhere. He was small, perhaps only ten or eleven years old, and seemed to have the nervous energy and boundless enthusiasm of all children that age.

“’scuse me… but are you Harry Potter?” The boy was nearly bouncing up and down in excitement. The entire thing caused Harry to smile, and a quick look at Ginny revealed that she was having a hard time keeping her face straight.

“Er… Yes, I’m Harry Potter. What’s your name?” Harry knelt to bring himself to the child’s eye level.

The boy’s face lit up. He twisted around to yell at a pair of adults who were hurrying up behind him, embarrassed looked on their faces. “Mum! Da! It’s him! It’s really him!” He spun back around to face Harry so quickly that for a moment Harry thought the child might actually damage himself. “I’m Ernie Stebbins! That’s me Mum and Da! Would you sign this? Please?” A pentagonal card was abruptly thrust at Harry, who took it in surprise.

“What is it, Harry? Oh my, look at that… It seems you’re famous, Mister Potter.” Ginny was obviously suppressing a case of the giggles.

Harry stood, and once again rubbed his forehead. In his hands was a Chocolate Frog Card bearing his own name and likeness.

HARRY JAMES POTTER
Order of Merlin, First Class
“The Boy Who Lived”

Considered by most to be the Savior of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter is best known for twice defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, once when he was an infant, the second and final time as an adult. Mister Potter is an avid Quidditch player, and was the youngest player on the Gryffindor House team in a century.

“I don’t remember posing for this picture…” Harry said, blankly. He felt as if the ground had been pulled out from under him.

Ginny took pity on him. “He’d be glad to sign it for you, Ernie. Do you or one of your parents have a quill?” Ginny said, enjoying Harry’s confusion. The boy looked to his dad. Ernie’s father, who along with the child’s mother was now smiling at Harry and Ginny, nodded and reached into his jacket.

“Thanks, Harry Potter!” The boy was all but bouncing in place as Harry signed the card. “Wow… fink of it! Meeting Harry Potter! None of my friends are goin’ to believe it!”

“Well…” Harry began, finally finding his footing, “… none of my friends are going to believe I met the famous Ernie Stebbins!” He knelt again and handed the boy his card. “So, are you going to Hogwarts yet?”

“I was supposed to start last year…” Ernie was busily studying the card “… but my Da took us to Spain instead and I didn’t go to school at all. I fink my Mum was sick, because Da said sumfink about the climate in England wadn’t good for her.”

Harry looked over at the boy’s head toward his mother and father. He met her eyes and nodded, understanding completely. “Well, I’m glad she could come back now that it’s better for her here.”

“Yeah, me too! Now I can go to Hogwarts like my friend Drew!” Ernie tucked the card into his pocket. “He’s going to be a year ahead of me, because he got to go to school last year, but that’s okay. He’s a Huffiepuff, like my Da, but I fink I want to be a Gryffiedor, like you, Harry Potter.”

Behind him, Ernie’s dad began to look distinctly uncomfortable. “Ernie, we should let Mister Potter and his friend go on with their business.” The man put a hand on his son’s shoulder.

Harry smiled and ruffled the boy’s hair. “Being a Hufflepuff wouldn’t be so bad. Some of the best people I’ve ever known were in Hufflepuff, in fact. I’m sure whichever house you end up in will be glad to have you.” Harry held out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Mister Stebbins. Mrs. Stebbins.”

“Oh, the pleasure is all ours, I’m sure.” Stebbins’s handshake was a bit more enthusiastic than the situation warranted. “I can’t tell you how thankful… My wife, you see, she’s a… Well… That’s all over now, I suppose. Don’t have to worry about such things, all because of you.”

Inside, Harry was cringing, but he kept it off his face. “No, it’s my honor. I only did what anyone would have done.”

Ernie’s mother looked at Ginny while she briefly took Harry’s hand. “Is this… um… is this the young lady I read about recently? The one you… um… I read an article in Witch Weekly that said…” She was obviously embarrassed to be asking, but her curiosity was just as obviously getting the better of her.

Harry nodded. “Yes, this is my fiancé, Ginny.”

Ginny smiled. “Very nice to meet you.”

“Well… I’m sure you’re very busy, so we’ll leave you alone. Thanks for…” Stebbins waved toward his son. “We just bought him the Chocolate Frog at Honeydukes just now, and when he saw you, he… well…”

“I understand, and it’s no worry. Have a good day!” With that, Harry took Ginny’s hand. With a wave to Ernie Stebbins, they continued down the street.

“I suppose I’m going to have to get used to being the wife of a celebrity,” Ginny said with a grin.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Being a celebrity has never been something I’ve been overly fond of.”

“And yet you handled it perfectly,” Ginny pointed out. “I’m sure it’s not the first time you’ve been asked for an autograph.”

“No… the first time would have been Second Year. Colin Creevey took that picture and asked me to sign it.” Harry sobered a moment at the thought of Colin. “In hindsight, maybe I should have just signed the bloody thing for him.”

Ginny looked thoughtful. For a long time she was simply quiet. “Harry…” She fell silent again, as if dreading what she was about to say.

“Yes, Gin?”

“Why… Oh, Merlin, I shouldn’t be asking this.” Ginny bit her lip. “Why do you want to marry me? I mean… you’re the Boy-Who-Lived. You could quite easily have your pick of any witch in Britain and you bloody well know it!” She wagged her finger at him as the grin spread across his face. “I don’t come from a wealthy family; I might be pretty but I know I’m not beautiful; I’m not all that feminine when it comes down to it; I’m covered in freckles everywhere…”

“This is true… I have first-hand knowledge of that,” Harry interrupted. He was finding this amusing, and it was obviously beginning to annoy her.

“Shut it, you! I’m serious!” Ginny sighed dramatically. “I’ve got a horrible temper; I have no idea at all what I want to do with my future… You could do so much better than me. Hell, you have done better…”

Harry stopped laughing, finally realizing that this was actually worrying Ginny. “Well, let’s see…” he said as nonchalantly as possible. “You’re kind; you go out of your way to protect and care for those you love; you’re amazingly talented; you’re clever; and whoever told you that you weren’t beautiful lied to you. I know that I could have my pick of any girl I wanted, for the most part. What does it tell you about yourself that I chose you?” He raised an eyebrow at her.

She stared at him for a long moment, and then leaned in to kiss him. “It tells me you’re a nutter.”

“Absolutely correct! “ Harry laughed. “Oh, hold on… let’s step in here right quickly…” He dragged her through the door of Honeydukes. “I’m a bit peckish and haven’t had any sweets in too long for me to remember. Thought I might pick up a couple of Chocolate Frogs… I hear Harry Potter has a card now, and I need him for my collection!”

XxxxxxX

“So… when do you want to get married?” Ginny’s question, coming out of the blue as it did, caught him by surprise. He nearly choked on his candy. They’d emerged from Honeydukes noshing; he was popping Bertie Bott’s Every-Flavor Beans into his mouth, one at a time, while she made short work of a square of peanut-butter fudge.

“What?”

“When do you want to get married, Harry? We really should be thinking of dates, seeing as we’re engaged.” Ginny took another bite of her fudge. “It’s a bit of a tradition, actually, that when a couple get’s engaged they decide on a date by which they’ll stop being engaged and actually becomes a married couple.”

“I… er… haven’t really thought about it, yet.” Harry carefully examined his last Every-Flavor Bean, holding it between his thumb and fore-finger. It was an odd, off-yellow color. In his experience, off-colors usually spelt bad news. Pure white, like the white of snow, for example, was usually coconut or whipped cream, or milk… something tasty, in other words… while egg-shell white was almost always something like spoiled milk. Pure, bright yellow might be banana, or lemon… an off-yellow… If I’m lucky, it’s some unusual fruit flavor, or maybe some kind of cheese. “Why? When do you want to get married?” If I’m not lucky… it will turn out to be something like urine.

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “How about tomorrow?”

Ugh! Squash! Harry controlled the urge to spit the bean out and stopped stock still. “Tomorrow? Molly would kill me!”

“Well, maybe not tomorrow, then. But the sooner the better,” Ginny said. “Give it some thought, please? Some serious thought? This is important to me.”

“Ginny,” Harry began. He discarded several different thoughts before continuing. “I promised Arthur that we’d wait until you were out of school, at the very least, remember?”

“I remember, Harry. You made that promise without asking me what I thought or what I wanted,” Ginny said.

“Come on, Ginny… you don’t really want to be the only married student at Hogwarts, do you?”

“No, but…” Ginny sighed “… maybe I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts. No one asked me… they just assumed I was going to go. Everyone just assumed, even you.”

Harry was dumb-struck. “Well, of course you’re going back. We all are!”

“Are we?” She asked. “Are we really? I don’t know if you’ve talked to Ron, but every time the subject is broached, he gets very, very quiet and avoids answering any questions. I don’t think he wants to go back to school, Harry, and I don’t think I want to, either.”

“But… you have to go back to school, Ginny,” Harry said, finally.

“Why?”

“Because you… um… well… N.E.W.T.S. You have to get your N.E.W.T.S., right? You need them to get a good job.” The idea of Ginny not being at Hogwarts when he returned to finally complete his Seventh Year -- a year in which they both would be Seventh Years — disturbed Harry greatly.

He stopped walking and turned to her. Ginny looked to be on the verge of tears and he hadn’t noticed in his surprise. He pulled her into his embrace. “Ginny, it’s okay. Just… tell me why you don’t want to go back.”

“I just… can’t, Harry. I can’t. I can’t go back and study and pretend that everything didn’t happen. What am I supposed to do? Walk down a corridor and somehow not think ‘Oh, this is the place where a Blasting spell hit Colin Creevey, knocking him through a hole in the wall where he fell five floors to his death’, or ‘Oh, this is the exact spot where the wall exploded, killing…” she trailed off. “I just can’t go back there.”

Harry could feel her tremble. He stroked her hair, gently. “Shhh shhh shhh… It’s okay. It’s okay. You don’t have to go back if you don’t want to. You’re old enough to make up your own mind about things, and if this is what you’ve decided, I’ll… I’ll not go myself. You were really the only reason I ever considered it in the first place.

She pulled back and wiped at her eyes. “Mum’s going to kill us both.”

“I know. I’ll be there with you when you tell them.” He kissed her. “It’ll work out.”

“How?” She asked.

“I have no idea, but I have faith that it will.” He smiled at her. “So… are you okay? Should we call off the trip? Because we seem to be here.” Harry waved behind her, toward the sign that read “Ragsdale’s Fine Furnishings.”

“Sure… let’s go in. I’ll be fine.” Ginny gave him a weak but genuine smile. He smiled back and held the door open for her. From inside the shop came the slightly must odor of wood varnish. Inside the shop were seemingly endless numbers of tables, chairs, dressers, sideboards, chests, wardrobes, cabinets, and beds. This was certainly the place to go.

A sales clerk appeared from behind a full-length mirror. “Welcome to Ragsdales! Come in, come in! My name is William! I assure you, if you’re looking for furniture, we have what you Holy bloody Hell you’re Harry Potter!”

Ginny turned to Harry and smirked. Harry brought his hand up and rubbed his eyes.

XxxxxxX

"…And he comes up to us with a big, smarmy smile and goes into this speech that I am sure was rehearsed in front of a mirror several times when he suddenly blurts out ‘Holy bloody Hell, you’re Harry Potter!” Ginny laughed. “You should have seen him…The moment he recognized Harry we couldn’t get rid of him. He offered us butterbeer, and biscuits, and was so ridiculous…”

Harry was glad Ginny found it so amusing. He looked around the Weasley’s dining table, looking for someone who could soothe his embarrassment, but unfortunately it was not to be. Arthur looked as if he was going to explode from suppressed laughter. Molly was covering her mouth with a dish-towel and looked to be on the verge of crying. Ron was howling, not bothering to hide it at all, and Hermione, like Ginny, had a bad case of the giggles.

Harry took a sip of his pumpkin juice and dug back into his dinner. He tried to keep up the demeanor of scandalization, but couldn’t keep it up. Eventually, he too broke down into laughter.

‘The worst bit…” Harry added “… was when he had me sign a blank receipt, just in case he lost the original. If he wanted an autograph, he should have just asked.” He chuckled at the thought. “As it was, though, I think I got a nice discount on the furniture.”

“Do tell them about Ernie, Harry,” Ginny prompted.

“Oh? Was MacMillan in Hogsmeade, Harry?” Ron asked.

“No, no… We were walking through Hogsmeade, looking for the Furniture Shop, when this boy ran up to us. His name was Ernie, and he wanted me to sign his Chocolate Frog Card,” Harry said, hurriedly. “He seemed like a nice enough kid. His parents were okay, I suppose.”

“He wanted you to sign a Chocolate Frog Card? Whatever for?” Hermione was puzzled.

“No, not sign a Chocolate Frog Card. Sign his Chocolate Frog Card.” Ginny nodded toward Harry. Every eye at the table turned toward him, and he blushed to his toes.

“Harry…” Arthur began “… do you mean to say that they put you on a Chocolate Frog Card?” The Weasley patriarch smiled as wide as he could. “That is simply brilliant! Absolutely marvelous!”

“That’s very nice, Harry,” Molly chimed in.

“Well, one more thing, I suppose.” Even while happy for his best friend, Ron looked a bit disgruntled.

Ginny stood from the table and walked into the parlor. She was back quickly. As she sat back down next to Harry, she slid a Chocolate Frog Card across the table to Ron. “We stopped off at Honeydukes and picked up a couple of things.” She slid a similar card over to Hermione.

Ron picked it up the card, and his jaw fell so far in surprise it nearly hit the table. The card read:

RONALD BILLIUS WEASLEY
Order of Merlin, First Class

Ronald Weasley, Best Friend and Constant Companion to Harry Potter, was one of the central figures in the war against He Who Must Not Be Named, and was one of the leaders among student forces at the Battle of Hogwarts. Mister Weasley is noted for having been a Keeper on the Gryffindor House Team, and is recognized for his skill with a chessboard.

Hermione, reading her own card, laughed. “Now I know what Professor Dumbledore meant when he said that everything was fine as long as they didn’t take him from his Chocolate Frog Card.”

“It is a bit like Christmas, yeah?” Ron said.

Chapter 21: They Say Life Carries On And On And On…

HERMIONE JANE GRANGER

Order of Merlin, First Class

Hermione Granger, Friend and Advisor to Harry Potter during his long war against He Who Must Not Be Named, was one of the founders of the student resistance movement at Hogwarts during the last year of You-Know-Who’s reign of terror. Miss Granger is widely recognized as the brightest witch of her generation Hogwarts has ever produced. She is the first Muggle-Born ever to be recognized with a Chocolate Frog Card.

“So, I’m merely your friend and advisor, Harry?” Hermione asked sardonically. “I feel so marginalized.” She couldn’t help the grin that had crept onto her face.

"I didn’t write the stupid thing, Hermione,” Harry said in response. The recognition still made him slightly uncomfortable.

Ginny brought out one last card. “If you really want your head to spin, try this one.” She passed the card to Hermione, who read out loud:

NEVILLE FRANCIS LONGBOTTOM

Order of Merlin, First Class

Neville Longbottom, one of Harry Potter’s chief lieutenants during the Hogwarts insurrection against He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, was one of the primary leaders of student forces at the Battle of Hogwarts. He remains one of only three people (other than Albus Dumbledore and Harry Potter) to single-handedly duel You-Know-Who and survive, and, along with his close friend Harry Potter, is one of the only two people to have borne the Sword of Godric Gryffindor in combat in the last three hundred years. Mister Longbottom is a recognized Herbology expert.

Ron shook his head, still grinning from ear to ear. “They make it sound so much cooler than it was in real life. Don’t they know that it was mostly just terror and no time to think?”

“Of course they don’t, dear… that’s the point,” Molly answered. “People need heroes so they can remember the good that comes from such bad times.” She sighed, deeply. “I suppose I’ll just have to get used to having so many heroes in the family.”

“So says the holder of an Order of Merlin,” her husband chided her gently. There was a sound from the door as someone knocked on it lightly. “I’ll get that.” Arthur rose and left the kitchen.

“Tut… that’s not what I meant and he knows it.” Molly scowled. “I’m proud of all my children, and proud of what they’ve done. I don’t need medals and Frog-cards to see how special they are. I’ve known you were all special since the moment you were born. Well, not you, Harry, but I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“I do… thank you,” Harry chuckled.

“Yes, but it does raise the question. Everyone in the Weasley family received an Order of Merlin of one class or another. I know Harry had something to do with it, but I can’t think of how he pulled it off.” Hermione got up and began clearing dishes into the sinks.

“He asked me.” Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared at the kitchen doorway. “May I join you?” he asked, gesturing toward the table.

“Certainly, Minister… certainly!” Molly rushed to clear him a space.

“Kingsley, Molly. Kingsley. We’ve known each other too long for all this ‘Minister’ folderol… especially when it’s in your own house,” Shacklebolt smiled. “I wanted to speak to Harry, and figured that it’s been a while since we all visited anyway, so we could kill two birds with one stone. Hello, Harry!”

“Minister.”

“It’s Kingsley to you too, Harry.” Shacklebolt studied Harry for a moment. “Sweet Merlin, Harry… You look like some creature rushed up and shat in your porridge. What’s wrong?” As his only response, Harry handed over a copy of his Chocolate Frog Card, causing Shacklebolt to chuckle gleefully.

“Get used to it, young man. Celebrity is what you make of it.”

“Minister… Sorry, Kingsley… What do you mean, he asked you?” Hermione wasn’t quite sure she heard correctly earlier.

“Just so… He originally wanted everyone who fought at the Battle of Hogwarts to receive one, or else he’d refuse his. There’s no way I’d have not given one to Harry, so I negotiated. He finally presented me with a list of twenty or so names of people he insisted receive a medal. Every member of the Weasley family was on the list.” Shacklebolt sat back, as if that explained everything.

“I did notice…” Harry said with an element of bitterness in his voice, “… that not everyone on that list got an award.”

“Snape?” Hermione asked. When Harry nodded, she continued. “Not surprising, really, given everything. But there’s always a chance that it could happen later on.”

“Now, now…” Molly interrupted. “I’m sure Kingsley hasn’t come all the way from London to talk about medals and Chocolate Frog Cards.”

“Indeed… I actually came to speak to Harry, Ron, and Hermione, specifically about their plans for the future. Other than nuptials, I mean… I saw the article in Witch Weekly; my executive secretary is an avid reader, you see.”

“The day after tomorrow, Ron and I are leaving to retrieve my parents from Australia, and then two weeks after we’ve got start of term at Hogwarts!” Hermione relayed enthusiastically. “We’ve all been given a chance to take our Seventh Year and get our N.E.W.T.S. out of the way.”

Harry didn’t say anything, but gave Ginny’s hand a squeeze under the table. She looked at him and smiled, thinly. Thinking back to what Ginny said about Ron, Harry searched his best mate’s face and saw… something deep and troubling. Ron’s face was as blank as Ron could ever make it… but Harry could tell from long association that he was hiding something that was bothering him.

Kingsley was nodding. He, Molly, and Arthur… not to mention Hermione, who tended to always be unobservant when the subject of learning and education came up… were all unaware of the emotional turmoil going on around them.

“And what about the long term?” The Minister of Magic asked. “What do you plan on doing after school?”

Again, Hermione spoke first. “I was thinking about going into the law, to be frank. It was actual Rufus Scrimgeour’s idea… at first I told him I wasn’t interested, but now… I’ve been reconsidering.”

Again, Kingsley nodded. “And Harry and Ronald? I’ve been told by Headmistress McGonagall that both of you spoke previously about your wish to perhaps someday become Aurors. Is this true?”

Harry sat up in his seat. “Yeah, it’s true. I’ve wanted to become an Auror ever since Professor Moody… well, the false Professor Moody… Barty Crouch Junior, in fact… told me that I had the makings of being a good one.”

Shacklebolt laughed at that. “Wait… Are you really telling me that a Death Eater, disguised as your Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor, set you on the path to perhaps becoming an Auror?”

“Well, yeah,” Harry chuckled. “You see… while it was true that he was a murderous lunatic, he was actually a pretty good teacher... we all have had a good laugh at how he actually taught us quite a bit about Defense. I certainly learned a lot of what I needed to know later on about defending myself and resisting curses from him. So yeah, he was a good teacher. Up until the point that he tried to kill me, of course. He told me I’d make a good Auror. He said the same thing about Ron.”

“I see… well… I can’t say I disagree.” Shacklebolt picked at one of his thumbnails for a moment. “Harry… the problem is the war nearly depleted our force of Aurors, and some of the ones who remain I cannot honestly trust fully. I need some new blood in the system, and some new eyes on the problem. That’s where you, and Ronald, for that matter, come in.” The Minister took a deep breath. “What if I could guarantee you a position with the Aurors straight off? I’d ask that you undertake some training to fill in the gaps with what you already know, but I don’t think you’d need the full two year training course. Would you be willing to join me at the Ministry as an Auror?”

“Absolutely!” Harry said. “How about you, Ron?”

All eyes turned to Ron, who had suddenly become very quiet and withdrawn. He was trying to avoid looking Harry in the eyes. “I… I don’t know anymore. I’ve been thinking about a lot of things that have happened over the last several years. And about things that are going on right now. And I’m not sure I want to be an Auror anymore.”

“Ron?” Harry sounded… if it was possible… both betrayed and supportive.

“Harry, we’ve effectively been working as unpaid Aurors for the last seven years. Since that time with Quirrell and the Stone. I have nightmares about things a child never should have been a part of. And I have nightmares about dying alone in some rutty dungeon by myself, leaving Hermione and… and… our children… all alone.” Ron blushed, and then sniffed and wiped at his nose with his sleeve. “I don’t know… maybe, eventually, later on I might change my mind. But for right now… I think I want to hang around and help George get back on his feet. Work in the shop some and see what happens. I think I want peace and quiet for a while.”

Hermione took his hand in both of hers and held it close to her. “I can think of nothing I’d like to do more than be the wife of a shop-keeper.”

“I think it’s a good prospect. Its honest labor, and ever since Harry sold me his share in the business, it’s not like I’ll just be drawing a clerk’s salary,” Ron said defensively.

“Its fine, Ron. Really.” Hermione leaned over and kissed him.

“Yeah, but Hermione…” It was obvious that this was what he had been dreading “… I don’t think I’ll be going back to Hogwarts after all. Wait!” Ron held up a hand, forestalling Hermione’s reaction. She had opened her mouth, but shut it just as quickly. “I’m not going to need my N. E. W. T. S. if I’m just going to be a shop-keeper, Hermione, and my N. E. W. T. S. were the only thing drawing me back to Hogwarts. Otherwise… it’s just a continual reminder of the war for me.” Ron shrugged. “I’m sorry if I let you down.”

Hermione kissed him again. “I’m a little disappointed, but I understand. So it will just be Ginny, Harry, and I at school this year. You can still visit on weekends, I’m sure, and I’ll write. We’ll work it out.”

“Actually, Harry…” Kingsley sounded hesitant. “What I was thinking about was having you start as an Auror in lieu of finishing your schooling. In my opinion, your life experience more than makes up for the lack of N.E.W.T.S.; in fact, I can’t think of anyone more qualified that you three for immediate deployment as Aurors, except perhaps Neville Longbottom and he’s already turned me down. If I can only get one of you, I’ll take it. So… what do you think?” He grinned, and then added, “I’ll even toss in the Apparation licenses you three have forgotten you’re suppose to acquire before Apparating all over England.”

Harry looked at Ginny for a long while before answering. “Kingsley, I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit to questioning the wisdom of my going back to Hogwarts. If you want to take me on without my N.E.W.T.S., I’ll give it a go.” He turned to Hermione. “Sorry about that,” he said, sheepishly.

“I feel the same way as Ron does,” Ginny exclaimed out of nowhere. “I can’t go back. I’m sorry, it’s just too painful.”

“Ginevra Molly Weasley! What kind of talk is that? Of course, you’re going back to Hogwarts!” Molly Weasley was shocked and angered. “I’ll not hear of…”

“Mum, you can’t make me go back if I don’t want to. I’m of age now, and I… CAN’T… go back there! That’s final.” Ginny was on the verge of tears.

“THAT’S CERTAINLY NOT FINAL! I WON’T HEAR OF…”

Harry stood up, pulled Ginny from her chair, and whispered in her ear. She nodded, crying, and ran out the kitchen door.

“YOU COME BACK HERE, YOUNG LADY! WE AREN’T…”

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, fruitlessly. “Mrs. Weasley, listen to me…”

“I SAID COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT!” Molly moved to follow Ginny and Harry was immediately in her way, keeping her from leaving the kitchen.

“Mrs. Weasley, I cannot have you screaming at Ginny like this.” Harry put the same steel into his voice that he used during his last encounter with Voldemort. The hard edge was immediately recognized by everyone in the room. Suddenly, it was like the kitchen had been plunged into winter.

“I’ll talk to Ginny any way I please! She’s my daughter! Now…” Molly began to push past Harry, but again he got into her way.

“Yes, you could talk to your daughter any way you please, but now that your daughter has become my fiance, I will thank you to not yell and scream at my fiancé,” Harry said with finality. “I understand your concerns and your fears and your anger, but she’s not a child and I demand you respect that.”

“You… You what? You…” Molly was almost apoplectic. She took several deep breaths, as if about to start yelling again. Arthur stepped up behind her and put a hand on Molly’s shoulder. She jumped as if startled, but never took her eyes from Harry’s.

Arthur’s face displayed concern and resolve to Harry. He looked Harry in the eye, and his look told Harry that while he was sympathetic to Harry’s point, he was also supporting his wife, as a husband should. It was also clear that he knew Harry was effectively doing the same exact thing with Ginny. “Harry, I think you should go. Come back tomorrow evening. I’m sure everything will be sorted out by then.”

Harry took a deep breath, calming himself. “Yes, I think that’s for the best. Ron, Hermione, Kingsley, I’ll talk to you all later.” He looked Molly Weasley in the eye. “Molly, thank you for dinner. I’m sorry things got so heated.”

He stepped into the parlor where Ginny was waiting for him. She had a hastily packed back in her hands, along with a box that looked surprisingly like his trunk, but miniaturized. “Ginny,” he said with some honest concern, “I don’t think…”

“I’m not staying here tonight, Harry. I left a note. It’s either your house or the Leaky Cauldron, I don’t care but I am not staying here.” She looked up to see her father standing in the kitchen doorway. Her mother, from the sound of it, was clanking around the sink.

Harry looked at Arthur, who somehow looked far older than his actual age. The man stared at his daughter for a long while, but then nodded to her. Arthur sighed, and in the sigh looked like a man who just realized he had lost something precious.

“Daddy… I love you…” Ginny said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Arthur nodded again. His eyes were wet. “Just… go, Ginny.”

“Just go.” And with that, he turned and re-entered the kitchen.

Chapter 22: Life Carries On In The People I Meet…

“I think I’ll just go,” Kingsley Shacklebolt muttered to Arthur. “I’m… I’m sorry if I provoked anything tonight.”

Arthur shook his head. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “This has been building ever since Fred died. Molly’s under a lot of stress, and she doesn’t feel she’s precisely in control of everything anymore. She used to take strength from the family, but now… one of our sons is dead and the rest of our children aren’t children any longer, and it’s become hard for her to accept that this is going to be the way it is from now on.”

“Yes… Well… I hope things work out, Arthur. See you at work.” With that, Shacklebolt saw himself out. Arthur walked back into the kitchen, staring at the floor as he mulled everything over. Molly was cleaning the dishes in the sink with her hands rather than her wand, something Arthur knew she never did unless she absolutely had to keep her mind occupied.

Ron and Hermione were still at the table, absently fiddling with the now-forgotten Chocolate Frog Cards everyone had been laughing at not twenty minutes earlier. To Arthur, they were obviously uncomfortable with the situation, but just as obviously had no idea what to do about it. Arthur took his seat, and for a long while the only sound was Molly banging around the sink.

“So…” Hermione said.

“Yeah.” Ron leaned forward until his forehead was touching the tabletop. “That could have gone a lot better. A whole lot better.”

“Everything would have been fine if Ginny had listened to sense.” Molly didn’t even turn around. Instead, she spoke loud enough to be heard over what she was doing.

“Mrs. Weasley, I don’t think…” Hermione started to say, but Molly whirled on her.

“Hermione, please do not stick your nose into our family business.” At this, Ron abruptly sat up. He opened his mouth to respond, but his father clamped down on his arm just in time. Arthur shook his head. His glare bored into his son’s.

“Molly…” Arthur began “… you know I love you more than life itself, and that I will always support you and care for you. But Ginny is an adult now, and can make her own choices. I’m sure she will always want to hear your advice, but she has to make the decisions from now on.”

“Arthur, she’s just a child,” Molly huffed. “She’s too young to choose that sort of thing. When Ginny comes back down, we’ll settle this once and for all. She has to be made to understand that as long as she’s living in our house, she will do what we say.”

At this statement, Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous looks. Arthur could tell what they were thinking… they were both currently living at the Burrow, and they weren’t about to let Molly direct their lives like she was trying to do with Ginny. He waved a hand at Ron, hoping he wouldn’t say anything.

“Molly… How do I say this? Molly… Ginny might not be living under our roof any longer.” Arthur waited for the explosion, but it never came. Instead, Molly merely turned to look at them.

“What do you mean by that, Arthur?”

Arthur couldn’t meet Molly’s eyes. “She left, Molly… she left a little while ago. She left with Harry.”

Molly’s face clouded up. “And you did nothing to stop her?”

Arthur sighed. He realized there was no way he was going to win this one, so the best he could do would be weather it out and hope for the best. “How do you suppose I should have stopped her, Molly?”

“I don’t… you should have just stopped her,” Molly said with some finality. “As her father, you should have forbidden her from leaving!”

“Dearest, I only knew she was leaving when I saw her standing next to the door, waiting for Harry to finish talking to you. “ Arthur sighed again. “She was on her way out anyway, and there was nothing I could say… or do… to stop it. I made a choice: did I want my little girl to leave and not want to ever come back because she was furious with both of her parents, or did I want my little girl to leave but hopefully see things would still be okay and have her come back because she was only furious with one parent?”

Arthur waited a moment. “I chose the latter,” he finished. “I saw no benefit in her being mad at both of us. So when I saw her talking to Harry… I told her that it would be better that they go. I’ve asked Harry to come back tomorrow evening.”

“Harry! It’s always Harry! Harry-Bloody-Potter! This is his fault, you know!” Molly steamed.

“Don’t.” The vehemence in Ron’s voice came as a surprise to everyone, especially Ron. He took a deep breath and started again. “Don’t push this off on Harry. He didn’t make Ginny leave. In fact…” he looked directly at his father “… I’m willing to bet real money that he at least made a token attempt to keep her from going. Didn’t he, Dad?”

Arthur nodded. “He started to, but Ginny over-rode him.”

“Ginny’s not here right now because of Ginny and because of you, Mum. Not because of Harry. So please don’t blame Harry for what happened tonight.”

“Ronald!” Molly exclaimed. “I will not be talked to like this by one of my own children!”

Arthur watched as Ron dropped his eyes to the table. Under his breath Arthur heard Ron mutter “… so far tonight you’ve been talked to by two of your children…” The way Hermione’s eyes widened, she heard him clearly. She reached out to Ron and took his hand. Arthur started to say something, but stopped.

“What was that?” Molly demanded.

Ron looked up. “Mum, I love you, but sometimes… sometimes it’s hard to like you. Ginny’s not a baby anymore. I’m not a baby anymore. None of your children are babies, Mum. Please! Try and stop thinking of us as babies!” His voice was level and calm, but there was an obvious undercurrent of heat there.

“How dare you!” Molly was winding up, and Arthur realized he was going to have to do something he hadn’t done in almost two decades… he was going to have to raise his voice in his own house, to his own wife. The thought shocked and disappointed him. Merlin, he didn’t want to…

“All I’ve ever wanted was for you and your sister and your brothers to have decent, safe lives!” Molly was speaking so quickly that she barely seemed to be breathing. “I’ll be damned before I fail Ginny like I failed Fred…”

Molly’s eyes widened as she realized what she said. She took several quick gasps and burst into long sobs. She started to collapse, but Arthur was up and in place to catch her before she could fall more than an inch. He pulled her back up to her feet, and then lifted her into his arms.

“Ron, Hermione…” he said, hesitantly.

Ron simply looked blank. Hermione nodded.

“Yeah.” Arthur carried Molly out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

XxxxxxX

"Ron!” Hermione swatted Ron on his arm. “I cannot believe you said that to your mother!” She was trembling inside. Her entire world had just tipped sideways and she didn’t know how to right it. The Weasleys don’t fight like this, she thought to herself. They just don’t!

“Well I had to say something before she got wound up about Harry. He didn’t do anything! And you heard Dad… he tried to talk Ginny out of it!” Ron was nothing if not loyal, Hermione knew, so this reaction should have been expected.

And Percy fought with his family for years, Hermione thought suddenly. “Ron, she’s just worried about Ginny’s future.”

“I realize that. But I think Ginny should have a bit more to say about her future than Mum, don’t you?” Ron asked. “What if it was us? What if she tried to make decisions for us like she was trying to do for Ginny?”

“Ron, that’s different…”

“How?” Ron demanded. “Ginny’s only seventeen, yeah... But what’s the real difference between her being seventeen and my being eighteen? Or your being almost nineteen, Hermione?”

“It’s not about our ages, Ron, and you bloody well know it. It’s about your mother wanting to hold on to what she has. It’s about your mother realizing that none of you are children anymore.” Hermione took a deep breath. “She wasn’t trying to order Ginny around… she was trying to protect herself, not Ginny, no matter what she says.”

“Protect herself? Protect herself from what?” Ron was struggling to find Hermione’s point, but as usual was nowhere near as sensitive or as quick-witted as she was.

“From change, Ronald.” Hermione brushed her fringe out of her eyes. “She’s afraid of what’s going to happen now that all of her kids are grown and moving on to their own lives. For most of her life, this house was full of children running around, causing problems, making noise… have you listened to this house lately? Go on… just listen.”

Ron sat still for a moment, and then shrugged. “I don’t hear anything…”

“Exactly! Where are the kids who used to run around this place?” Hermione held up her hand and ticked off one of her fingers. “Bill’s at Shell Cottage with Fleur, starting his own family.” Another finger. “Charlie’s back in Romania, looking after his dragons.” Still another finger. “Percy… during his absence from the family built himself a home and is in a long-term relationship with a wonderful woman who might well marry him some day.” A fourth finger. “George hasn’t lived in this house in years.” She looked at her thumb for a long time before a single tear fell down the right side of her face. Fred... she thought for a moment...

She wiped the tear away, and then smiled. She waggled her thumb, the only finger left sticking up on her hand. “You, Ronald, just asked the love of your life to marry you and she said yes.” She smiled at him, showing him how much she loved him.

But then she continued by closing her hand into a fist and extending her index finger. “And we come to Ginny, who if I miss my guess is probably lying in bed snuggling with Harry right about now. And, let's be brutally honest, she may or may not still be a virgin," she said over Ron's sudden glare. "It wouldn’t be a great surprise me if she told me tomorrow she was going to live with Harry full time from now on.”

She stood up and moved behind Ron, then leaned into him with her hands on his shoulders. “And to be honest, Ginny could have reacted better. Getting into a shouting match with your mother isn’t the right way to earn respect as an adult. It takes two people to fight, Ron… the person who provokes and the person who allows themself to be provoked. Ginny could have made her point a different way.”

Ron just shook her head. “Yeah, okay… I see your point. It’s not all Mum’s fault. But I still think the way she treated Ginny is a pretty shitty thing to do. This isn’t a good time for this. Everyone’s still hurting; we don’t need Ginny just walking away from the family like Percy did.”

“Ronald, he did come back, you know,” Hermione scolded.

“I know… but it never should have happened in the first place.” Ron’s jaw was set. “I don’t think Mom could take it if Ginny just…”

Arthur re-entered the kitchen. His eyes were hooded. “Your mother is sleeping. She needs it… what with everything that's happened, she hasn’t been getting a lot of… Ron… you made a good point…” at Ron’s startled look, he raised a hand “… yes, you have a point and I think there is something to it, but always remember that your mother’s point was also valid… at least in part. And always remember that, whatever you are thinking of her at the time, she is your mother. She deserves your respect for that, if nothing else, even if you’ve decided you don’t like her for a time.”

Ron had the good grace to at least look chastened. “Sorry, Dad.”

Arthur harrumphed… “I’m not the person you need to apologize to.”

XxxxxxX

Ginny couldn’t sleep. The turmoil from earlier had rattled her to the point that she simply could not sleep. She thought about her mother. She thought about Harry. She thought about the argument. As she became more and more tired, though, her thoughts ran to other subjects.

Ginny Potter. Mrs. Harry Potter. Mrs. Ginny Potter. Ginevra Molly Potter. Gin Potter. Ginevra Potter. Ginny Molly Weasley-Potter. She made a face at the last one. No… I’d never be a Weasley-Potter. Hyphenating sounds like something Hermione would do. Hermione Granger-Weasley. Though I hope she doesn’t…

It was fun, if only as a way to get used to the feel of the name.

Ginny M. Potter.

She felt it fit pretty well. She could definitely get used to being Ginny Potter. Now, after her mother’s screaming rant that drove her out of her parent’s house, she found no small amount of solace from the thought.

She gently shifted herself backward, closer into Harry’s embrace. She could feel his slow, steady breathing on her neck and it made her feel wanted. As always, a strong sense of belonging bloomed somewhere deep inside of her when Harry held her. She was content to remain like this. Even the thought of her argument with her mother didn’t lessen the feeling.

Ginny brought one of Harry’s hands up to her lips and kissed his fingers. She had been fighting a strong physical desire for him lately… a desire that had only grown as the two began to occasionally sleep together. Sleeping being the operative word, she thought to herself with a snort. There had been a brief period after they returned to Grimmauld Place where Ginny was dead-set on breaking the promise she had made to her mother regarding waiting until they were married. She’d come close to brazenly attacking Harry.

But Harry wouldn’t. He simply wouldn’t. Noble, lovely, compassionate, caring, understanding moron. Ginny smiled at the thought. I throw myself at him and what does he do? Catches me, sets me on the ground gently, and tells me no. In retrospect she had to respect that.

She knew she’d remember his words for a long time: “Ginny, if we do this now, because you’re mad at your mother, it would be for all the wrong reasons. I absolutely refuse to have the word ‘wrong’ be associated with our taking that final step.” He had kissed her gently, and then carried her upstairs. And they climbed in bed together to sleep.

She closed her eyes and reveled in the security his embrace gave her. G. M. Potter.

She wasn’t looking forward to tomorrow evening and another possible confrontation with her Mum, but Harry wasn’t going to let her out of it. He didn’t want her to become Percy. And in her heart, he knew she was right.

But I’m still not going back to Hogwarts. I don’t know yet what I’ll do with my life, but my I will not be a schoolgirl any more. My adult life starts now…

G. Molly Potter. That one caused another soft snort.

“Ginevra Molly Potter,” she said, her voice the near-whisper of a person almost asleep. She wasn’t even aware she had spoken aloud. Harry’s embrace tightened for a moment as he hugged her in his sleep. It was a small thing, but it made her smile.

Shortly, her eyes closed and her breath began to come slow and regular. Her heartbeat synced with Harry’s, and she fell asleep.

Chapter 23: In Everyone That’s Out On The Street…

Harry pushed the door open with his hip and maneuvered into the bedroom. He was careful not to bump the breakfast tray into the door-jam as he entered; at this point, spilling would ruin everything. For a moment, he simply stood in front of the mattress, looking at her.

Ginny was laying on the right side of the mattress, facing toward the left… toward where he would be if he had still been in bed. She held a swath of the bunched-up sheet in her hands, exposing her bare shoulders and her back. Her hair was arrayed around her head like a fiery halo. Sleeping, she looked even more angelic than Harry thought possible.

He felt a momentary thrill at the thought that, under the sheet, she was wearing nothing more than a pair of panties, but quickly pushed such thoughts from his head. His motives this morning were far nobler.

Harry set the tray on the floor beside the mattress and gently lowered himself to it until he was sitting on the edge, behind her. He leaned over and, as gently as he could manage, kissed her cheek. “Ginny… angel… wake up.”

“… Fi’ mur mints…“ came the mumbled reply. She clasped the sheet closer to her chest and tried to turn away from him.

He kissed her again, this time putting a bit more pressure behind it. “Come on, love… Time to wake up.”

Ginny’s eyelids blinked open and Harry watched as her eyes rolled from the back of her head to the front, then rolled again to find and focus on him. She blinked again and smiled. “Goo’ murnin’,” she muttered. It was obvious to Harry that she wasn’t completely awake yet, but it was a start.

“Good morning, love! I brought you breakfast. Care to sit up?” Harry picked up the tray. She sat up slowly, still groggy from sleep. When Harry woke up, he did it all at once and was instantly alert; he found the fact that she woke up so slowly a very endearing contrast.

Ginny yawned with her entire body, stretching her arms over her head as she did so. As she did so, the sheet dropped away, exposing her breasts. She immediately grabbed for the sheet, then realized what she was doing and blushed. “I guess it’s a little late for modesty, isn’t it?” She laughed at herself.

“I’m not overly concerned with it, to tell you the truth. But your reaction was cute.” Ginny made a face at him, and he quickly added, “But a good cute… I promise… a good cute. But if it bothers you, then by all means…”

“No… it’s just something we… I… will have to get used to.” She looked over the tray as he placed it over her legs. “What is that?” She pointed at the plate. “Is that an egg stuck in a piece of toast?”

“It’s called ‘egg in a basket’. It is perhaps one of the best breakfast foods around. Also, porridge with a bit of sugar and cinnamon, a papaya half, some bacon, and since I couldn’t for the life of me remember what it was you liked to drink with your breakfast, I brought pumpkin juice, milk, and tea.” He presented each item like a quiz-show hostess presenting prizes.

“You really didn’t have to do all this for me, Harry.”

“I know. But I wanted to, so I did. Kreacher was scandalized that Master Harry was actually operating the stove himself. He pouted until I let him fix the beverages,” Harry laughed.

She picked up the egg-imbedded toast by the corner and carefully took a bite out of it. Still chewing, Ginny said, “Oh… it’s almost soaked in butter!” She took another bite, this time getting some egg. “You’re not eating?”

“I had something while cooking for you. My eating would ruin the point of all this.”

“And what is the point of all this?” Ginny looked around for a napkin, then huffed and used a corner of the bed sheet to wipe her mouth and fingers. “Eh, Mister Potter? Just what was your goal, here?” She batted her eyes at Harry and feigned a formal air.

“Watching you sit half-naked in bed and eat,” he smirked at her.

“Ach… You’re horrid!” Ginny blushed from her toes.

“I don’t know… it worked, didn’t it?”

“Well, I certainly have to admit that it did.”

Harry continued to watch her eat for a while. She ate the toast-and-egg, the bacon, and most of the porridge, but made a face at the papaya. He filed that knowledge away, unconsciously recording her likes and dislikes for future use.

“So…” Ginny said finally “… what are we doing today?”

“I’d like to stop by Andromeda’s and see Teddy sometime this morning, and we have to stop by the shop because I told Hermione I would, and this evening we have to go back to the Burrow and sort out the mess.” Harry watched her face cloud over. “But… in between… it’s Saturday. We could do just about anything you want to do. We could go shopping, we could go to a park and feed the pigeons, or we could… go to a cinema and see a film. Have you ever seen a film?”

Ginny shook her head.

“Well, we could do that. We could… go wander through the British museum. We… could see if any professional Quidditch matches were going today and try and get tickets. Whatever you would like to do, I want to do it with you.” Harry smiled.

“Ron and Hermione are leaving tomorrow morning for Australia. I’d like to see them before they leave,” Ginny said. “And we should talk about what I’m going to tell Mum and Dad, before we go ho… to the Burrow.”

Harry noticed the correction but didn’t make anything of it. “That’s fine. I figured we’d be discussing this or that before we went.” He picked up the breakfast tray and stood. “And we don’t have to do just one thing… we have plenty of time, you know.”

“I know.” She looked a bit pensive.

“It’ll be okay, Ginny. Whatever happens, we’re together. Be right back.” Harry opened the door and paused. “Why don’t you think about the plan for the day while you’re getting dressed? Anything you want.” He smiled again and was gone.

XxxxxxX

He took his glasses and his t-shirt off, so as to not get shaving foam on either of them. With a quick look in the mirror, he began his normal shaving ritual. Harry vigorously swirled the brush, stirring up the lather in his shaving cup. Within moments his face was covered in soapy lather. He’d already stropped the razor, and with care and attention began to shave. He’d just made the first stroke, just in front of his right ear, when Ginny knocked on the bathroom door… he knew it had to be Ginny because Kreacher wouldn’t have knocked and there was no one else in the house.

“Ginny, just come in… you don’t have to knock, remember?” Harry said, pausing his razor while he spoke.

Ginny pushed the door open. “Sorry… I wasn’t sure you’d want me walking in if you were… you know…” she inclined her head toward the toilet “… sitting down or something.” She tugged on her sleeve nervously.

Harry chuckled. “I love you, you know.” He scraped the razor’s edge down another line of his cheek. “Everything all right?”

Ginny was staring at him. “What are you doing?”

“Shaving, why?” Harry stopped and looked at her.

“Shaving? With a knife? What’s that on your face?”

“Um… this is a straight razor, and I’ve got soap on my face. Why? What’s the matter?” Harry was confused now.

“You’re not… not using your wand, that’s all. I’ve never seen you shave. I just assumed you do it like my Dad and all my brothers did it.” Ginny leaned against the door jam. “Or like I do with my legs and pits. You do know the Depilidio charm, don't you?”

“Oh, yeah… I use that too sometimes, but I really prefer to use the Muggle way. It’s calming and I get some good thinking time in.” He resumed shaving, taking great care to not cut his nose off when shaving his upper lip. When he was done, he smiled at her. “Sirius taught me to do it this way. It's actually the way Muggles used to do it... not to many of them use a straight-razor anymore...”

“It looks rather dangerous. Do you ever cut yourself?”

“Every once in a while, I do. It’s minor, though.” Harry met her eyes in the reflection. “So…”

Ginny nodded. “I was thinking… you know how you said we could do anything I wanted today?”

Harry nodded and turned his attention to his other cheek. “Yeah. Come to a decision yet?”

“Well… sort of… What would you think about getting married?” Ginny fidgeted, as if afraid of what he was going to say.

“That was the point of the ring, yeah?” He smiled, then scraped the last of the foam from his face. Harry wiped his face down with a wet cloth and turned to her. “Of course I want to marry you… why...?"

“No, I mean… on Monday, when the Ministry offices are open.” Ginny took the cloth from him and dabbed at spots near the base of his ears, then held it to a spot just under his chin. “Best thing about using the Shaving charm… no cuts. I mean, let’s get married on Monday. Let’s just elope. We can go to the Ministry and have a civil ceremony.”

Harry looked at her for a long while. “Are you serious? I mean, are you sure?”

“Completely.”

Harry thought about it. He took on a very casual air. “Well… I did want to drop by and talk to Kingsley about that job offer, and I needed to see about getting the fireplace hooked up to the Floor Network. So I suppose we could throw in a marriage too.”

Ginny blinked. “You mean it?”

“If it’s what you really, truly want, yes, of course I mean it. What, weren’t you serious when you asked me?” Harry was puzzled.

“Of course I was serious.” Ginny sighed.

“Good! But we’re going to have to tell your parents tonight.” Harry pulled her close and kissed her nose.

Ginny pushed herself back. “What? You want to discuss our wedding plans with my parents?”

“No, I want to tell your parents about our wedding plans, not discuss them.”

She wasn’t mollified. “What’s the difference?”

Harry sighed and pulled her back to him. Again, he kissed her on the nose, and when she looked at him suspiciously, he did it again. “Discussing it with them means they have a say. Telling them is informing them of a decision we’ve already made. There’s a huge…” he kissed her lips, gently “… difference between the two.”

“Why are we… Harry, the point of eloping is to just do it. You don’t warn people that you’re doing it.” Ginny still looked irritated, but only just.

“I made a promise…” Harry leaned in and kissed her on her forehead, then on her cheek, and then on her shoulder “… to your father. I promised him…” he began to nibble his way up her shoulder toward her neck “… that we would wait to get married…” and up her neck “until you were out of school.”

“Silly… I’m not going… Harry, you’re distracting me…” Ginny pushed against him, but not very hard. “Harry… this isn’t fair…” He began nibbling on her earlobe and she started giggling. “Hey!… Harry… no… do you… STOP! Harry… oh… I’m not… Cut it out! I’m not going back… oh no, don’t you dare stop doing that...”

Harry straightened up. “I’m sorry… were you trying to say something?”

“I am going to make you pay… That was evil,” Ginny laughed. “Harry… you’re not marrying my Dad, you’re marrying me. I don’t care about your promise to Dad. Besides, I’m not going back to school.”

“I know.” He pulled his t-shirt on. “And the way I see it that negates the promise since technically, you not going back means you’re out of school. But I’m not going to spring it on them. You might still be mad at your mum, but I think they deserve knowing beforehand.”

“Fine… but I won’t let them talk us out of it. We’re getting married on Monday.” Ginny pulled herself out of Harry’s grasp. “Let’s go see our godson.”

“Our godson?” Harry asked with a smirk.

“Well… if I’m marrying you, and you’re his godfather, doesn’t that make me his godmother?”

“Oh. That makes sense.”

XxxxxxX

“…older we need to get him crayons. If nothing else, he’ll have a wider range of shades for his hair. One of those big boxes of 64 different colors.” Harry and Ginny appeared suddenly in the alley alongside the premises of Weasley Wizard Wheezes.

“What’s a crayon?” Ginny asked.

“Huh? Oh… its a little colored stick that Muggle children use to draw with… they’re great. Our children will definitely know the joys of crayons.”

“Children? We’re not even married yet and you’re thinking about children?” Ginny’s grin was a bit sardonic.

“Well… I was thinking, maybe… I mean… if you don’t want kids, we don’t…” Harry took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “If there are any ways I haven’t mucked it up today, would you let me know?”

“Relax, Harry… I’m just winding you up.” Ginny ruffled his hair as they rounded the corner and stepped in front of the shop.

“Ron has been busy, I see.” Harry pointed to the front window. “Last time I was here, the front was boarded up and the glass broken. Dirt and rubbish everywhere. Cobwebs, even.” Instead of a broken window, the usual products and notices, along with a large sign reading, HELP WANTED! filled the front window.

Harry led Ginny to the shop’s door. The handle had been replaced, and was locked when he jiggled it. Peering through the door, Harry spotted movement, so he knocked. Peering through the glass in the door, he got his first good view of the shop, and was only slightly amazed. Though he could see some empty areas, the shelves had been repaired, the dust and cobwebs cleaned away, and the merchandise restocked.

At the sound of the knock, Ron stepped out of the back, followed by a young woman Harry hadn’t seen in a couple of years. Ron waved at Harry and Ginny through the window, and then made a poking motion toward the door with his wand. Instantly, it unlocked itself.

“Good morning, strangers!” Ron was cheery, it seemed. He chucked Harry on the shoulder and pulled Ginny into a tight hug. “So… I half-expected to not see you again after last night.”

“I don’t want to talk about last night, Ronald.” Ginny scowled.

“That’s fine. If it’s any consolation, I’m taking your side. I think you’re old enough to make your own decisions, even when I think those decisions are wrong.” Ron shrugged. “You’re old enough to make your own mistakes, just like the rest of us.”

“That’s very sweet of you Ron. I always appreciate it when you’re being supportive. What do you mean old enough to make my own mistakes?” Ginny continued to scowl at him.

“Nothing… I think you should finish school. But it’s not my decision and I’m not going to lecture you about it.”

“Mister Weasley…” they were interrupted by an arrival from the back room. “Oh… I’m sorry, Mister Weasley…”

“That’s all right, Verity.” Ron said. “Harry, Ginny, you remember Verity Greene, right?”

“Of course. It’s nice to see you again, Verity.” Harry greeted her. “That was fast.”

“What was fast?” Verity asked, confused.

Harry explained. “Yesterday, Ron told me he was going to be hiring people… I wasn’t expecting him to succeed so quickly.”

“Oh… well...” she shrugged. “Technically I never stopped working here, so when I got Mister Weasley’s owl, naturally I came right away.”

“That makes sense,” Ginny said.

“Verity, I told you not to call me ‘Mister Weasley’. Call me Ron.” From the sound of it, this was an argument they’d been having for a while.

“Yes, Mister Weasley. I… um… I just finished the inventory in the store-room… we’re down to our last dozen snack-boxes, but we have more fake wands than you can shake a real one at.” Verity reported.

“Okay, thanks. See what you can do with the workshop… we need to get that sorted out if we’re going to replenish the merchandise we’re out of.” Ron got a vague look to his eye, the one Harry recognized as the ‘I’m thinking in the long term’ look. “Did George or Fred ever teach you any of the formulas, Verity?”

“Not too many… I know how to make Itching Mints and Ton-Tongue Toffees, but that’s about it.”

“Well, I suppose we need to wait until George is back from wherever he got to. I don’t suppose you know if they wrote anything down?” Ron asked. He turned to Harry and Ginny and said, “How either of them got anything done, I’ll never know…”

Verity thought about it. “They had a pair of notebooks, but I haven’t seen them. I’ll check the workshop while I’m straightening it up. Nice meeting you again.” She waved at Ginny and Harry and stepped into the back of the shop.

Ron sighed. “I promoted her. She’s now officially the store manager. Best thing to ever happen to this place. Now if I can just find one or two more employees, we’d be up and running.”

“Ron, I’m impressed. In just a couple of days you’ve become a respectable businessman!” Ginny joked.

Harry grinned along with her. “Yeah, mate… who knew you had it in you?”

Ron’s ears turned red. “Yeah, well… it’s like chess, really. Just strategy, innit?” Ron looked around the shop. “We might just be ready to open up on Monday. Of course, I’m not going to be here… that’s why the first thing I did was put Verity in charge. I’ve told her that under no circumstances is George to be in charge.”

That caused some consternation. “Why? What’s the matter with George, Ron?” Ginny asked.

Ron looked over her shoulder to the door. “You’ll find out in just a second.”

They turned to look toward the door, just in time to watch George walk into the shop. He looked red-eyed and tired. “Ginny! So the prodigal returns! Ron told me you told Mum off and ran out last night! Good for you!” He nearly smothered Ginny in his hug. “I’m sorry about your birthday.”

“George…” Harry began.

“It's okay, George. George… it’s barely lunchtime… why do you smell of firewhisky?” Ginny pushed George off of her.

“I might have had a drink while I was out. Or two.” At this, Ron huffed, loudly. “But only two… it’s not like I went out and got blind stinking drunk…”

“George, Verity needs your help in the workshop. We need to find your notebooks so we can get production going again.” Ron’s voice was quiet, but commanding.

“Right… good idea. Sorry about everything.” George looked sheepish for a moment as he left. “You’re going to be at Mum and Dad’s tonight, right? I’ll see you two there, then.”

Ginny and Harry stared.

“Ron?” Ginny was the first to speak. “What’s going on with George?”

“Well, he…” Ron ran his hand through his hair, and then scratched at it idly. “You see… He’s been having a harder time than the rest of us getting back on his feet. He’s been drinking a lot, lately…”

“That’s why you put Verity in charge of the shop?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. Though George thinks it’s your idea.”

“What?”

“Yeah, Harry… I haven’t told him that I’m his new partner yet. He just thinks I’m helping out, you know?” Ron shrugged. “I’ll tell him after we get back from Australia. In the mean-time, I’ve convinced him to open back up on Monday with Verity running the shop for him. I think I convinced him to let her do most of the brain-work.”

“Sounds like you’ve got most of it sorted out.” Harry said. “We stopped by to make sure everything was at least heading to normal here… and you’ve done it in two days.”

“Oh don’t fool yourself, Harry… we’re far from normal here.” Ron sighed. “George is a wreck and I’m calm like a swan.”

“Like a what?” Harry looked confused.

“You know… a swan? They look graceful and beautiful on top of the water, but underneath they’re paddling for all their worth… that’s me then.”

“I see…” Harry sympathized. “Sounds like the usual state of things these days.”

Chapter 24: In All The Dogs And Cats

“Try it. Trust me… it’s just potato salad!” Harry urged. It seemed odd to him, that Ron would hesitate to actually eat something.

“But it doesn’t look like any potato salad I’ve ever had… just looks like odd-colored potatoes all sliced up with green stuff on them.” Ron eyed his plate warily. “Cold, odd-colored potatoes at that," he muttered under his breath.

“Seriously, Ronald… with everything I’ve seen you eat without so much as blinking, you’re getting squeamish over German potato salad?” Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron, and then leaned over him to spear a slice of potato. “Okay… the Quaffle is heading for the goal-post! Open up now…” She waggled the fork in ever decreasing circles while pushing it closer and closer to his mouth.

“Hermione…!” Ron looked to Harry or Ginny for support, but both were barely constraining giggles. “Fine…” He opened up and took the bit of potato off the fork. “Hmm… okay, so it tastes good. It still doesn’t look like any potato salad I’ve ever had.” He looked utterly humiliated.

“It’s good to try new things now and again, Ron.” Ginny bit into her sandwich and smiled. Chewing, she watched the passing traffic. Diagon Alley was a busy place on Saturday, and it occurred to her that just sitting in a sidewalk café, watching the wizards and witches walk by about their business, was kind of fun. “Could someone tell me why we’ve never eaten here before?”

“Well, I have eaten here before, actually.” Harry sipped his Butterbeer. “Remember right before my third year… would have been your second, Ginny… you guys were off on your Egyptian adventure? The Ministry put me up at the Cauldron?” When his three companions nodded, Harry continued. “Well, I made it a point to try a new place every day. Just to see what it was like. I liked this place.”

“I still don’t see why we couldn’t have gone to the Leaky Cauldron,” Ron muttered. He was still poking at his sandwich… he wasn’t sure about putting sauerkraut on a sandwich.

Hermione sighed. “Because we always go to the Cauldron when we’re at the Alley… Honestly… you’ve been coming to Diagon Alley for seven years now. Have you ever once eaten anywhere but the Leaky Cauldron?”

“Sure…” Ron thought about it. “Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor.”

"First, Ronald, that’s an ice cream parlor. You don’t eat lunch there when invited out by your sister and her fiancé. Second… you might not have noticed, but the ice cream parlor is gone. Has been ever since…” Hermione abruptly stopped speaking and looked glum.

“Yeah, I know. It’s okay.” Ron rubbed Hermione’s shoulder. He smiled at her, trying to cheer her up.

“Speaking of going to lunch with your sister and her fiancé,” Ginny began. She looked toward Harry, her eyes asking a quick question. Harry nodded and took another bite of his sandwich. “We… um… we have something we need to tell you. Seeing as you’re leaving for Australia tomorrow morning, we didn’t want you to get back and be surprised.”

“Oh, Merlin… you’re not pregnant are you?” Ron asked.

“WHAT? No! Why would you think I was pregnant?” Ginny slapped him on the shoulder. “Whatever would give you the idea that I’m pregnant?”

“Well… you two… I just thought… I mean…” Ron stopped talking and took a big bite out of his sandwich, sauerkraut or no sauerkraut.

“No, Ron. I’m not pregnant.” Ginny was red, though whether it was from annoyance or embarrassment Harry couldn’t tell. She looked once more at Harry for confirmation. “We’re getting married. On Monday.”

Ron stopped chewing his sandwich. His face went slack, like someone hit him on the forehead with a hammer. Hermione, on the other hand, squealed and clapped. “Ginny! Congratulations! I mean, I don’t know why so soon, but if it makes you happy, I’m happy for you!” She abruptly got serious. “It’s not because of Molly, is it? Oh, Ginny… don’t just get married to stick a finger in your mother’s eye… “

Ginny fumed. “Why does everyone think I want to get back at my mother? First it’s Harry, now it’s you…”

“The timing,” Harry said. He was leaning his chair onto its back legs. “That’s probably what it is.”

“Harry’s right,” Ron finally said, swallowing. “Mum’s going to explode. She’s not just going to get mad at you, Ginny… she’s going to explode. Two days after your big row with her over controlling your life, you want to take a big… no, a gigantic step away from her. Bigger even than moving in with Harry.” He stopped. “You have moved into Harry’s, right? I mean… I figured when you left last night, you were leaving for good, despite what Dad said.”

Ginny stared at her plate. “Yeah, I guess I have moved out permanently. I mean, I still have stuff at the Burrow, but…” she shrugged.

Hermione took a deep breath and her face contorted, as if she was in pain. “Well… tonight’s going to be interesting. What with the screaming and the threats.”

Ron was quiet for a long time. “Ginny, I love you and I will always love you, because you’re my baby sister… but I have to say I think you getting married on Monday is a mistake, just like I think you not going back to Hogwarts is a mistake. I think you’re moving way too fast. But if it’s really what you want to do… both of you…” Ron looked at Harry. “You’re old enough to make your own decisions. It’s not like you’re going to be living in a one-room flat trying to make ends meet on two low-paying jobs… at least you don’t have that worry.”

Ron sat back in his chair and pushed the half-finished plate away. “I just… I’m not looking forward to being there when you tell Mum is all.”

Hermione smiled weakly. “Yeah, but Molly’s going to go spare. Not to mention the rest of your family. Everybody but Charlie’s coming over tonight, remember? Big send-off for me and Ron?”

“Oh, Hermione!” Ginny held a hand to her mouth. “I’d completely forgotten! I don’t want to mess up the send-off… and I really don’t want to get into another row with my mother…”

“Then there’s two options.” Ron held up his fingers. “One, you don’t tell them tonight. Tell them after the fact. Two… don’t go through with it. Now, I’ve already told you which option I think you should choose.”

Hermione turned to Harry. “You’ve been awfully quiet through all of this… what do you think?”

Harry set his Butterbeer bottle on the table. “I think I want Ginny to be happy, and I am willing to do everything I can to make her happy. If she wants to get married on Monday, and she really means it and is certain of it, then we’re getting married on Monday. If she wants to wait, then we wait. She’s worth waiting for, I think.” Harry smiled. “I guess it’s the same thing with her not going back to school. If she’s happiest not going back to school, then I support her. That’s also part of the deal… I stand by her and support her whenever she needs someone to support her, even if it’s against her own mother.”

“Do you want to get married on Monday, Harry?” Hermione asked.

“Yes, if that’s what Ginny wants.”

“Harry, I’m asking you what you want…”

“And I told you… I want Ginny to be happy. If that means finding someone to marry us in the next fifteen seconds, then I’ll do that. If that means waiting until the year 2034 to marry her, I’ll do that.” Harry explained. “If it means we never get married and raise our children in one of those strange non-marriage marriages you hear about in gossip magazine stories about celebrities, then we’ll do that.”

His response exasperated Hermione. “Harry, that’s not a real opinion. I’m asking you, seriously. Do you want to get married to Ginny?”

“Yes, of course I do. I wouldn’t have asked her otherwise.” Harry thought this was obvious.

“On Monday?”

“If that’s what Ginny wants.”

“Gah! Harry…” Hermione held her forehead in her hands. She sat up abruptly. “Okay, let me ask you this… would you prefer to get married on Monday, or wait for a better time?”

Ginny turned and stared at Harry as he shifted uneasily in his chair.

“The truth…” Hermione prompted.

“Well…” Harry hesitated.

Ginny stood abruptly, knocking over her chair. She gave Harry a withering look and walked away, toward the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

“Shit! Be right back…” Harry ran after her. Ron raised one of his eyebrows to Hermione and shrugged.

“Yeah…” Hermione said “… me either.”

XxxxxxX

Harry caught up to Ginny just as she was tapping the brick wall that led to the Leaky Cauldron. “Ginny, wait… please.” Harry grabbed her by the arm, only to find the business end of her wand thrust between his eyes.

“Let go,” Ginny spat through clenched teeth.

“No. Hex me if you feel the need… I probably earned it. But even if you hit me with a Cruciatus, I’m going to hold on until you stop and listen to me.” Harry closed his eyes and braced himself for the worst.

“Let me go, Harry.” The command came a bit softer than it had previously, but only just a bit softer. He opened one eye. Ginny was staring at him… the set of her jaw told him she was still angry, but her eyes weren’t quite so violently slitted as before.

“Ginny… please hear me out,” Harry begged. “If you still want to hex me after hearing me out, I’ll just stand here and take it, okay? I’ll let you go as soon as you say you’ll listen.”

She stared at him. She continued staring at him. Ginny looked to the brick wall, then back down Diagon Alley. Lowering her wand, she said “Fine. I’ll listen. Can we go somewhere less public?”

“Sure.” He held his arm out to her. “Express taxi service to somewhere less public, coming right up.”

Ginny smiled. It was a weak smile, but at least it was a smile. “Prat…” She took hold of his arm, he turned in place…

They appeared in the middle of a ruin… it was obvious that the room had once been a well-appointed bedroom, but the furniture was now falling apart, and the entire building creaked. There was dust everywhere, and the place smelled of mold.

“Where the hell are we?” Ginny looked around. “What is this place?”

Harry shrugged, also looking around. “It’s… er… the master bedroom of my grand-parent’s house, in Hogsmeade. It hasn’t been looked after in a while. I was thinking of getting the place fixed up, eventually.”

“What?” Ginny was confused. “Didn’t you say that your grand-parent’s house… This is the Shrieking Shack? We’re in the Shrieking Shack?”

Harry shrugged again.

“Well… at least it’s less public.” Ginny found an overturned chair. She up-righted it and sat down. “So… you wanted me to listen. Talk.”

“I’m sorry I upset you,” Harry began…

“Upset me? You didn’t upset me, Harry, you hurt me! I thought you wanted to get…”

He put a finger to her lips, stopping her. “Ginny, you said you’d listen. Please…”

She stared at him for a moment, and then nodded. “I said I’d listen. Sorry…”

“It’s all right… I know you’re upse… hurt. I’m sorry I hurt you. I didn’t mean to.” Harry took a deep breath and stared at his hands. He rubbed them together, as if trying to get dirt off of them. “I do want to marry you. I want to marry you and spend the rest of my life with you, and if that means getting married on Monday in some private little ceremony at the Ministry, then so be it. The circumstances won’t change my feelings for you.”

“But…” She prompted.

“But… I do think it’s a bit fast, is all. I’m worried about your feelings, Ginny. I’m worried that… please don’t hate me but I’m wondering if this rush to get married is because of your… well… you’ve always hated being seen as a little girl who needs protecting, Ginny.” Harry knelt in front of her and took her hands. “Can you think of any better way to say ‘I don’t need protecting any more’ to your parents than suddenly showing up married?”

Ginny shook her head. She was avoiding his eyes.

“I’m not saying that was why you asked. I’m just thinking it might have something to do with it.” He lifted one of her hands to his lips and kissed it. “What do you think? Could it be?”

“I… You see… When…” Ginny stopped. “Not really, Harry… it’s…”

“What’s the matter, love? You can tell me anything.” Harry lifted her chin with a finger so he could see her eyes.

She glanced away. “Harry, I don’t want to lose you again.”

That caught him by surprise. “What?”

“I don’t want to lose you again.” She finally looked him in the eyes. He could see that she was serious. “I don’t want to wake up and find you’re gone. I don’t want to have to wait for days and weeks and months to see you again. I never want to feel abandoned again, Harry…”

“What does… Ginny, you’re not going to lose me…” Harry was at a loss. “I don’t understand, Ginny. What does this have to do with the rush to…?”

“Because if we’re married and you left I’d at least have your name to hang onto!” She interrupted. As soon as she said it she clasped her hands over her mouth.

The outburst shocked Harry enough that he fell backward onto his butt. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. “So… all the anxiousness and wanting to get it over with… was all about me? Because you’re…”

“I don’t want to be alone anymore. I don’t want to not be with you anymore…” She was back to not looking at him. “I’m still afraid of losing you, I guess.”

“Oh, Ginny… I am so sorry…”

She looked up at that. “You’re sorry? Why are you sorry? You’re not the one who’s so worried about being alone she wants to rush into a marriage.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one who left you. I’m the one who you fell in love with and who left you. I’m the one who hurt you. Ginny, I am so…”

“If you apologize to me I’m going to hex you, Harry. I’ve already forgiven you. This… this isn’t about blaming you, Harry… it’s about me being afraid.” Ginny caressed his face and smiled. “That’s all.”

“You say ‘that’s all’ as if your feelings don’t matter. I don’t want you to be afraid anymore.”

“And I don’t want to force you into marrying me just because I’m being silly.”

“Ginny, you weren’t forcing me into anything. I volunteered, remember?” Harry climbed to his feet. “Look, Ginny… I love you, and I want to be with you. I’ve never actually asked you formally…”

He pulled her up to her feet and kissed her.

“Asked me what?” She looked up at him, into his eyes. “You’ve already asked me the big question. I said yes, remember?” Ginny held up her left hand and waggled her fingers.

Harry could feel his heart flutter, and hoped it always would when she looked at him like that. “How do you feel about moving in with me full time?” He smiled. “Then, after that, the next logical step will be getting married… but not on Monday.”

Ginny smiled wryly. “Mister Potter, are you suggesting I become some sort of scarlet woman?”

He kissed her. “Absolutely!” He deepened the kiss. “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting. Let’s be together as a couple for a while before we’re together as a man and wife. I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, Ginny nodded. “I can… yeah… It’s silly, really…” She kissed him back. “So… let’s go finish lunch. Okay?”

“Okay.” Harry looked at her suddenly. “So what are we going to tell your Mum and Dad?” He held out an arm to her.

“That you’re moving in with me.” Ginny laughed.

“In with you? Ginny… it’s my house!”

Chapter 25: In The Flies And Rats…

Dinner wasn’t a complete disaster. At least Harry could say that. It wasn’t precisely the warm, friendly, hale-fellow-well-met affairs that Weasley family dinners usually were, but then, perhaps he wasn’t looking for one of those. Molly had apparently been talking to her sons; except for Ron, who was his usual friendly, goofy self, and George, who was at least not hostile, Harry had received the cold-shoulder from Ginny’s other brothers. They weren’t actively hostile… no, Molly wouldn’t have done that to Harry… but they were far more distant than they had ever been. The Burrow, for the first time in his life, didn’t feel like home.

Harry stared into his pumpkin juice and sighed. Intellectually, he knew that things were all going to change now that they were all grown up, but emotionally… even with everything he’d been saying to Ginny all day… it hadn’t caught up to him. Not until he gave Bill Weasley a friendly smile and a wave and got a blank, almost indifferent stare in return. Percy had been even more stiffly formal than usual, if that was possible, while Molly herself hadn’t said one word to Harry past ‘Good Evening’ all night. Arthur himself had looked extremely uncomfortable, but was at least congenial.

Most of the rest of the party had moved inside already. He stayed outside, sitting at the empty table, thinking, while Ginny made an attempt at peacemaking by helping her mother with the dishes. It was enough to make me wonder why I came to dinner at all, Harry thought to himself. He leaned as far back in his chair as he could, put his hands behind his head, and stared up at the stars. It took moving away from the electrified world of Muggles to get me to notice the stars again…

“Zey blame you, I theenk.” Harry’s reverie was ended by Fleur’s voice.

He lowered his chair to all four feet and smiled at her. “Evening, Fleur. It’s nice to know someone is still talking to me.” Earlier Harry was so interested in not making waves he hadn’t said two words to anyone, once he caught the mood of the room. Not that anyone had tried talking to him…

“Oui, eet ees not good, being un etranger by ze pipple ‘oo yoo taught were votre famile.” Fleur put a wineglass in front of Harry. The bottle was placed on the table between them as she sat down. “Try zees… eet ees from ze vineyard of mon pere. ‘e sent Beel and me sev’rall. Eet ees good.”

“Thank you.” He picked the wineglass up and tried a sip. He wasn’t really a wine person, but it was certainly an interesting taste. “So… did you find out exactly for what I was being blamed? Or is it just general ‘I’m corrupting their daughter’ thing?”

Fleur rolled her eyes and smiled. Once upon a time, Fleur’s smile would have made Harry feel a bit weak in the knees… it surprised him how little it affected him now. “You ‘ave déshonneur de leur fille, Madame Weezley, she theenk.” It took Harry a moment to run that through what little French he knew.

“Dishonored their daughter?”

“Oui! Zat ees what I said,” Fleur laughed. “Yoo should not take eet so…” She waved her hands in front of her, searching for the word.

“Seriously?”

“Oui. Arthur, ‘e will breeng Molly aroun’.”

“One hopes.” There was a clink of glass as Ron stepped out of the shadow and put his glass down. He took a seat next to Fleur. “May I?” Without waiting for an answer, Ron half-filled his glass with wine. Ron took a sip. “Fleur, tell your Dad that this is good stuff.”

“Sank yoo, Ron,” Fleur replied. It was obvious to her… to anyone… that Ron wouldn’t know good wine from Bubotuber pus, but the boy was trying.

“Where’s Hermione?” Harry asked.

“Inside, keeping Ginny from murdering our mother.” Ron took another sip.

Harry stood up. “I’d better…”

“Seet back down.” Fleur stood from her own chair and had a hand on each of Harry’s shoulders. “Yoo do not wan’ to go in zhere.”

“She’s right… you’d get killed. Stay out here with the rest of us refugees.” Ron leaned back in his chair. “Isn’t the sky pretty tonight? I love looking at the stars. They’re just so… majestic.”

“Is this a private party, or can anyone join?” A voice came from the darkness. It was Audrey, Percy’s girlfriend. As Harry peered into the shadow, both she and Percy approached the table. Like Ron, they sat down and poured themselves a drink.

“I should ‘ave brought more bottles,” Fleur grinned.

“So… Harry…” Percy began. “The word around the office is that Minister Shacklebolt has talked you into joining the Aurors. Is it true?” Percy gave Harry a quick smile. It was, in fact, a smile that Harry hadn’t seen on Percy’s face since Harry’s first year, just after he’d been sorted into Gryffindor.

“Yeah… Kingsley said he wanted me to join. He said I’d need to take some training, but that he was waiving my N.E.W.T.S.”

“Life experience, I suppose?” Percy took a sip of the wine. “Fleur, this is excellent…”

“That’s what Kingsley said. I just hope his faith in me isn’t misplaced.”

“Doubtful. You did take down the worst Dark Wizard the world has seen since Grindelwald.” Percy held a hand out to Harry. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. And… I’d like to apologize for the family.”

Ron nearly choked on his drink. “Perce… you’ve been giving him the evil eye all evening.”

“And now I’m apologizing. Audrey and I were inside, and we listened to what Ginny was saying to Mum. And the way you are being treated is just wrong.” Percy’s hand hadn’t been withdrawn. “You aren’t being treated very well by us right now. It’s not right. As a family, we owe you too much. Me especially… I was a real toad to you for the longest time. I wish I could take it back, but all I can do is make up for it.”

Harry leaned forward and shook Percy’s hand. “Thanks, Percy.”

“What does he mean about being a toad?” Audrey asked. Percy got real quiet. Harry looked to Ron, who looked to Fleur, who looked back to Harry.

“It’s water under the bridge, Audrey. Percy and I had… a disagreement,” Harry explained. “For a couple of years that sort of put us at sixes and sevens. You know the sort of argument where we’re each were convinced we’re right and refuse to see that the other bloke had a point too. But we’re past it.”

Percy looked up at this, but said nothing. Audrey just nodded.

“This was when he wasn’t talking to his family?” She asked.

“Yeah. But it’s old news, now,” Ron added.

“So, what were Ginny and Molly discussing, as if I had to guess?” Harry asked.

Hermione’s voice came out of the darkness. “They are discussing Ginny’s future living conditions.” She pulled a chair around the table and sat next to Ron when Fleur scooted over.

“How’s she holding up?” Harry asked. He hoped he wasn’t doing the wrong thing by leaving her in there alone.

“She’s actually doing pretty well. Bill, Arthur, and George are all staying out of it. I think Bill wants to say something, but Arthur is keeping him shut. George is just watching right now. I think he’s making sure Ginny doesn’t get ganged up upon, actually. And I think he was up in her room packing her stuff for her earlier.”

Hermione took a sip from Ron’s glass. “Est-ce que c'est de la vigne de votre père?” She asked Fleur.

Fleur smiled in response. “Oui! Mon père nou s’envoyé cinq bouteilles. Je souhaite que nous ayons apporté plus au diner.”

“C'aurait été une excellente idée.” Hermione took another sip, then looked around at the rest of the table. Everyone was grinning at her. “What?”

Harry merely held up his hands. “Nothing at all.”

Percy stared up at the sky, as entranced by the stars as the others. “Ginny’s really not going back to school, is she?”

Harry shook his head. “No. She’s made that abundantly clear, I think. She feels it’s too painful for her. I can’t say I blame her.”

Percy nodded. “Does she… has she ever told you what she wanted to do with her life?”

XxxxxxX

They’d been at it for almost two hours, and it was beginning to get repetitive. Every time Ginny made a point, Molly brought it all back to the same things. “I don’t care, Ginny… I’m not letting my only daughter live like some…”

“Mum, I swear to Merlin if you say ‘scarlet woman’ one more time, I’m going to scream. Do you even know how old-fashioned you sound?” Ginny sat down and crossed her arms across her chest. The frustration she felt was visible on her face.

“But how would it look, Ginny?” Molly asked, trying to at least sound reasonable.

“How would it look to whom, Mother?” Ginny shot back. “Who exactly are these mysterious people waiting to embarrass you over the fact that your daughter and her fiancé are living together? Who?”

“I… Well… It’s just not proper! It’s… it’s… sinful!”

“Mum… did you have this same conversation with Ron? He’s been ‘sinful’ with Hermione for over a year… are you complaining to him, too?” Ginny pushed her hair back away from her face.

“Of course not, Ginny… he’s a boy!” Molly replied. “It’s not the same thing at all!”

“Do you even know how insulting that is? Do you realize how… how… That’s a double-standard! It’s okay for your youngest son to live in sin with his ‘scarlet woman’, but Merlin forefend your daughter move in with her future husband lest some mysterious ‘them’ take note of it and ruin your good name.”

“But… if you only waited until you were married…” Molly said.

“It’s funny you should mention that, actually… I told Harry I wanted to elope. I wanted to get married on Monday.”

“Monday!” The shock on Molly’s face was mirrored on Arthur, Bill, and George’s face. “That’s too fast, Ginny!”

“Yeah, that’s what Harry said.”

“Harry…” Molly’s face grew sour. “This is all his…”

“Mum, please don’t finish that sentence. None of this is his fault. None of this is his idea. If you want to blame anyone for this, blame me.” Ginny was adamant, but Molly still scoffed.

“I bet it was all your idea. I’m sure he was innocent in all of this. He did nothing whatsoever to cause you to just jump into a bed with him, under my own roof, even!” Molly wagged a finger at her daughter.

“You’re right… he did do something. He passed out drunk while I was walking up the stairs with him. You might remember that night… Percy didn’t even make it to the stairs; he slept on a couch that night. And Bill…” Ginny turned her attention to her older brother “… remind us, Bill, of where you slept that night?”

Bill was silent, but at least he had the good grace to look embarrassed.

“Not saying much, Bill? Wasn’t it under the kitchen table?” Ginny smirked. “You didn’t even make it into the sitting room and a couch. So I was only able to get Harry part-way up the stair. You’ve had lots of chances to say something about that when it happened, and didn’t. So you’ve lost your chance, Mum.”

Molly waved it away as if unimportant. “Moving in with a boy you’re not married to… not going back to school… and don’t think I haven’t forgotten about that either, Ginevra Weasley... What do you intend to do with your life without a proper education? You’ll never get a good job…”

“Mum, you do realize that if I marry Harry, I’ll never really have to work another day in my life, right? You do realize that?” Ginny rolled her eyes. “Neither of us would.”

Molly was quiet for a while. When she finally spoke, it was with a suspicious calmness. “I never thought I’d see the day when my daughter became a gold-digger.”

That was enough for Ginny. She stood up, furious at long last. “I’m tired of this. I don’t want to do leave with a bad feeling from arguing with you all night. I’m trying to actually talk to you about my life, but if all you can do is insult me and say nasty things about me, I’m going home.”

Molly’s eyes widened. She sat down heavily into a seat, as if all the energy were drawn out of her. “Ginny… what do you mean? You are home…”

“No, Mum, my home is with Harry now. I love you, but I’m going to be with him from now on,” Ginny sighed and sat back down next to her mother. “I don’t want us to fight, Mum. I want you to be happy for me, and with me. Because I’m happy, don’t you see that? Harry makes me happy.”

Molly sat down next to Ginny. She had tears welling up in her eyes. “I just… You’re my baby, Ginny. I don’t know if I can lose you, too. It just seems like all too much. I don’t want to lose my family…”

“We’re not losing her, Mollywobbles.” Arthur stepped behind his wife and put his hands on her shoulders. “She’s always going to be our baby… it’s just time for us to realize that while she’s always going to be our baby, she’s not a baby any longer.”

Ginny leaned over to her mother and gave Molly as big and as strong a hug as she was capable of. “Mum, it’s okay. We’re not… we’re not dying. We’re just growing up. It’s time you let us do that. For the first time in a very long time, I’m not only happy, I’m content. I’ve found the man I love more than anything else in the world. I want you to be happy for me.”

“But what about… what about becoming a Healer? You’ve always wanted to…”

“No, Mum… you’ve always wanted me to become a Healer. I don’t think I’ve wanted to be a Healer since I stopped listening to that soap opera with you on the wireless. That was always your dream for me, not my dream for me.” Ginny leaned back and took one of her mother’s hands. “We all have to get a chance to do what we want to do, Mum. Bill always wanted to be a curse-breaker; so what does he do for a living? He’s a curse-breaker.” Ginny gave her mother’s hand a squeeze. “Charlie’s been nuts for dragons his entire life. Percy wanted to work in government; and what is he, now; Deputy Undersecretary for International Magical Cooperation or something? George and… Fred… wanted to be professional pranksters and they… George… is the next best thing. Even Ron sort of got to be an Auror, if you count everything he did with Harry and Hermione against V-V-..." She took a deep breath. "Voldemort. So now it’s my turn to do what I want to do.”

“And what do you want to do, Ginny? Do you even know?” Molly wiped tears away from her eyes.

“Yeah, I know what I want to do,” Ginny nodded. “What I really want to do with the rest of my life is… I want to be with Harry. I think I’d be good at it. I want making him happy to be my job.”

Arthur chuckled. At everyone’s glance, he just waved it away. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

“Ginny,” Molly began. “That’s not a job. I know Harry is as rich as Croesus, but I think it’s only right that you have some career…”

Ginny was silent for a while. “Well… yeah… I know what I always wanted to do for a career…”

Molly grinned. “You see! You’re going to need your N.E.W.T.S. then.” Her grin took on a smug quality.

“Not really, Mum.” Ginny smiled back. “Most professional Quidditch teams only look at athletic talent, not academic achievement.”

“Quidditch?” Molly was stunned. “You want to play Quidditch? Professionally?”

“Yeah. I think I’m good enough for it.” Ginny’s smile widened. “I’m as good on a broom as Charlie… maybe better. And he was scouted by the Tornadoes.”

Bill interrupted. “And how do you propose to get a try-out?”

Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know yet. I’m still working on it.”

“Well,” Molly sniffed. “I suppose if that’s what you want to do for the rest of your life…”

“It’s not all I want to do, Mum. It’s just what I want to do right now,” Ginny smiled.

Molly smiled back. “I don’t… I’m sorry, I… Forgive me?”

“Of course, Mum. You’re my Mum, after all… the only one I ever get. I have to forgive you.” Ginny turned her attention to Bill and her voice took on a metallic edge. “Of course, I’m not the one who has been treated like a leper all evening, have I?”

Chapter 26: In The Rot And The Rust…

“Really? That’s very cool. I had no idea.” Harry leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table. He was finding he liked this new version of Percy a lot more than he ever liked the old.

Percy looked confused. “She’s really never told you? I’m surprised, I mean, one would think… what with you two getting engaged and all…”

“Percy! Zhat was rude.” Fleur scowled at him. Audrey, apparently agreeing, slapped Percy on the shoulder.

“Sorry, Fleur.” Percy made an effort to look contrite. “Sorry about that, Harry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I agree… it’s just not anything we’ve discussed. We’ve talked about where we’d live, and… you know… things like kids and such… but I don’t think either of us has talked about what we’ll do for a living.” Harry rubbed his jaw.

Hermione looked aghast. “Harry… One would think that would be a pretty important issue to discuss, wouldn’t one?”

“Not necessarily, Hermione.” Harry thought about it and smiled. “I mean… I was sort of focused on doing something about this annoying wizard who kept coming round and mucking things up every now and again. You actually have to expect you’re going to have a future before you can plan for it.”

“Yeah, well, that’s you,” Percy said. “Ginny told me what she wanted to do for a living… oh, I think it was her third year at Hogwarts. Right after the Quidditch World Cup, she announced to me and George and Fred that she wanted to play Quidditch. You never found out?”

“I remember she said something about playing Quidditch, but I always assumed she was talking about Hogwarts. I thought she wanted to be a Healer. I seem to remember Molly saying something about it.”

“Yeah… Mum said. Not Ginny.” Ron picked up the near empty wine bottle and upended it into his glass.

“So how does one become a professional Quidditch player?” Hermione wondered.

“Get scouted by one of the teams while you’re playing in a match. The teams are always sending scouts to the Hogwarts matches. Or you could be scouted while playing in one of the local leagues.” Speaking about Quidditch, Ron was in his element. “You know… one of the pub league teams? The professional league teams send scouts around to those. And then there are open tryouts. But those don’t happen often.”

“Tricky… with her not being on a House Team…” Harry frowned. “Wonder if any of the pub league teams need a Chaser…”

“What yoo should doo ees owl a Queeditch team an’ zay ‘zis ees ‘arry Pottair, I deman’ zat yoo give my girlfren’ a try-owt,” Fleur giggled. “Use zome of your populairetee.”

Everyone laughed… until Ron suddenly sobered up and said “Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Oh come on, Ron…” Harry said “… What kind of pull do I have with a Quidditch team, anyway?”

Percy lifted his arm and put it around Audrey as she leaned in to him. “I think you would be surprised what your name would bring you right now, Harry. You’re still the man of the hour, you know. It wouldn’t surprise me if the entire League fell over itself giving Ginny a try-out if you asked them to. They’d likely put her on a team regardless; just to say they had your girlfriend…” Percy suddenly frowned, as if something new had occurred to him.

Hermione was still thoughtful. “Yes, but the real question is would Ginny appreciate it if that happened? You know she likes to be as independent as possible…” She looked at Percy and realized that they had come to the same conclusion.

“I’m fine with that,” Harry said. “I think I’d be happier being known as ‘the husband of Ginny Wea… Ginny Potter…” he grinned, and everyone around the table joined him “… than I ever was as the Boy Who Lived or the Chosen One or whatever it is they’re calling me now.”

“I think my favorite so far has been ‘the Man Who Triumphed’. Though the ‘Savior of the Wizarding World’ is a close second.” Ron leaned over and with a wide grin he gave Harry a friendly shove. “Nothing like having your head inflated… “

“Oh shut it, you! You’re one to talk… you’re on a bloody Chocolate Frog Card…” Harry pointed out.

“Yeah, isn’t it cool?”

XxxxxxX

Ginny stood in the door of what used to be her room, looking it over to make sure she wasn’t forgetting anything she wanted to bring. It was, she was discovering, harder to leave than she imagined. This room had been her own sanctuary within the larger Weasley home for her entire life… and now it wasn’t any longer. And that, Ginny found, hurt just a little.

Ginny turned from the room to look at Molly, standing right behind her. “Well… I think that’s all of it.” She turned and hugged her mother, knowing that regardless of how much leaving stung, her mother was feeling it all the more. “I’ll be okay, Mum. I’m not disappearing. I’ll be back, just like the rest of the kids…”

“It’s different, Ginny. It’s different with you. I’ve grown used to Bill and Charlie not being here. Even Percy and George, really. But you’ll always be my baby.” Molly kissed her cheek and hugged her again.

“I know, Mum. I’ll always be your baby. Even when I have babies of my own, I’ll be your baby.” Ginny felt a sudden pang of homesickness. Strange, seeing as she hadn’t left yet… “I love you, Mum. I… I should collect Harry up. It’s getting late and we need to go… home.”

Molly nodded but couldn’t say anything. “All right, dear. You’ll… you’ll have to invite your father and me, or you know… the family… over when you’ve settled. Maybe have us over for dinner.”

Ginny smiled. “That would be fun. Well… I’ll talk to you later, Mum.” She turned from her mother and walked down the stairs. Behind her, Molly entered her daughter’s former room and sat down on the bed. She was crying within minutes.

Ginny stepped into the parlor. She smiled at George and Bill, trying to muddle through her feelings. “Well… we’re going to go. I’ll see you both later. Mum wants me to invite everyone over once we get settled. So I’ll… I’ll get in touch once we’re ready to do that.”

“Sounds good. You know I’m always up for eating.” George hugged her.

“Ginny…” Bill ran a hand through his hair and sighed. He nodded to her, but his face was still glum.

Ginny approached her older brother and hugged him. “It’s okay, Bill. Say what you have to say. I’d like to get it all out now, so there’s nothing hanging over our heads.”

Bill nodded. “Ginny… I know you well enough… to see how much you care for Harry. And I see the way he looks at you. I know you both love each other, but… you’re both so young.” He made a vague gesture with one of his hands, as if not sure what to say next. “Are you certain about this, Ginny? Are you certain that this is what you want? You’ve got so much time ahead of you…”

Ginny snorted. An odd, offended look crept across her face, only to be replaced by confusion. “Bill, how can you ask me that? Am I certain? Don’t you trust me enough to know…? Bill…” her face softened; her older brother wasn’t looking at her, but was carefully studying his shoes “… Bill, look at me.” When his eyes finally met hers, she simply nodded. “Yes, Bill… I’m sure.”

He sighed again. “Look, Ginny… I don’t want to hurt you… it’s just that, well, you’ve been by baby sister for all your life and I’ve kind of got into the habit of looking out for you. I want you to be happy, and I just want to be sure you’re going to be. With Harry, I mean. Don’t get me wrong, he’s a great guy… in fact, given everything he’s been through I’m amazed at how wonderful he turned out. I just worry about you. It’s part of my job, being your brother.”

“I know. It’s all right, Bill. We’ll be fine together. I promise. And if I ever need help, I’ll come ask you for it, okay?” Ginny gave her brother a hug.

“Yeah…” Bill stood and walked her to the door. “If he hurts you…”

“I know, Bill.” She smiled at him, waved goodbye, and was out the door.

XxxxxxX

Sunday morning...

Harry and Ginny sat under the awning, listening to the tapping of the raindrops on the tiles and watching the back garden breathe around them. The large, enclosed garden… though garden wasn’t the right word… it was more like a small part enclosed on two sides by row-houses and on the other two by iron fencing and ivy… had come as a pleasant surprise, and he could easily see Ginny and himself enjoying warmer nights and cool days here. They’d only discovered it by accident that morning, when Ginny found the back door while looking through the pantry.

It was a huge yard, green and growing, with trees, and flowers, and benches, and it was perfect for them. They’d quickly decided to eat their breakfast outdoors. Harry had taken a quick look to make sure none of their Muggle neighbors were watching, and then conjured a deck table and two chairs. The pair now sat, drinking tea and exchanging pages of the Daily Prophet. They’d yet to work out an equitable system of who-got-what-section first, but they were working on it.

“We’re going to have to get something more permanent for out here,” Ginny said. She laid the Quidditch pages down on the table and smiled at what the day portended. “These are all well and good, but… how long do your conjured objects tend to last, Harry?”

“Mmm? Oh… yes, sounds lovely. Let’s do that,” Harry said vaguely.

Ginny scowled at him for a moment, and then laughed. “Darling…”

“Yes, Ginny?” Harry said.

“Seamus Finnigan is coming over later. I was thinking about shagging him on the couch while you watched. What do you think?” Ginny grinned expectantly.

“Oh… certainly, Ginny, I think that’s a great idea.” Harry flipped the page over to continue reading and lifted his cup to his mouth. He was about to take a sip when something must have lodged in his consciousness. “Wait… what?” He sat up and stared at her.

“I asked you how long your conjured objects tended to last,” Ginny grinned.

“Oh… I thought you said something about… never mind… um… a couple of hours, I suppose.” Harry smiled at her. “Sorry, did I drift off?”

“Yes, you did. What are you reading?”

“Ah… it’s an article about the upcoming trials for the surviving death eaters.” Harry looked thoughtful. “I expect we’re going to be called in to testify.”

“Yes, likely.” Ginny’s brow furrowed. “So what’s the matter?”

Harry looked uncomfortable. “Malfoy. I… it’s hard to explain.”

“Draco or Lucius?”

“Draco. I don’t think he deserves to go to prison… not with everything else that’s happened to him.” Harry looked guilty. “I don’t like him. I hate him, in fact. I think he was callous, cruel, and black-hearted, but he was never murderous… quite far from it, in fact. I know for a fact it’s the one thing we can’t accuse him of.”

“Dumbledore.” The single word from her was as much an accusation against him as it was against Malfoy.

“No… that wasn’t murder. That was assisted suicide.” Harry shook his head. “Dumbledore worked it out months ahead-of-time with Snape… he was dying anyway, and used his death to further the cause against Voldemort.”

“So what do you…?” Ginny was confused. She didn’t like being confused.

“I think I’m going to testify on his behalf. I owe his mother a life-debt… keeping Draco Malfoy from rotting in prison will be my repayment of that debt.” Harry threw back the rest of his tea and swallowed.

“You owe her a…” Ginny was quiet. “And what about Lucius?”

“Lucius can rot in a cell for all I care.” Harry’s eyes were dark. He hoped she didn’t argue with him about this, or if she did she was quick to forgive.

“Well…” Ginny said after a pause “… that’s one thing we can agree on, then. Do you really feel strongly about Draco?”

“Yeah.”

“All right. I don’t like it, but I understand it. You are sometimes too noble for your own good.” Ginny finished her tea. “Now… what do you think of some garden furniture?”

Harry laughed. “I suppose. I never knew until today the house had a back door, much less access to a shared garden.” He flipped his pages over. “What do you have in mind? Metal? Glass? Plastic? Maybe cherry wood or pine?”

“What’s plastic?” She looked confused.

“It’s something the Muggles use because they can’t cast Waterproofing Charms,” Harry said. “We can take a look and see what we like. We’ll have to find a garden shop, I think.”

“It would give us something to do today that’s out of the house,” Ginny smiled. “I’d like for us to paint the bedrooms today, though, and the sitting room. There is far too much black, dark green, and silver in this house for my taste.”

“That sounds fine, Ginny,” Harry said. “The furniture doesn’t arrive until tomorrow, though. Are you sure you don’t want to wait until then to paint the rooms? That way you can make sure it matches.”

“No, I want to finish making this our home as quickly as…” Ginny trailed off. “Harry, I think we’ve been spotted.”

Harry followed her gaze. A middle-aged woman dressed in a white jogging suit was looking at them strangely. The woman was holding the leash to a rather fat pug, which was at that moment contentedly piddling on one of the flowerbeds.

Harry smiled and waved. “Good morning! How are you today?” He turned and looked at Ginny. Quietly, he said “I suppose this means the charms are down…”

The woman was surprised by the greeting. Suddenly aware that she was staring, she smiled at Harry and Ginny and tried her best to recover. “Oh, yes… good morning! I’m Mrs. Rooney from next door. Are you two guests of the Dannatt’s?” She approached with her hand extended.

Harry stood and met her at the edge, shaking her hand in greeting. “I’m Harry Potter, this is Ginny. I’m sorry, but we don’t know the Dannatt’s. We… er… moved in just last week. This is our first time enjoying the garden, obviously.”

“You moved in? Mrs. Rooney looked confused. “You mean the Dannatt’s moved out? That’s strange… I saw Louise Dannatt just last night… she never…” The woman looked more closely at Harry and Ginny’s patio, and then peered past them at the patio to their left. “Wait… that’s Louise’s bird feeder over there…” She straightened for a moment. “Now that’s odd…”

Harry looked to Ginny. Her eyes were as nervous as he knew his were. “What would be odd, Mrs. Rooney?”

“Well… I don’t ever remember noticing a whole new house in between the Donnatt’s and…” She stepped past to peer more closely at the Donnatt’s back stoop. “No, that’s definitely…” She stood still, simply staring for a moment. “Well… isn’t that strange?”

The fat pug waddled to Ginny and sat at her feet. Ginny, not sure what to make of the dog, looked to Harry, then to their neighbor.

“Oh don’t mind him. Anthony is harmless, and friendly. He’s never met a stranger in his life. Just scratch him behind the ears and he’ll be happy.” Mrs. Rooney turned her attention back to Harry. “So… Mister Potter did you say? Well… I suppose a welcome to the neighborhood is in order. Odd, though… Oh well… I must be getting a bit senile in my old age. Sorry to bother you with it.” It was plain to Harry that the woman didn’t consider herself old, and if Harry were a betting man he’d say the woman was only a year or two older than Molly.

“No trouble at all. I’ve had that happen before, myself,” Ginny added, trying to get the Muggle woman past the fact that Number 12 had been magically hidden for decades. “I remember walking down Charing Cross and suddenly passed a pub I swear hadn’t been there the day before.”

“Hmmm… yes. Well… so what business are you in, Mister Potter?” Mrs. Rooney asked.

“Ah… well… I’m in law enforcement,” Harry said vaguely. “I’ve just joined the… um… force. But it’s a career I’ve wanted my entire life.”

“And do you work, Mrs. Potter?”

Harry and Ginny looked at each other, but neither felt the need to correct her. “Not presently, though I hope to be in the future. I’m a bit of an athlete, and will be trying out for several teams…” Ginny was intentionally non-specific. She and Harry had gone to bed talking about the plans she had for her future.

“Oh, you’re one of those female footballers, then? Excellent! Good for you, good for you. I do so hope the two of you will be happy here. I think we’ve got a grand neighborhood… you’re not the only young family.” Mrs. Rooney smiled, and Harry was struck by how similar to Molly Weasley she actually appeared. 

“The McCabe’s over there…” Mrs. Rooney pointed to the back of a house on the opposite side of the shared garden, in the far left corner “… they’re but a few years older than the two of you… they just had their second child. He’s in advertising, I think. Now, the Dances…” she pointed to the house to the immediate right of the McCabe’s “… are an older couple. Their grandchildren sometimes play back here. The next house is owned by a man named Oxley. He’s a chef, I think.” Mrs. Rooney leaned in to Harry, as if sharing a great confidence. “He lives there with another man… his boyfriend, I think… must be twenty years younger. It’s a scandal!” She pointed to the last of the houses across the way. “That’s the Adedeji’s… a Paki couple. They’re nice enough, I suppose, though I’m not sure they fit the neighborhood, if you know what I mean.”

Ginny glowered. Harry spoke up quickly, wanting to avoid a public argument. “Yes, well… I suppose we should be getting inside, if we’re ever to get any of the painting done… Nice meeting you, Mrs. Rooney.” He turned back to Ginny and started guiding her back into the house.

“Very nice meeting you as well, Mister Potter!”

Once the door was closed, Ginny exploded. “Oh, the Paki couple isn’t good enough to be amongst us stuck up busy-bodies.”

Harry laughed. “I actually think she was more offended by the gay bloke and his live-in boyfriend.”

Ginny giggled. “So… do we Obliviate her, or are we going to be a part of the neighborhood and hope no one notices? Or do we Obliviate and then be a part of the neighborhood and hope no one notices?”

Harry thought about it… “Ginny, let’s make that decision later,” he laughed.

She smiled brightly at him. “Come here.”

He came to her, and his thoughts were filled with words like “beautiful” and “sensuous”, and when she kissed him, with words like “oh my.”

Chapter 27: In The Ashes And The Dust…

Her eyelids fluttered open. 

The light stabbed in like knives, piercing her skull and making her whimper. 

Everything was blurry, and nothing was making sense.  She hurt!  Why did she hurt?  Where was… 

“...is unconscious.  Pupils were responsive.  She’s intubated…” 

Her eye fluttered closed.  The darkness hovered over her like a shroud. 

“…pulse is thready and her blood pressure is dropping.  I think she’s bleeding internall…” 

It hurt and she couldn’t move there was pressure on her head and on her arms and on her legs and it hurt to breathe and she wanted to cough and she couldn’t cough because there was something down her throat and it was making her want to cough but she couldn’t cough because there was something down her throat and SHE HURT OH MERLIN SHE HURT SHE HURT SHE HURT… 

“…compound fractures in the left tibia and fibula, closed fracture of the left medial humerus…” 

And the darkness came out of nowhere and swallowed her. 

XxxxxxX 

Her eyelids fluttered open.  The light wasn’t as intense here.  All she could see was ceiling.  All around her she could hear many people talking all at once and ominous beeping noises and something making a strange WHEEZE-WHEEZE sound. 

“…aspirating blood, looks like one of her lungs is punctured.  Probably from a rib… have to wait until the X-Rays get back, but I know a crushed ribcage when I…” 

She tried to scream but wasn’t able to make any sounds.  The tube in her throat… she hurt… but there was a strange fizzle in her blood that made things floaty… 

A shape leaned over her.  “Doctor… I think she’s awake…” A small light flashed in her eyes and she blinked. 

Another shape leaned over her.  “Do we have a name for her yet?  Any identification?  Damn it!”  She felt a hand in hers.  “Young lady, I’m Doctor Ramayana…” a male voice on a dark indistinct shape “can you understand me?  If you can understand me, can you give my hand a squeeze?  Don’t try to talk, just give my hand a squeeze.” 

His voice was a life-raft and she grasped his hand as tightly in hers as she could.  The pain caused by the action brought tears to her eyes. 

“Thank you, young lady… It’s good to know you’re still in there.  You’ve been in an accident.  You were struck by a lorry and are quite injured, but we’re doing everything we can to help.  If you understand me, please squeeze my hand again.” 

She did so, as best she could.  She tried to say something, but again couldn’t. 

“…No, no… Don’t try to talk… We have you on a ventilator.  It’s breathing for you right now.” The form pulled away from her.  “Tell Doctor Bligh to warm up Surgery Two… we need to get her up there yesterday.” 

She blinked, trying to clear her eyes of tears. 

And the darkness once again swallowed her whole. 

XxxxxxX 

Voices.  They dragged her out of the shadows.  The light was dimmer… less hostile… but still not friendly… her vision had cleared.  The ceiling had dots all over it.  And there were wires and tubes hanging over her head, coming down to somewhere on the bed.  The beeping and the wheezing were still there. 

She didn’t hurt so much… mostly she floated.  She tried turning her head, but found it the most difficult thing in the world to do.  Someone had put lead in her skull and now it weighed more than the Burrow… 

The voices… 

A man’s voice.  “…in for a rocky ride… I hope we plugged up all the internal injuries… I’d hate to have to crack her open again.” 

She wondered idly who they were talking about.  Sounded bad, whoever it was.  Just as idly she wondered where Harry was… they were supposed to meet for lunch, and if she didn’t get up she wouldn’t be able to meet him for lunch… 

A different voice.  A woman’s voice.  “The nurse who inventoried her effects said that she was wearing an engagement ring inscribed ‘Harry and Ginevra, Always’, so I suppose her first name is Ginevra.  Still no idea about her last name but at least we know someone will be looking for her.” 

The realization they were talking about her came as a bit of a shock.  She didn’t know where she was or why she was here, and didn’t want to be here anymore, but she couldn’t move.  It took all her strength just to move her head but a little. 

“Did she just….?  I think she’s waking up.  One second…” a handsome, older man leaned over her face, smiling down on her.  “Hi there… I won’t ask how you’re feeling because I’m betting I have a better idea than you do.  Is your name Ginevra?” 

She tried to correct him, but the tube down her throat made it impossible for her to speak.  She nodded, vaguely, accepting the fact that she’d have to be called by her real name. 

“Ginevra, my name is Thomas Bligh.  I’m a surgeon.  Today, I’m your surgeon.  Do you know where you are?” 

Rather automatically, her brow furrowed, then immediately un-furrowed.  It hurt too much to keep it that way.  She tried shaking her head, but all she really accomplished was a slight wiggle. 

“I’m guessing that means no… you’re at Whittington Hospital, in the Critical Care ward.  Has someone told you yet that you were in an accident?” 

She thought back… there was a vague memory of something, but… it was gone.  She wiggled again. 

“Ginevra, you were struck by a lorry while crossing the street and were gravely injured.  I’ll tell you more about it later, because right now I need you to rest.  It is very important that you just rest and let your body heal.  We’re going to try and find your family and let them know what happened to you.  Do you understand?” 

She nodded just enough for it to be detectable. 

“Thank you, Ginevra.  Now, I’ve got you on a pretty serious painkiller right now, so you’re not going to be in the mood to do much more than rest.  That’s all I want you to do, okay?  Just rest.  Someone will come by later on and check on you.” 

The doctor withdrew, leaving her to stare at the ceiling again.  Behind her, the wheeze-wheezes continued, as did the beeping.  Resting sounded good.  Hell of a thing, though, getting hit by a truck… Hermione said it would happen if she didn’t start looking where she was going… 

XxxxxxX 

The pain came back, seeking bloody vengeance.  Her eyes barely opened.  Something was grinding against something else inside and she could barely breathe… the air was coming in, she could feel it… but it wasn’t helping somehow. 

Voices… growing more and more distant by the second… 

“… crash...  ing right fuc… surg… need… open… all… it…” 

Involuntarily her chest convulsed, and something warm and wet dribbled down her chin and out of her nose. 

This time it wasn’t dark… it was white… 

XxxxxxX 

Ginny stood and stretched, enjoying the sunshine.  It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining brightly in a perfectly blue afternoon sky.  The grass felt good beneath her bare feet and for a moment she simply stood there, making little fists with her toes. 

She smiled as she looked around.  The Burrow always made her smile.  Ginny knew that it wasn’t perfect, but it was the inherent imperfection of the place that made it home.  The family didn’t care… there was always room and love for everyone. 

She threw her arms out wide and spun in place for a moment, just from the sheer joy of the day.  Then she turned toward the garden gate.  All she needed to do now was walk up the path toward the village. 

“Amazing… for me it was the Burrow as well.”  Fred was standing on the far side of the gate, leaning on it.  “I wonder if the rest of the family will come here first.  Hello, Ginny… when I found out someone was coming, I have to admit I never expected that it would be you.  Mum, maybe, or Dad… maybe even George if he did something tragic and stupid… but that’s all right.” 

“Fred!  Oh, Fred!  It’s so good to see you again!  Are you going to walk with me to the village?”  Ginny gave her older brother a kiss on the cheek.  “I’ve got so much to tell you!  I got engaged!” 

“I heard that somewhere.  To Harry, no less!  I never knew he had it in him.”  Fred returned the hug with a smile.  “As for the walk… I’ve got good news and bad news… which would you want first?” 

“Oh, the good news, definitely!”  Ginny kept a hand around Fred’s waist.  This really was too good a day, and for some reason all she felt was love and affection for everyone, especially her older brother. 

“All right, then, the good news first.”  Fred took a deep breath.  “Ginny, the good news is that you’re going to have a long and relatively happy life.  There will be hard times, of course, but you’re going to come through them all the stronger.  Remember that no matter what happens Harry truly loves you.  At one point in your life you’re going to think that it is all over and that Harry hates you, but if you ask him to forgive you he’s going to take you back and you’ll rebuild.  Your children and grand-children are going to make you so proud, Ginny… it’s going to be wonderful.” 

“Thanks, Fred… it’s good to know that I’ll have a happy life,” Ginny said.  “And of course Harry will take me back… he’s Harry!  We love each other.”  She was confused for a moment.  “Wait… take me back from what?” 

Fred laughed.  “It doesn’t matter, Ginny, because you’re not going to remember anything specific… just that you had a wonderful dream about your older brother.” 

“Oh.  That’s all right, then, I suppose.”  Ginny was quiet for a moment.  “So what’s the bad news?” 

Fred hugged her, and for the first time his mood seemed to wilt like an old flower.  “I can’t walk to the village with you, because you’re not walking to the village.  You’re going back, soon.” 

“What?  No… I have to go to the village…” Ginny began crying. 

“Muggle doctors are actually better than Healers in one area, Ginny… You see, they don’t give up just because your heart stops.  They try and get your heart going again, and for the most part, they’re really, really good at it.  Sometimes it doesn’t work, but often it does.” 

“I don’t understand, Fred.  What are you talking about?”  Ginny was mystified. 

“I know you don’t understand, Ginny.  But that’s okay.  Just know that I love you and I’ll see you later.  Much later.  Tell everyone I said I love them, okay?”  Fred pulled back from her, and she could see that he was crying. 

“Fred?”  For the first time, there was fear.  “Fred, what if I don’t want…” 

There was a white flash… 

XxxxxxX 

She opened her eyes very slowly, and after a few moments the ceiling swam into clear view.  The dots were back, just floating up there on the ceiling.  Little tiny dots.  A man was standing next to her bed with a clipboard.  He was doing something to a big machine that was occasionally beeping.  The man would fiddle, then write on the clipboard, then fiddle, then write.  His face was hidden by a white paper mask. 

There was a bright flare of light just above her bed, and behind the man, and she felt something strike the very light sheet she was covered in.  The man had caught the light’s reflection and whirled around.  He seemed to study her and her bed… 

“Huh.  What’s that doing here?”  She felt the man pick something from the blanket above her abdomen.  He held it closer to his face to get a better look.  “Harry and Ginevra, Always… I thought they had this in safe storage.  Oh well…”  The man tossed the ring into the air and caught it.  “Must be worth a couple of hundred… finders keepers.” 

She tried to make some noise to attract some attention to stop the man who was walking away with her ring, it was hers… but she couldn’t do much more than lay there and make a strange gurgle.  The man walked away from her bed, whistling. 

Less than a minute later, there was a flare of light, and her ring landed on the sheets above her abdomen.  She couldn’t help but smile at that. 

Without knowing she did, she drifted off to sleep… 

XxxxxxX 

As she had for a while, she came awake slowly.  The lights had been dimmed and she got the impression that it was the middle of the night.  She could hear someone shuffling around, out of sight.  If it hadn’t been for the pain-killers sizzling through her blood, she would have been terrified, she knew.  Her entire body felt… distant… for some reason, and it was all bearable. 

It occurred to her that she had something to say to people, but she had forgotten the message already.  And she remembered talking to someone, but who exactly… she couldn’t remember that either.  Fred maybe… it was a dream after all. 

Her eyes went wide as a dark form loomed over her.  It had messy hair, and glasses. 

“Ginny… ?  Ginny!  I don’t know if you can… can hear me… I don’t know if you’re even still in there… it’s Harry… I’ve been looking for you all day, and… I’m sorry it took me so long to find you… It didn’t occur to me to contact the Muggle police… I am so sorry… oh, Ginny, look what’s been done to you… oh, baby… I love you, Ginny… please… I’m here… I’m here for you, baby…” 

He took her hand, and she immediately gave it a squeeze.  She knew, almost instinctively, that he needed the reassurance. 

“Ginny?  Did you just… Ginny?”  She gave his hand another squeeze.  “Oh, Thank God!  Ginny… I love you… I’m going to get you out of here and to some real Healers, Ginny… You’re going to be… You’re doing just…”  He kept interrupting himself.  She hated when he did that. 

She gave his hand one more squeeze and drifted back to sleep.

Chapter 28: Life Carries On And On And On And On

Earlier

Ginny leaned as far back as she could. The trouble it took to wash hair as long as hers was one of the few problems she ever had with it. Her hair caused her to take longer in the shower than most of the girls she shared a dorm with, for example, and sometimes making sure it was well-rinsed caused her to assume strange positions. Like now, for example; she was standing on the balls of her feet, leaning as far back as she could without falling. All this so she could put all of her hair into the stream of water at once.

She could tell that Harry had said something, but the water had kept her from hearing. Squeezing the water out of her hair, she pulled back the shower curtain. “I’m sorry, love… what was that?”

Harry looked at her, surprised. His toothbrush was deep in his mouth as he used it to clean his back teeth. He grinned awkwardly, trying not to spit foam all over himself. He spit quickly and said, “I said, ‘I was hoping to meet you for lunch after I get done at the Ministry.’ What do you think?” He resumed brushing.

She smiled at him. “Great idea! Lunch is a lovely idea, and it would give me a chance to get out of the house today. Where?”

He shrugged, still brushing his teeth. Ginny pursed her lips and said, “Well… um… since we’re going to be living as part of the Muggle neighborhood, maybe we could find a place here in Islington? I mean, we can go to Diagon Alley any day. I think it would be good for us to know about our neighborhood. What do you think?”

He shrugged again, still brushing. She sighed, loudly and with not a small amount of exaggeration. “I swear, sometimes you’re as bad as Ron!” She closed the shower curtain and got back under the warm water. I swear, sometimes he’s got all the sensitivity and imagination of a brick…

The shower curtain opened up and Harry looked at her. “I think it’s a fine idea, taking a look around the neighborhood and seeing what’s there. I just don’t know what’s there. So I’ll tell you what… you take a walk later and find us a nice place to eat lunch. I’ll meet you at the house and you can lead me to it, all right?” His smile was just enough to placate her.

“That sounds like a fine idea, Harry.” She stepped out of the water, pulling her hair through her hands to get some of the water out of it. Ginny opened her eyes just in time to catch him staring at her breasts which, because of her arm movements, were currently pointing right at him. She dropped her arms to her sides and stood there for a moment. “See anything you like, Mister Potter?” Ginny said with a wry smile.

Harry gulped and closed the shower curtain, causing Ginny to giggle uncontrollably. They’d grown more comfortable to being undressed around each other, but there was still a tangible sexual tension between them. While they’d experimented here and there (the warm memories of some of their experiments caused Ginny to blush to her toes) she was holding to the promise she made to her mother. She was still, at least technically, a virgin and planned on staying that way until her wedding night.

Ginny heard the bathroom door close behind Harry as he walked out and she smiled. It still amazed her that she had such an effect on him. She supposed she shouldn’t be too surprised, given his effect on her, but there it was.

She turned off the water and reached for her towels. Harry had once remarked on the fact that she used three towels to his one for every shower. “I just don’t get it,” he had said. “You get a towel, you use it to dry off, and you’re done.” Harry had said that as if he was explaining a basic law of the universe. Shaking her head at the memory, Ginny carefully wrapped her hair in one of the towels, and wrapped the second around her body. She then used the third towel to dry herself. Why Harry had such a hard time with the basic concept Ginny would never understand.

Ginny left the bathroom and entered the bedroom. Their bedroom! She thought to herself. Of course, it didn’t actually feel much like a bedroom right now. The mattress they slept on and their old Hogwarts trunks, both bursting with every piece of clothing they owned, were the only sticks of furniture in the room. That would be remedied today, though, which was a good thing.

She picked over her meager wardrobe, looking for something that didn’t make her look too much like a teenager. Unfortunately, while living at her mother’s house, she was pretty much forced into the role whether she wanted to or not. As a result, her supply of “grown-up clothes” was the smallest part of an already limited set of choices when it came to dressing herself.

She pulled a complete set of underwear, some light slacks, and a t-shirt out of her trunk. Ginny picked up her wand from Harry’s trunk and waved it over her clothing, removing the wrinkles they had accumulated. Wrinkles were a downside of keeping everything in a school trunk.

Ginny had mentioned her small selection of clothing to Harry Saturday night, the night she moved in “for real”, as Harry put it. He, being the wonderful, foolish, and sometimes insensitively caring Harry that she loved, immediately offered to go out with her and buy her every piece of clothing she could ever want. I’m never going to get used to money not being a concern in my life anymore, she thought to herself. But I don’t want Harry thinking I’m just in it for his money. And no matter how many times Harry told her that it would be their money as soon as they were married, she couldn’t get the idea out of her head that it was his money they were talking about.

Still, she thought as she pulled on her shirt, there is no hiding the fact that Harry is rich and I am marrying him, and thus will have access to his wealth. He’s said he wants me to get used to it, but I can’t just go out and spend willy-nilly…

Harry stuck his head in the door just as she was pulling on her slacks. “I’m going to head out now, Gin… is there anything last minute that you need me for?”

She buttoned her pants and held her arms out wide. At his confused look, she gave him the universal “come here, right now” sign by wiggling her fingers. Harry smiled and embraced her. “Love you, Harry,” she whispered in his ear. “Have a good time at the Ministry.” Ginny kissed his cheek and let him go. She was suddenly feeling very melancholy.

As if picking up her mood, he grinned at her. He brought her chin up with his hand. “I’m only going to be gone a couple of hours. Honestly, Ginevra… What could possibly happen?” Harry kissed her once, gently.

Ginny glared at him. “You know I hate that name.”

“I know.” His grin widened.

“Then why do you insist on using it?” She asked.

“Because I don’t hate it.” And with that, he left. She heard him almost bounce down the stairs. Moments later, he was out the door and gone.

XxxxxxX

Earlier

With a loud CRACK, Harry appeared out of nowhere in a deserted alleyway. He quickly glanced around to make sure no one had seen him. Confident he’d appeared unnoticed, he crossed the street to a bright red public phone box. He lifted the phone’s receiver, dialed 62442, and replaced the receiver on its hook.

When the indifferent-sounding female voice asked his name and his business, he responded “Harry Potter. I’m here for an appointment with the Minister of Magic about a job, to… um… get my house’s fireplace hooked into the Floo network, to pick up my Apparation License, and possibly… to um… speak to a prisoner awaiting trial.” While the voice went on to caution him about having his wand checked at security, a white identification badge appeared in the phone’s change slot. He glanced at the badge and laughed.

Harry Potter
Hectic Morning

As the lift lowered him toward the Atrium, he had to admire the sense of humor of whomever it was that issued the badges.

After his wand was inspected (and Harry’s hand shaken enthusiastically) by the Security Wizard, Harry turned toward the lift. Let’s see… the Department of Magical Transportation is on… level six, he thought to himself. While he was waiting for the lift’s cage to return to this level, his thoughts turned to Ginny. She’s making that ratty old house feel like home for me…

“Mister Potter! Mister Potter, I’m Elliot Seabring, with the Prophet… can I interrupt you for a short interview?”

Harry was drawn out of his reverie by a short, roundish wizard with heavy mutton-chop sideburns. He scanned the rest of the atrium and didn’t spot any other reporters. “What would the purpose of this interview be, Mister Seabring?”

“Just human interest, I assure you. You’ve been keeping out of sight lately, but I assure you our readers want to know what’s happening in the life of Harry Potter!” Seabring’s eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. “So… do you mind?”

Harry sighed, but couldn’t think of any reason to refuse. “All right, Mister Seabring… you’ve got until the lift returns.”

“Thank you, Mister Potter. First question: you’ve effectively been a recluse since your defeat of You-Know-Who…”

“Voldemort. Or Tom Riddle,” Harry interrupted.

“Sorry?” Seabring looked confused.

“His name was Tom Riddle. He called himself Voldemort. The man’s dead, sir… if you’re going to keep hiding behind ‘You-Know-Who’ and ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’…” Harry looked exasperated.

“Ah… yes, I gather your point, sir. Sorry… Anyway, since your defeat of V-Vol… of Riddle, you’ve been almost a recluse. I’m sure the readers of the Prophet would be interested in knowing just what the Savior of the Wizarding World’s been doing with his life since then. I assume that you’ve become engaged to marry… we all saw the article in Witch Weekly…”

Harry smiled. “Actually, Witch Weekly got it wrong. You see, on that day, my best mate Ron… that’s Ronald Weasley… was shopping for a ring, and in his case the lucky witch is Hermione Granger. I was there strictly for moral support.”

Seabring’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, that’s interesting. Two of the three of you, falling in love like that… just wonderful… good for them!“ The reporter jotted a few things down. Harry noted he was using a self-inking quill, but was writing in his own hand. No Quick-Quotes Quill for this man, apparently. “So I suppose that that puts you back on the Eligible Bachelors list…”

“Now, I wouldn’t say that…” Harry blurted. He immediately blushed. He hadn’t meant to respond, but the reporter was too quick on the uptake for Harry to cover it up.

“So… there is some young lady out there to whom you have dedicated yourself?” The reporter smiled.

“Yes, you could say that…” Harry said. “As to what we’ve been doing, let’s just say that I am busily building a normal life for myself with the young woman who will one day become my wife. If you’ll excuse me for saying so, I want my private life to remain just that… private. I appreciate that I’m a celebrity and that there’s a great interest in how I live my life, but I’ll not have my family… ah… saved by the lift. Have a good day, sir.”

“And you, sir. Thank you for talking to me.” Seabring held a hand out as the lift’s door opened. Harry smiled and shook the man’s hand, then headed for Level Six and the Department of Magical Transportation.

XxxxxxX

Earlier

Ginny sipped her tea and made a face. Harry liked the Ceylon tea blend, but Ginny just thought it was bitter. And unfortunately, since Harry was up and around first, it was Harry’s choice for tea this morning. For a moment, she considered telling Kreacher to throw it out and make her some Earl Grey or some Darjeeling, but her frugal upbringing couldn’t let her do it.

But she did find that she liked reading the Daily Prophet on the back patio, drinking tea, and relaxing in the mornings. The quality of the stories found in the Prophet had actually improved since the end of the war… no doubt the fact that the Shacklebolt government had cut all administrative ties and influences had something to do with that.

The back door to the house opened, and Kreacher’s voice called out, “Mistress Ginny… there is a man at the front door. He says he is here with the new furniture.” The house-elf didn’t have permission to leave the house, and besides he couldn’t be seen by the surrounding Muggles.

Ginny stood up. “Well, then… let’s go talk to him, shall we?” She stepped past Kreacher, walking to the ground floor and the front door. The man standing just outside the door was the spitting image of a Muggle workman, even down to the slouch hat he was worrying between his hands. “Good morning. May I help you?” Ginny asked.

“Yes, ma’am…” The man pronounced it as “mum”, which made Ginny smile. “Are you the Missus Potter? I’ve got a crate of furniture for the Potter residence, and this is the given address.”

“Yes… um… that’s correct.” Ginny didn’t bother correcting the man’s assumption of her marital status. “This is the Potter residence. Bring it right in, please.”

The man turned from the door and gestured to someone outside. Craning her neck past the man, she saw a lorry on the curb. “You’re using a Muggle truck?” She asked.

“Yes, ma’am… easier to camouflage that way,” he responded. His two partners pulled a tall crate from the back of their truck and lugged it inside. “Where should we put this for the unloading, ma’am?”

“Oh, this way… the dining room should be big enough.” Ginny led the workmen into the long dining room just off the entry hall. “Go ahead and put it anywhere…” she waved her arms at the empty room “… because we obviously have plenty of space right now.”

At Ginny’s prompting, the three workers placed the crate in the room’s far corner. Meticulously, they opened the various locks that ran along one side, popping the lid of the crate open. “There you go, ma’am… everything you ordered is there. Now then, it says on your delivery order that setting up the furniture will be your look out… I mean to say that we are not expected to set up your arrangements, Missus.”

Ginny nodded. “That’s fine. I can get our house-elf to assist me. Thank you gentlemen.” She walked them to the door and saw them out.”

Ginny looked into the crate. It was much larger on the inside than the out, and seemed to contain every piece of furniture Harry and she had picked out during their visit to Hogsmeade. “Kreacher, it looks like you and I have our work cut out for us.” Ginny rubbed her hands together. “Well, let’s get started. These things won’t arrange themselves.”

“Yes, Mistress…”

XxxxxxX

Earlier

“Yes, but that’s why I’m Minister of Magic. I stepped in and provided leadership when there was none, so when the question arose, I was already there.” Kingsley Shacklebolt tapped the tips of his fingers together. “Of course, the truth is, I wasn’t the first choice.”

“Is that true? Who, then, besides you? I suppose I could see Arthur Weasley in the position…” Harry began.

“Actually the first choice was you, Harry.”

Harry was dumbstruck. He supposed that the surprise he felt just then would have only been exceeded if, last May, Voldemort had appeared at the gates of Hogwarts, picked up Gryffindor’s sword, and gutted himself with it rather than attack the school.

“You’re joking. That’s what it is, right? You’re having me on… taking the piss out of me…” Harry honestly couldn’t believe what he was being told.

“Harry… you killed Voldemort. You ended the war. I don’t know if you’ve realized this yet…” Shacklebolt leaned forward in his chair “… but you’re considered something of a hero. You’re the most popular man in Britain right now. And to tell you the truth, I may be actually understating how the public feels about you.”

“But I’m not a hero. I’m not a hero at all,” Harry muttered.

Shacklebolt raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

“I’m not a hero. I made mistakes and people died because of them. What everyone calls ‘heroics’ were moments of pain and terror and loss. Nothing more.” Harry looked askance at Shacklebolt. “Do you know what I wanted right after Voldemort died? To sleep. That’s all. I didn’t want to catch up a beautiful woman and crush her to my manly chest… I didn’t want to buckle any swashes. I wanted to go to bed because I’d had enough. If that was being a hero, then being a hero is too difficult. Why would anyone ever want to be a hero when they could have a nice peaceful life?”

“Harry, you just described every great hero from every great story, ever. Being a hero is never easy. It’s hard, difficult, bloody, and it hurts. After everything’s over, the hero in those stories is so beaten up that all he wants to do is lie down and rest.”

Harry snorted. That was, of course, exactly what happened. “Do heroes… real heroes, I mean… ever really get the girl? Do they ever ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after?”

Shacklebolt smiled. “I’ll tell you what, Harry… you come and tell me the answer ten or fifteen years from now when you’re settled down with a family of your own. I saw the magazine article…”

“Oh that thing… they got it wrong, by the way.” Harry rolled his eyes. “We were buying an engagement ring so Ron could ask Hermione.”

“Ah, excellent! I shall have to extend the congratulations of the Ministry to Mister Weasley and Miss Granger.”

Harry nodded. “I’m sure they’d appreciate it.” He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it all out at once. “I really hate fame. I just want to be a normal guy.”

“Yes, well, whether you want it or not, fame is upon you. You must keep in mind that fame can be both good and bad. You need to learn to tell the difference. Certainly, everyone out there who is not your friend will want a piece of the legendary Harry Potter.” Shacklebolt shifted in his seat, gesturing toward the window of his office. The view it afforded of London’s skyline was spectacular, especially given that as far as Harry knew, the office was located underground. “Ordinary people will walk up to you out of nowhere and start speaking to you as if you were fast friends. Politicians are going to duel each other over who gets to associate themselves with you first. Businesses will want your endorsement…” At Harry’s scowl, Kingsley Shacklebolt stopped talking. “Something the matter?”

“Well… probably nothing. I visited a grocer’s shop the other day and while there, I autographed a picture for the owner… it was nothing at the time, at least I thought it was nothing.” Harry rubbed his chin absently. “But now I’m wondering if he doesn’t have my signed picture framed and sitting behind his counter as some sort of statement that I’m endorsing his shop.”

“That’s only a problem if you dislike the man’s service, Harry,” Shacklebolt laughed. “But it is a good example of a lesson learned.” The Minister of Magic was thoughtfully silent for a moment. “Of course, it’s not all bad, you know. I’m sure a great many people will simply want to stop you and thank you. You know, show a little appreciation for what you’ve…”

“Yeah, people have been doing that to me since I was a baby,” Harry interrupted. “It’s never been something I’ve looked for.”

Shacklebolt sighed. “I understand. My advice is, when that happens, to just say thank you, politely, and let them have the thrill of brushing up against someone they hold in great regard.”

Harry thought of his encounter with the Stebbins family, and realized that was exactly how he handled it. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right… I’m the Minister of Magic!”

Harry rolled his eyes. “So… about this job offer…” he prompted.

“Ah, yes… well… here is my plan. I’d like you to be inducted into the Aurors as soon as possible.” Shacklebolt began searching his desk. It was covered in parchment, and finding what he wanted was proving troublesome. “There are some important tasks ahead before the Ministry could even be called ‘back on its feet’, and… ah, here we are.” He held a stack of three pages out to Harry.

It was a list of names. Harry scanned down the list; he’d heard of one or two of these people, but most of them were ciphers. When he reached the name ‘Umbridge, Dolores Jane', he brought his eyes back up to Kingsley’s. “Should I guess what these people have in common?”

“If you’d like, but I’m going to tell you anyway. They all supported, or at least appeared to support, Voldemort and his program of oppression against the Muggle-borns through their actions here at the Ministry. That we can tell, none of them bear the Dark Mark, but…” Shacklebolt spread his hands wide.

“You still want them gone.” Harry looked back down at the list. “Minister… Not that I’m turning down a chance to be an Auror, mind you, but what do you need me for? Have the Aurors round them up and arrest them.”

“Harry… not to put too fine a point on it, but therein lies the problem.” Shacklebolt sat back in his chair. “The Aurors are in a shambles. Many are just gone… I presume they were killed by Voldemort’s supporters, or else fled the country. Others are suffering permanent injury after being tortured for not being supportive enough of the Dark Lord’s regime. In addition… we can’t just arrest them all… we need to determine who on that list was an authentic supporter of Voldemort and who was simply keeping their head down and trying not to attract untoward attention, if you take my meaning. Unfortunately, whether or not they were active supporters, they appear tainted by association.”

Harry nodded. “So what do you want me to do?”

“Simple… head up the task force that’s going to clean up the Ministry. I intend to transform this place… make it more open to public scrutiny. It will be your job to separate the good from the bad. The malevolent from the merely apathetic, if you will. The Americans have a saying about holding government in the sunshine. Well… too many things have been done in the shadows for too long.” Shacklebolt was grim. “And given our conversation regarding the consequences of fame… I’m not ashamed to admit that part of the reason I want you in on this is that you’re a name people trust. If they trust you, and see you as part of the solution to our corrupt government, then they’ll trust that the government is actually being cleaned up.”

Harry stared at the man, incredulous. “You right bloody bastard! All this talk of watching out for people wanting to use me…” He shook his head. “Well… I suppose it’s for a good cause. Not to mention a good example of a lesson learned. All right, then… I’m in. When do you want me to start?”

“As soon as possible,” Kingsley Shacklebolt laughed. “As soon as possible.”

XxxxxxX

Earlier

Ginny took a quick tour of the house, making sure that there was a place for everything, and that everything was in that place, as the saying went. There were still some empty rooms, mostly up on the fourth floor, but all the important rooms… the dining room, the sitting room, a room that would one day be an office/library and their bedroom… were all furnished and decorated. This morning we just had a house. Now it feels like a home. Our home… mine and Harry’s, she thought to herself.

“This place is about as perfect as it could be,” Ginny said to herself.

Kreacher, who had followed her on the tour of the house, turned to her. “Mistress?”

“Nothing, Kreacher. Thank you for your help this morning.” The truth was that without the little elf’s help, the furniture would still be in the box, and she’d have been all day getting things arranged.

Kreacher bowed. “Kreacher lives to serve the Most Noble and Valiant House of Potter.”

That remark made Ginny laugh. “Well… it’s appreciated. Now, though… I think it’s time for that walk…”

She ran a hairbrush through her hair, tucked her wand into her pocket along with the white card Harry had pushed on her that morning. She wasn’t sure how it worked, but Harry assured her it was effectively Muggle money. He wanted her to have it ‘just in case’, whatever that meant, while she was wandering around Islington.

Islington itself was refreshing, though a bit surprising and in some ways scary. She’d grown up in Devon, after all, and in a rather rural part of an already rural county. No one could ever accuse Ottery-Saint-Catchpole of being metropolitan. As such, London… especially a busy area like Islington, came as a shock to the system. But while it was strange and a bit confusing, it was also wonderful. It took Ginny no more than twenty minutes to find any number of shops and note them for a return visit, this time with Harry.

It also took her no more than twenty minutes to realize she was hopelessly lost. But Harry had given her instructions just in case that had happened. It took only mere minutes to find one of those ‘please-men’ Harry had mentioned, standing under an awning to what looked to be a used book shop, on the other side of the street.

With a smile, Ginny stepped between two of the parked cars. She already knew what to ask the please-man… she was confident that she’d be able to fit in with the Muggles, just like Harry wanted…

XxxxxxX

Now

As she had for a while, she came awake slowly. The lights had been dimmed and she got the impression that it was the middle of the night. She could hear someone shuffling around, out of sight. If it hadn’t been for the pain-killers sizzling through her blood, she would have been terrified, she knew. Her entire body felt… distant… for some reason, and it was all bearable.

It occurred to her that she had something to say to people, but she had forgotten the message already. And she remembered talking to someone, but who exactly… she couldn’t remember that either. Fred maybe… it was a dream after all.

Her eyes went wide as a dark form loomed over her. It had messy hair, and glasses.

“Ginny…? Ginny! I don’t know if you can… can hear me… I don’t know if you’re even still in there… its Harry… I’ve been looking for you all day, and… I’m sorry it took me so long to find you… It didn’t occur to me to contact the Muggle police… I am so sorry… oh, Ginny, look what’s been done to you… oh, baby… I love you, Ginny… please… I’m here… I’m here for you, baby…”

He took her hand, and she immediately gave it a squeeze. She knew, almost instinctively, that he needed the reassurance.

“Ginny? Did you just… Ginny?” She gave his hand another squeeze. “Oh, Thank God! Ginny… I love you… I’m going to get you out of here and to some real Healers, Ginny… You’re going to be… You’re doing just…” He kept interrupting himself. She hated when he did that.

She gave his hand one more squeeze and drifted back to sleep.

Chapter 29: Life Carries On And On And On

The next day…

Harry stared in horror at the jumbled mass of wires and tubes and machines that surrounded Ginny. She lay motionless on the bed, and it was all he could do not to rush in and hold her. Healer Allen had assured him that this was the last thing he actually should do, however. At least right now. Harry could see why. The entire left side of her body seemed to be encased in plaster and inflatable rubber. Ginny’s head was in some sort of ring-like metal cage. There were plastic tubes taped to her face, and wires stuck to her chest, and bags of liquid slowly seeping things into her arms.

The Healer was carefully and slowly running his wand over Ginny’s body, occasionally making comments over his shoulder to a quill automatically recording everything on a floating piece of parchment. Every once in a while the Healer made a comment that was loud enough for Harry to hear. Most were along the lines of Oh, very clever, or Huh… now why did they do that? It was beginning to drive the boy spare. He glanced around the ward… Percy and Arthur Weasley were making sure none of the Muggle doctors and nurses noticed what was going on right under their noses, but it still made Harry nervous.

Eventually, the Healer turned back to Harry. Allen waved the parchment over and he re-read his own notes, nodding occasionally. “All right, Mister Potter… let me tell you first that it should be no problem at all to move Miss Weasley to St. Mungo’s, and once there most of her injuries can be corrected instantly. Others… others will take longer; some of them will take much longer. She’s going to be in that bed for at least a month, I’ll tell you that right now.”

Harry looked grim. “What happened to her?” He’d been told by the Muggle police-man that Ginny had been hit by a lorry while crossing the street, but he hadn’t actually spoken to any of the doctors about her condition. “I mean… what’s wrong?”

“Well, to begin with, her left leg and arm are broken in several places apiece. In fact, her femur was broken so many times in such a small space I’m surprised the Muggles didn’t just amputate.” At Harry’s shocked expression, he added, “But she’ll regain use of the leg, don’t you worry.”

“She suffered three broken ribs… these have been reset with little metal pins, which I think is incredibly clever. The Muggles have thought of so many new things since I last had a chance to study their medicine. Anyway, where was I…? Oh yes! She suffered a punctured lung, which the Muggles apparently sewed closed like you or I would sew up a rip in a shirt. If I’m reading the doctor’s notes correctly…” Healer Allen gestured toward the clip-board he’d set aside on a table before going to examine Ginny “… they had a machine breathing for her until the lung re-expanded and she started breathing for herself.”

“Her skull was fractured in two places, and there’s a hairline fracture in one of the vertebrae in her neck. That’s why they have that… thing… around her head. It is there to keep Miss Potter from injuring herself further by moving her neck. They actually screwed it into her skull… very clever, I must say…” Harry was beginning to turn green. “Luckily, she didn’t seem to suffer brain damage beyond that of a simple concussion, and the Muggles have already treated her for that.”

The Healer took a deep breath and continued. “Here’s where we get to the problem injuries… the Muggles apparently were forced to remove a small part of her liver, her entire gall bladder, and a short length of small intestine.” The Healer noted Harry’s face and stopped. “Young man? Are you going to be all right?” Harry was breathing in gulps. He nodded to the Healer, not trusting himself to speak.

Healer Allen had his wand out again, this time waving it over Harry. “Mister Potter, you should sit down… I’ll get you some water. You’re hyperventilating, and your blood pressure’s dropping… Help! Mister Weasley!” The Healer caught Harry as the younger man’s eyes rolled up and his knees buckled. Healer Allen wasn’t as young as he once was, unfortunately, and while he could keep Harry from simply dropping to the floor, all he was really doing was slowing the fall.

Arthur was there instantly. “If you could assist me, sir… Mister Potter has fainted. He’ll be okay in a moment… let’s get him to the chair,” the Healer said. They maneuvered Harry into the chair, and Healer Allen used his wand to revive Harry. “Should I go on, Mister Potter?” He conjured a small cup of cold water and handed it over to his newest patient.

Harry looked confused for a moment, but sipped at the water. “Hold on… just a second… I need to catch my breath…”

“Perfectly understandable reaction, Mister Potter. Perfectly understandable... just let me know when you’re ready…”

Harry nodded, not saying anything. Arthur looked at him warily. “Harry… are things… is she…” Arthur swallowed visibly, obviously not wanting to ask the question. “Is it that bad? Is she going to…?”

Before Harry could speak, the Healer had jumped in. “Oh, not at all… she’s going to be just fine. It sounds much worse than it is, really… it might take a month, but eventually she’ll be right as rain. None of her injuries are life-threatening, at least not for magical healing. I think Mister Potter was overwhelmed by the fact that she’s suffered so many injuries at once.”

At this comment, Harry nodded. “Yeah, it sort of… hit me all at once. Now, you were saying, Healer? Please… continue…”

The Healer appraised Harry’s condition with an experienced eye before speaking. “All right… as I was saying, the Muggles had to remove one of her minor organs, and part of two others. I presume it was because they were too injured for them to repair. As no magic was involved, we should be able to coax her body into re-growing the missing organs, making her right as rain.” Allen consulted his notes one more time. “The tube they’ve got down her throat right now is a feeding tube… they’ve been feeding her a liquid remarkably similar in content to a Nutrition Potion… so similar, in fact, that I wonder where they got the formula… I must admit though that putting the potion into a bag and having it drip slowly into the patient’s stomach is an absolutely brilliant idea! I might have to talk to my superiors at Saint Mungo’s to see if we couldn’t… adapt…” he trailed off, seeing their faces.

Arthur and Harry were both scowling. “Healer…” Arthur began. “I’m as fascinated at Muggle technolalogogy as you are, but…”

"Right, right… now is hardly the time… as I said, getting her to Saint Mungo’s will be easy, and getting her up and about again is just a matter of time. There will be some rough spots, but from what you tell me, she’s a strong young woman and will come out of it just fine in the end…”

"Rough spots? What do you mean?” Harry couldn’t keep the worry out of his voice.

“Well… I’ll give you an example. Right now, the Muggles are pumping Miss Weasley full of a rather powerful pain-killer. Otherwise… well, I won’t lie to you, she wouldn’t be asleep right now; she’d be fully awake and screaming.” Both Harry and Arthur nodded. It made sense, seeing as Ginny had barely woken up since the night before, and then only for a few minutes at a time. “Unfortunately… and Mister Potter, Mister Weasley, this is going to be hard for you, I warn you right now… when we get her to Saint Mungo’s we’re going to have to wait until that painkiller has worked its way completely out of her system.”

Harry gasped, but Arthur just scowled. “I’m not sure I understand what you are saying,” the older man said.

“Let me put it this way, Mister Weasley… before we can begin treating your daughter with Healing magic and with potions, we’re going to have to basically remove the Muggle treatments. Now…” he held up a hand “… that doesn’t mean we’re going to reinjure her or anything… we won’t be removing the pins in her ribs, for example… but we’re going to have to take out the screws in her skull, and we’re going to have to wait until the Muggle drugs wear off.”

“You’re telling us that to heal her, you’re going to have to let her hurt first.” Harry was angry, visibly angry.

Healer Allen looked nervous; whether or not it was the truth, the fact that Harry had defeated Voldemort caused the Wizarding public to perceive him as extremely powerful… on the same scale as Voldemort or Dumbledore themselves… and angry and powerful was a combination that wracked the nerves of anyone.

Still, the Healer had a duty to tell this angry and powerful young man the truth. “Yes, Mister Potter… that is exactly what I am saying. I wish there was another way, but there simply isn’t. You see… many of the ingredients found in Muggle medicines come from the same sort of substances we use in Healing potions. Arrowfrog venom, for example, is an anesthetic to both us and the Muggles, as is an alkaline produced by the leaves of the coca plant, or an acid extracted from willow bark… and because of this, if we mix Muggle medicines with potions, there’s a risk of poisoning the patient. She can survive being in pain… she couldn’t survive being poisoned.”

Percy walked over from where he had been watching the Muggle doctors. “Whatever is going to be done should be done quickly… Notice-Me-Not Charms lose effectiveness over time, not to mention the more often they’re cast on the same area… we could start being noticed any time now…”

Harry nodded. “Thanks, Perce…” He turned to the Healer. “You said that it would be easy to transport Ginny to Saint Mungo’s. How are we going to get her out of here without the Muggles knowing?”

“Oh, very easily… we’ll turn her entire bed into a Portkey. After that… I assume Director Weasley will call in the Obliviators to make sure the Muggle hospital has no record of her ever being here. Simple and easy.”

At this, Arthur nodded. “That certainly won’t be a problem. The benefits of being the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, you know. I can also authorize the creation of the Portkey, if that’s needed.”

“Yes, thank you, Director. Well… let me Apparate ahead to get things ready. I’ll be back presently and we can begin moving her.” With that, Healer Allen disappeared. Some of the Muggles jumped at the sound of his disappearance, but none looked their way… the Notice-Me-Not Charms were still working, for now at least.

Harry stepped to Ginny’s bedside and took her hand in his. His eyes never left her face. She was heavily bruised, and the left side of her face was scraped badly, but to Harry the discoloration and the injury did nothing to diminish her beauty. He gently brushed a lock of hair away from her eyes, and in response she seemed to smile. Lazily, first one and then the other of her eyes opened. They seemed unfocused at first, but slowly rested on his face.

“Hey, love,” he said to her, quietly. “We’re going to get you out of here soon. The Healer said you’ll be fine. Just fine.”

When she gave his hand a light squeeze, he smiled. “I know, I love you too,” he whispered, and was immediately rewarded with another squeeze, this one longer and likely as hard as she could manage. Harry looked up as Arthur approached. “Love, your dad’s here… I’m going to let him talk to you, okay?”

Squeeze…

Harry stepped back, motioning Arthur forward. “She likes it if you hold her hand,” he said.

Arthur took his daughter’s hand in his own. His eyes traveled over his little girl’s face, taking in the bruises and the scrapes and the tubes and the metal cage… he immediately burst into tears at the sight of his little angel and how badly she was hurt.

“Oh, angel…” Arthur wiped at his eyes. “We’re all going to take care of you… I promise. You’re going to be just fine. The Healer says…” Arthur swallowed again “… he says you’re going to be fine. It’ll be hard, but you’ve always been strong. I am so proud of that… the fact that you’re so strong.”

Arthur almost jumped when Ginny squeezed his hand. Her eyes were only vaguely focused on him, but for a few short seconds seemed to hold a longing. “I love you, too, Ginny.”

The Healer appeared suddenly, causing everyone to jump. “Oh, sorry… sorry about that…” Healer Allen said, embarrassed. “Her room is ready. Mister Potter, if you could unhook that bag there from the pole and hand it to me? Yes, thank you… and Mister Weasley, if you could… yes, that… thank you.”

Percy stepped forward. “Are we ready to go?”

“I believe so, yes.” The healer pointed his wand at the bed. “Portus! All right everyone, touch the bed… we have ten seconds. Five… and… now!”

The duty nurse in the critical care ward jumped at the explosion of sound coming from one of the treatment areas. She pushed back the curtain, only to find an empty space. If there had been a bed there, there was no sign.

Chapter 30: It's Just The Car That We Ride In

Healer Allen checked an item from the list he was perusing. He reread his notes and nodded to himself. Then with a sigh he turned his eyes to the small crowd that had gathered in the waiting area. Ginevra Weasley's friends and family had flocked in shifts to the hospital almost as quickly as she had arrived the night before. Only Mister Potter and Miss Weasley's mother seemed to have stayed the entire night... the rest came and went in shifts, it seemed.

The Healer eyed the door to Miss Weasley's room with some trepidation. If he'd got the timing right, the girl would be coming out from under whatever the chemical anesthetic the Muggles gave her at any moment. They'd have to rush to stop her from thrashing around in pain so they could heal the various breaks, not to mention getting her under the effects of a proper Pain Relieving potion. The first few minutes would be highly traumatic to the girl, not to mention the man who'd not left her side since they arrived.

How Harry Potter was going to react to what happened worried the Healer more than he admitted. The boy seemed to have a solid head on his shoulders, but he obviously wore his emotions on his sleeve. The made him potentially volatile, and the last thing they needed in a hospital was a volatile, angry man worried about the love of his life who also just happened to possibly be the most powerful wizard on the planet... if things went very wrong, some of his Healers might not make it through the morning un-cursed...

As if on-cue, Harry Potter ran out of Ginny's room, looking like he'd been attacked. He moved quickly to the counter surrounding the Healer's work-area. "She's awake and she's hurting! You've got to come do something!"

"We're on our way, Mister Potter." Healer Allen turned to his assistance. "Damon, get the tray I laid out last night... you know which one. Marples, grab that..." The Healer was suddenly whirled around to face Harry.

"YOU'RE NOT HELPING HER! GO HELP HER!" Potter screamed into the Healer's face. "She's... she's crying... you've got to..." Allen could see several of Miss Weasley's relatives coming, obviously worried about what was going on. "MOVE FASTER!" It was obvious to the Healer that Potter was on the edge of his self-control.

"I heard you the first time, Mister Potter." Without any warning at all, a red light flared between the two men, and Harry Potter dropped to the floor like a marionette with its strings cut. Healer Allen tucked his wand back in a pocket and shook his head. "I really hate that I have to keep doing that to family members. I do hope he's not too harked off when he wakes up. Marples, grab that tray right there and follow me."

The Healer stepped over Harry's unconscious form and entered the girl's room. She was moving as well as the casts and bindings the Muggles trapped her in allowed her to move. The poor girl's face was a rictus of fear and agony, and it broke Allen's heart that she was going to have to endure for a bit. Standing next to the bed was a middle-aged woman who was obviously the poor girl's mother. "Mrs. Weasley? I'm Healer Allen. We're going to take care of your little girl, but right now I need you to leave. None of you want to see her like this, and she doesn't want you to see her like this either. Besides, you might want to attend to Mister Potter..."

"Harry?" With a look of utter confusion on her face, Mrs. Weasley rushed out of the room.

Allen took a deep breath. He removed his wand from his pocket and spoke directly to Ginny. "Miss Weasley! Miss Weasley, look at me... concentrate on me, all right?" The girl's eyes were almost bulging out of her head. Her teeth were clenched shut, and she was making a high-pitched whine that was louder than one would expect. If she wasn't still contained in the head-cage and plaster body-wrap, the doctor would expect her to be spasming out of the bed.

"It hurts.... It hurts... make it stop..." Ginny sobbed. "Please make it stop..."

Healer Allen nodded. "We will, I promise. Just hold on. I need to immobilize you for a moment so we can fix your bones. Anne, if you'd do the honors." Healer Marples nodded and put Ginny into a Full Body Bind. Allen looked over his shoulder as Healer Damon came in with the tray of potions. "Good... keep those close. As soon as we let her go, we need to get them into her."

He met Ginny's eyes again. "Now, Miss Weasley... I know this is scary, not being able to move and being in so much pain, but try to calm down. This will be over shortly, I promise."
The cast on her arm was an inflatable, made of rubber and metal with space enough for him to get his wand in. He cast the first of the Episkey spells on the break in her arm, and then carefully removed the contraption. He put it aside for study... he did have a fascination for Muggle medical technology. While he was doing that, Healer Marples was carefully removing the screws that held the halo frame from Ginny's head.

"Anne, tell me you Episkey'd the breaks in her skull before starting that..." Allen whispered.
Marples didn't even look away from what he was doing. "Don't teach your grand-mother to suck Sugar Quills, Quincy... of course I did." The female healer carefully pulled the halo from around Ginny's head and with a damp cloth mopped small drops of blood from her patent's scalp. "What kind of people would even think of this torture device?" She dropped it on the table next to the temporary cast."

"People who don't have magic to fall back on." Healer Allen nodded toward Healer Damon. He leaned over to look Ginny in the eyes. "Miss Weasley, we're about to let you out of the bind. I'm so very sorry that it took so long... we have some potions for you that you need to drink immediately, and then we can continue... and don't worry; one will take care of the pain."

Marples canceled her spell and Ginny immediately sagged into herself. Tears poured from her eyes and she began to cry in long, painful heaves. Immediately, Healer Damon handed a bottle to Allen. "Ginny, drink this quickly... it'll stop the pain, I promise." He watched as Ginny leaned her head back and downed the potion. Almost instantly, the girl stopped crying and began to relax.

"Now this one, Ginny... this one is to help your bones heal the rest of the way."

Ginny swallowed the potion, but gagged. "Oh... that was bloody awful... what was that?" She whispered.

"Skele-Grow... and yes, it's bloody awful. One more, dear... and this one's going to be just as bad, I'm sorry..." Allen handed over the last of the potions. "This one will help repair your internal injuries."

He handed the last of the potions to Ginny. She had the beginnings of a dreamy smile on her face; it was obvious the Pain Potion was doing its job and doing it well.

Ginny drank the last of the potions, barely able to swallow it. "Ghastly... oh, I think I'm going to throw up..."

"Common side effect, I'm afraid. Now just close your eyes, why don't you, while we work on you a while. You're likely to get drowsy, and my advice is not to fight it." As Ginny's eyes began to close, Allen turned to his fellow healers. "Anne, if you would cut the cast off of her leg and get to work on the mess the Muggles made there, Roland and I will work on the ribs..."

XxxxxxX

Harry slowly became aware that he was lying on the floor. His head was propped up in someone's lap, and someone, presumably the same person whose lap his head inhabited, was gently running their fingers through his hair.

"Ginny?" He asked. His voice was shaky, like he'd just been woken up, which of course he had.

"I'm sorry, Harry, but Ginny's still being treated by the Healers. But if there's anything I can do for you while Ginny's incapacitated, I will. Within reason of course... I'm sure Ginny wouldn't appreciate my doing certain things with you... and she is after all still my friend..." Harry opened his eyes, only to discover that he wasn't wearing his glasses any longer. A blurry face was leaning over him; he couldn't make out the person's features clearly, but even if he didn't recognize the voice, the long, stringy blonde hair was a dead giveaway.

"Luna?" Harry was puzzled. "What are you doing here?"

"I was owled that Ginny was in hospital, so I came. It's what friends do," she said, as if he was being silly for even asking the question.

His brown knitted for a moment. "Luna...?"

"Yes, Harry?" She reached to her left, out of Harry's line of sight, and brought his glasses to one of his hands.

"What am I doing on the floor?" Harry asked.

"The Healer Stupefied you. You were getting a bit hysterical, really, so you shouldn't blame him for stunning you." Luna's smile was upside-down to him. "Do you want to get up now? We all decided that you could use the rest, but if you're ready to get up, no one will mind."

Surprising himself, Harry shook his head. "Not quite yet. The headache hasn't quite gone away."

"That's fine. I find you comfortable. Not as comfortable as Neville, but comfortable." Her ever-present smile grew wider. "But then, few things are comfortable as Neville."

He thought about that for a moment. "I think I'm ready to get up now."

"All right, Harry." In a surprising show of flexibility, she leaned down and kissed him. It was a chaste kiss, a kiss between friends, but the act itself shocked him. He'd been friendly with Luna for years, but they'd never so much as hugged before.

"Why did you just kiss me?" He asked.

"Because... I knew you'd never let me after you stood up, ever, and I've been wondering what kissing you would be like since my fourth year." Luna's smile never changed. She leaned back and let Harry climb to his feet, then held her hand out.

Harry helped Luna stand, all the while looking around nervously. No one seemed to have noticed... "Um... thanks, I think...

"Harry, don't worry... I am not trying to seduce you or anything. Your relationship with Ginny is quite safe. Now that I've kissed you once, I'm satisfied. Because now I know. You have very beautiful eyes, Harry, but it would never work between us. You're just too..." Since first he'd known her, Luna was at a loss for a word.

"I'm too what?" Harry asked.

"Emotionally constipated," Luna said at last. "You bottle everything up. And I don't think I could have a relationship with someone like that. I'm no good at drawing out people's feelings. Ginny, on the other hand, is an expert at it. She's suited to you," Luna said, still smiling. "You and she are going to last together for a long, long time."

"Well... thanks, I guess." Harry frowned at the conversation, not sure why it was occurring at all.
While he was thinking, Ron and Hermione approached. "Good to see you back on your feet, mate... I almost fell over when the Healer dropped you like that. You okay now?" Ron asked as Hermione pulled Harry into a quick hug.

"Fine, yeah. Luna was... um... watching out for me," Harry smiled sheepishly.

"Good for her! Look... um... the Healers finished with Ginny while you were out. They're only letting two people in at a time. You and Luna... do you want to go look in on her?" Ron asked. Harry looked at Ron with the same expression he would give someone who had asked about whether Harry wanted to continue breathing.

"Harry should go. I'll wait. He needs some time with Ginny by himself." Luna gave Harry a gentle push. "Go tell her you love her, Harry. It's what you're thinking." Harry just nodded.
As he entered the room , he smiled at Ginny. She was sleeping, and once again looked angelic. The casts were gone, as was the cage around her head; she was no longer a broken doll. Ginny looked tired, but no longer looked to Harry like she could die at any moment. He pulled the lone chair up to her bedside and simply stared at her.

Even without makeup, and her hair a mess, and the circles under her eyes, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. He sniffed a couple of times, slowly coming to the realization that he was crying. He'd never cried because he was happy before. He leaned over and gently placed his head in her lap. It was, in his opinion, much more comfortable than Luna's.

Chapter 31: Did I Dream This Belief? Or Did I Believe This Dream?

Ginny heard her door open. She looked up from her reading and smiled at her older brother. "Ron! Is Harry with you?"

"Of course... He's talking to the Healers about your release. Today's the day! You're going home!" He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. "I've got some clothes for you. I'm sure you're ready to get out of these dreadful hospital gowns." He held up a bundle of cloth: jeans, a t-shirt, her trainers, and a roll of socks.

"Thanks, Ron. I really want to get out of here," Ginny smiled at him. After three weeks the Healers had finally declared her completely healthy. After regrowing shattered bones and enduring the slow growth of missing or partially missing internal organs, she was more than ready to go home.

Ron just nodded.

"How's Hermione doing?" Ginny asked, hesitantly. Ron and Hermione had returned to England from Australia early in her stay at Saint Mungo's, with Hermione's parents in tow. The next day, Ron... and suspiciously not Hermione... had arrived at the Wizarding hospital to regale her with tales of their Australian adventure. He told her about the beaches, and about the animals, and about riding in a Muggle "aeropane". And then he told her about the fight between Hermione and her parents over what Hermione had done to them. It was Ron's opinion that Hermione might not ever be able to fix things...

"Well... you know... she's down about it all. It's understandable. I think she knew going in that this might happen." Ron shook his head, sadly. "I don't know what to do for her. And now, of course, she's back at school, so I can't talk to her when I want."

"There's still letters," Ginny prompted.

"I know... I got one the other day. But it's not the same," Ron sighed. He muttered, "Can't kiss a letter..." and Ginny grinned.

"Don't be so down about yourself. At least you haven't been cooped up in a hospital. I can't wait to get out of here and do something... walk around... play Quidditch... whatever, as long as it's not lying in a bed."

"Mum wanted to throw you a big welcome back dinner, but Harry's not letting Mum do it. Or rather, he told her that for tonight, he's going to take you home and have a quiet evening. She and Harry got into an argument over it, really." Ron looked a bit sheepish. "The definition of 'home' I mean... Mum thought you might be coming back to the Burrow, but Harry put a bosh on that."

Ginny just nodded. "Yes, well... she needs to learn I don't live at the Burrow anymore."

"She does, yes." Ron turned a bit pink. "That's why we didn't tell them you were being released today."

"Oh, very clever..." Ginny climbed down from the hospital bed. "Could you give me a minute, Ron? I'd like to get dressed."

"Oh, yeah... sorry." Ron's eyes grew wide. "I'll... er... just step out then." 

"Thanks. I'll meet you out there," Ginny said as she started dressing.

Minutes later, she joined her brother in the hallway. She was delighted to see Harry chatting with Ron. "Hey there, you!" She lit up in response to his smile. "So... can we get out of this place now?"

XxxxxxX

"So... You said you've heard from Hermione?" Ginny sat on the couch with Harry. The first thing she'd done when she arrived at Grimmauld Place was toured the house, as if to make sure it was as she left it. This was, to Harry's mind at least, understandable. It had been a month since she was last there, after all, so re-familiarizing herself with the place made sense.

Ron nodded. "She sent me an owl the other day. She says that the classes are interesting, and that there's a flock of new teachers. Apparently they're all saying the same things the teachers said back in our fifth year for the O.W.L.s. She says it's really strange, looking up at the Head Table and seeing McGonagall sitting in the big gold chair. Oh! And the sorting was twice as big this year as it was last year..."

Next to Ginny, Harry nodded. He pulled Ginny toward him until she was leaning against him. "That makes a lot of sense if you think about it... you've not only got this year's crop of Firsties, you've got last year's as well... all those Muggleborns who stayed away from Hogwarts in droves."

Ron stared into space for a moment. "I almost wish I'd gone back with her, now. Almost... I miss her. But you know... there are Hogsmeade weekends coming." He looked up at his sister. "Did he tell you about my big project?" Ron nodded toward Harry.

Ginny shook her head. "What big project is he talking about, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "He's fixing up the Shrieking Shack for me, and in return he and Hermione get to live there rent free."

"You're going to live in Hogsmeade?"

"Sure... at least for a little while. It'll be convenient... George wants us to open up a second shop in Hogsmeade. He and Fred were planning it... you know... before..." Ron looked embarrassed for a moment. "Not only does it let me help George out, it'll be a chance for me to have a bigger stake in the business. Plus, I get to give Hermione a place to call home. I get the feeling she needs that, now that her folks..." He let the statement trail off unfinished.

"Yeah, that makes sense." Ginny let her brother off the hook. "So... how far have you got? What's left to do out there?"

Ron tapped off items on his fingers. "The roof doesn't have holes in it anymore, and there's glass in all the windows. Also, all the plumbing's been updated, though I need to get the heating charms restored on the hot taps. I pulled the old, mold-eaten carpet off the staircase and straightened it. Oh, and the entire master suite is complete. I did that first, so I'd have some place to stay. The rest of the house is a wreck, but my... well... our, I suppose, once Hermione and I are both living there... our bedroom is perfect from one side to the other."

"Well, at least you have your priorities thought out," Ginny laughed. Ron blushed to his toes.

"It's not like we have a lot of room to talk, Ginny... first thing I did when I came here was to make sure Kreacher rounded up a mattress for me to sleep on... and when you left your parents, the first thing you did was talk about redecorating the bedroom." Harry was laughing the entire time he talked. She made to punch him on the arm, but he caught her fist and kissed the knuckles.

"So... Ron..." Harry began, changing the subject, "are you staying for dinner?"

"Can't, mate... I'm going over to George's tonight. He wants me to help get his place straightened out. Apparently, he has a date." Ron grinned.

"A date with whom?" Ginny asked. "He hasn't been out with anyone since Katie, and that was... what... two years ago?"

Ron raised an eyebrow. "With... er... Angelina Johnson, apparently."

"Wait... Fred's Angelina Johnson?" Ginny was vaguely shocked, but didn't know why. "He's taking out Fred's girlfriend?"

"Apparently." Ron looked at his hands.

"Does anyone else think that's a phenomenally bad idea?" Ginny frowned. "I mean... what's in her head, anyway? She and Fred were really close... he told me once he planned on marrying her, eventually. So what... she's going out with her dead boyfriend's twin now? Can we all say 'necrophilia', maybe?"

Ron and Harry just looked thoughtful. "On the one-hand," Harry said, "it's good that he's not moping around his apartment getting drunk. On the other hand, he's going out with someone who might not be the most stable right now... It's like they'll be helping each other to continue their own problems."

"Yeah."

Ron nodded again. "Yeah, well... what can we do? He's twenty-two years old. We're not his parents, we're his siblings. We can't just tell him who he can and can't see when it comes to his girlfriends."

"Oh, you're just now deciding that siblings don't have a say in each other's personal lives?" Ginny's voice was cutting. "What changed between now and back when you were telling me how to live my life, Ronald Weasley?"

"Everything. The war changed everything." With that, Ron stood. He stepped to the fireplace. "I'll see you guys later. On the next Hogsmeade weekend, how about the four of us getting together for lunch, yeah? It will be my treat!" And with that, he Floo'd away.

XxxxxxX

Ginny stood in front of the mirror and stared at her torso. The scar stared back at her. It ran from just under her right breast and ended just above and just to the left of her belly button. When she first arrived at Saint Mungo's, the long scar was a dark port-wine color, almost garishly so... an ugly, angry purple. Now it was merely an ugly, angry pink.

The Healers had done their best at removing most of the scars her accident had caused her. The ones on her face were almost invisible, as were the ones on her arms. She had resigned herself to the splatter-gash scar on the back of her leg. But this one was different. This one was hideous. She was hideous. The disgusting thing... this hideous reminder of almost dying... was awful to look at. She felt spoiled somehow, and knew, deep in her heart, that Harry wasn't going to want to touch her once he saw it.

At the thought of Harry, Ginny let her nightgown drop, hiding the disfiguring mark. She then picked up her dressing gown and put it on. Ginny thought for a moment about climbing under the blankets in the bed, but couldn't figure out how to justify keeping her dressing gown under the covers. She sat down on the right side of the bed; the side that had, quite arbitrarily, become 'her' side of the bed, and watched the shadows move over the carpeting. Without even noticing, she started biting at her thumbnail.

Harry came into the bedroom mere minutes later. "Well, I put out the cat, turned off the lights, and locked all the doors." He stretched expressively. "Been a long day, but worth it. I am so glad you're home, baby."

She winced slightly at the endearment. 'Baby' wasn't one of her favorites, but she wasn't going to correct him. Besides, she had bigger things on her mind. Ginny watched as Harry stripped down to his yellow boxer shorts. "Harry... I..."

He hadn't heard her. "Decided to go with the nightgown, then? I'd kind of grown used to you wearing nothing but your knickers and a smile." Harry waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned at her with an exaggerated leer. Normally, it would have caused her to giggle, but tonight...

"Harry..." she began again, "... I... um... I understand if you want to... you know... sleep somewhere else. Or something."

"What? What are you talking about, dear?" Harry said, sounding concerned. "Are you not feeling well? If you're in pain or something I can go kip on the couch tonight..."

"No, honey... I... well... I haven't shown you yet. And I don't know how you'll feel about me afterward."

"Shown me what?" She watched as Harry's forehead scrunched up. Ginny recognized the expression as being "puzzled yet concerned."

Ginny sighed. "I'm not sure I want to show you... that's the thing. You're not going to want to touch me afterward."

"Oh come now..." Harry laughed. "I doubt it could be that bad. I mean, unless some new Dark Lord's shown up and you've taken his version of the Dark Mark..." He sobered for a moment. "You haven't taken some berk's Dark Mark, have you?" His face was utterly straight, but it was his voice that gave him away. He couldn't stop himself from laughing at himself for saying that.

She took a deep breath and stood. The dressing gown dropped to the floor. Slowly, she pulled her nightgown up over her head, and it joined the dressing gown. Ginny slowly turned toward Harry, holding her arms protectively over her chest. Even though she was still wearing panties, she felt utterly naked and exposed.

It was obvious that Harry was worried about what was going on. After the initial surprise... her joining him in the shower, them sleeping half-naked together, dressing in front of each other... being naked in front of each other had become easy. But Ginny knew she was acting shy now, something she had never done since moving in with Harry.

"What?" Harry asked, and Ginny sighed.

"It's... it's the... this," she said with tears in her eyes. One hand waved in front of the scar. "It's hideous and ugly and makes me look awful."

Harry's eyes went wide. He reached out and held her... just held her. "Ginny... you're not awful and the scar isn't that bad." He laughed gently. "At least it's not on your forehead where everyone can see it"

"Harry, that's not funny."

"Sure it is."

"No, it's not." Ginny leaned into him. "It's not funny at all. It's like I'm not as pretty to look at anymore." Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that this wasn't about the scar at all. It was about the shock of almost dying. It was about weeks of pain. It was about fear. But she kept obsessing about the scar.

"You're beautiful and I love you." Harry picked her up, holding her even more tightly to his chest as he moved toward the bed. "And I always will."

XxxxxxX

Ginny carefully moved Harry's arms into a more comfortable position. He responded, in typical Harry fashion, by pulling her into a slightly closer embrace. She had listened to his breathing grow more and more regular until she was convinced he was asleep.

The tears had started again, but this time they weren't brought about by sadness or fear. She felt a pleasant burning sensation deep within her body that spoke of secret, forbidden feelings. She was happy. Harry made her happy. He had been kind, and gentle, if clumsy, and while their lovemaking hadn’t been perfect at least it had been heartfelt, and spoke of things to come.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "So this is what it feels like to no longer be qualified to capture unicorns..." Ginny tried not to laugh at her own joke, but the feeling of contentment and love was too much to contain. Ginny pulled the pillow over her mouth and laughed into it. She was desperate to not wake Harry, and concentrated to keep from shaking in his arms. But it didn't work.

Harry shifted, and Ginny felt rather than really saw his shadowy presence lean over her. "Ginny? Are you... are you crying? Is everything okay?" He pulled her into a deep hug.

"Everything's fine, Harry... it’s okay. I love you."

"I love you too," she heard him say. She smiled, and cried in his arms for the joy of it.

Chapter 32: Now I Can Find Relief! I Grieve!

Harry didn't react at all.

As Healer Branchwater finished her report, telling him exactly what he didn't want to hear, the man once known as the Savior Of The Wizarding World simply nodded.

"Thank you." His face never changed expression. "You can go." It was only after the young Healer left his field of vision that he even so much as moved other than to speak.

Harry Potter looked into the face of his life-long love and smiled. Even now, so long after she had joined him in marriage, after the children and their lives together, he thought she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Gently, he brushed aside a lock of hair, which once had been a fiery red and now was a light silvery gray, and tucked it behind her ear. His own hair, what little there was of it left, had gone steel gray decades back. Ginny always used to say it made him look distinguished.

He sat back in his chair, as much as he could, anyway, and sighed deeply. To him, Ginny looked like an angel. She always had. She always would. Even now when she...

He couldn't make himself complete the thought. He just couldn't. It hurt too much. Harry Potter, who had faced down the most infamous and most evil wizard in history, who had performed heroics that were still taught about in schools some sixty years after they occurred, lost his nerve when it came to his wife, and how soon he would be losing her.

Harry held his head in his hands and wept.

Behind him, Healer Branchwater sighed. "Mister Potter, I want you to know... everyone here at Mungo's... we're all truly sorry for your loss." She wasn't even sure Harry heard her, but it had to be said. This was, after all, Harry Potter. "I'll leave you alone now, sir."

XxxxxxX

James Potter fidgeted. He couldn't help it. He knew that it was undignified for a person of his age, but he just couldn't help it. Like his father before him, James had always been a man who acted. It was in his nature to do something about the situation. But right now, there was nothing to do. So he paced.

"James, you'll wear out the tile." Percy Weasley, James' uncle, was rocking gently back and forth. An infant, Percy's first great-grandson Fabian, was sleeping on the older man's shoulder.

Next to Percy on the same couch, the two dowagers of the Weasley family, Fleur and Angelina, nodded at him. "Please, James. Do sit." Fleur smiled up at him. James remembered a time when she had a thick French accent, but a lifetime lived in England had worn it away.

"Come on, James." Lily Potter threw an arm around her older brother's waist. She guided him to an empty spot on one of the couches, next to where their brother Albus had fallen asleep. "Let's just..."

All conversation stopped as the Healer stepped out of the room. Almost simultaneously, all the adults in the room stood and approached her. Someone had even nudged Albus awake. When everyone started asking questions at once, the Healer held up a hand. "If you'll all please give me a moment, I'll tell you all at once."

The small crowd fell silent. The Healer took a deep breath. "I'm very sorry, but at this point it's just a matter of time... there's nothing more we can do for Mrs. Potter except make her comfortable and wait. She's unconscious now, and will not be waking up again. This will be the best time to say goodbye to her. Again, I am very, very sorry to have to break this terrible news to you."

It was Percy who spoke first. "Thank you, Healer. Thank you for telling us."

Healer Branchwater nodded. "If you need anything..." When no one responded, the Healer made her exit from the ward.

No one said anything for a long time.

Finally, James spoke. "I'm going to go in and check on Dad... and say goodbye to Mum. I'm pretty sure he can't handle all of us coming in at once, so let me talk to him and find out figure out what we should do. All right?"

"Yes, James... that sounds fine." Albus gave James a thin smile through the tears in his eyes. "I'll go round up Rosie and the younger kids from the cafe downstairs while you're in there."

XxxxxxX

Despite hearing the door open and close, Harry didn't look away from Ginny's face. He didn't want to miss a second of his wife's life, even now at the end. It didn't matter right now who had come in, or what they wanted. It just didn't... 

"Dad?"

Harry suppressed a sob. He didn't want to speak to James... but then it suddenly occurred to him that in the depths of his own sorrow his family, especially his children, was also suffering. He felt selfish.

"Dad?"

Harry swallowed and turned to look at his oldest son. James had turned into a fine man. In this man of nearly sixty years, there was very little sign of the laughing prankster he had been as a boy, much to Harry's regret. A wife and children, and then grandchildren, had taught James the value of taking things seriously to the deprivation of his ability to not do so.

Harry sighed. "James... how is everyone holding up? Is everyone here?"

James nodded. "Everybody who could come is here, except for Ron, of course. He said he was too busy, but you know that means he's holed up somewhere with his latest fling. I don’t know sometimes what to do with that boy…"

Harry watched his son's face grow red with anger, but this wasn't the time for it. "Please don't. Not now." He put a hand on his son's shoulder and squeezed. "Ron will come around, eventually. Trust me... from one father to another; troublemaking sons eventually stop being troublemakers. I learned that with you, you'll learn that with Ronald, yeah?"

James nodded, breathing deeply. "Yeah. Sorry, Dad. I didn't mean to..." He shook his head. "The Healer said we... the family... should take the time to say goodbye. I didn't want us all rushing in all at once, so I'm going to be sending in people in twos and threes. So... "James shrugged. He looked into his father's face and for the first time saw something other than the passive strength that had always marked it. "Dad, why don't you come get something to eat with me. Or at least have a cup of tea."

Harry shook his head and smiled at James. "No... I'm not leaving. Not until it's over. And yeah, tell everyone they can come in and say goodbye."

"All right. You're sure about the tea?" James felt something cold move through him, but brushed it off. It was nothing... just the sorrow of losing his mother.

Harry smiled again. It was a loving, if not cheerful smile. "Yeah, I'm sure. Thanks anyway. I'll be right here." Just before his son opened the door, Harry called. "James, I'm proud of you, you know."

James stopped at the door and looked back at his father. "I know, Dad." He looked like he wanted to say something more, but simply stepped out.

Harry turned and sat down again. He held Ginny's hand in his own. "He's a good boy, Ginny. A fine father, and turning into a wonderful grand-father. We did right. We did right with all of them..." He wiped the tears from his eyes and laid his head in her lap. He held her as closely as he could from the chair, feeling the rise and fall of her chest. And shortly, it fell and did not rise again.

The weeping came again, but this time it started deeper than it ever had before. The sorrow was wrung from him until he was empty. It tore at his soul, knowing that she'd never smile at him again, never say his name again, and never laugh with him.

He closed his eyes, and the words of Albus Dumbledore, dead for so many years, came to him again. "To the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure." He hugged his wife as tightly as he could, and smiled...

XxxxxxX

James came in as quietly as he could. He smiled sadly, watching his father slumped over his mother's bed, holding his mother as tightly as he could manage. James put a gently hand on his father's shoulder.

"Dad."

Nothing.

"Dad," James said again, slightly louder.

Still nothing.

"Daddy?" James voice became pleading and child-like.

Tears were beginning to form...His dad still wasn't responding.

"Oh Dad....."

XxxxxxX

"So are you ready to go? I didn't want to leave without you, so I waited."

Harry blinked at the light as he opened his eyes. The sun was very bright as it shown down through the glass ceiling of King's Cross Station. Ginny was leaning against the railing, looking as beautiful as ever in her Hogwarts robes. Her hair glistened fire-red in the sun, and he knew that he loved her and he always would love her.

Her smile was infectious. "You're a sight better than being met by Dumbledore, I'll tell you that, Ginny." He took her hand and together they walked down the steps and toward the train.

"I'm going to tell him you said that." Ginny leaned in close and kissed him. She ruffled his thick, coal-black hair and smiled at him again. "It's such a beautiful day..."

Harry could only agree. All was well.

Fin.

********** 

116

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds, 
Or bends with the remover to remove;
O no! it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wandering barque
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come.
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks.
But bears it out, even to the edge of doom.
If this be error, and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

-- William Shakespeare

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.  This story archived at http://www.siye.co.uk/siye/viewstory.php?sid=127737