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SIYE Time:15:12 on 28th March 2024
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Together
By glasscandlegrenades

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Drama, General, Romance
Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Sexual Situations, Violence
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 128
Summary: "I've had enough trouble for a lifetime," Harry Potter tells his friends after the Battle of Hogwarts. Life, however, is not done with Harry. The Wizarding community is left in chaos and it's up to Harry to fix it, and there's the small matter of repairing his relationship with Ginny, strained after months apart. Will Harry ever be able to settle and enjoy a simple life with the ones he loves?
Hitcount: Story Total: 59334; Chapter Total: 3136
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
I wonder if anyone can guess why Rowle is moving around massive amounts of gold and acting recklessly? Who could they be trying to protect? I hate this whole story honestly. I also have to say that exactly a year ago I began planning this story, so thank you all for sticking with it for such a long time. You guys are fantastic. The next time I write something I'm definitely going to flesh it out better so it's more logical. Pretty solid. Chapter is titled after the song "Something Soon" by Car Seat Headrest.




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"It's the Prime Minister!" Hermione whispered, clutching Harry's arm excitedly as a tall man with a toothy grin and thinning hair strutted past them as the quartet made their way into the chapel.

"What's the big deal?" Ron grumbled. "You see our Minister every day. Look, there he is now."

Harry almost laughed at loud at the sight of Kingsley, towering over the other wedding guests, looking very solemn indeed in his coat and tails. Kingsley was the only other member of the Wizarding community present at the event, save the groom's family, and he was presumably invited for his high status and knack for dressing like a Muggle.

The Minister raised a hand at the foursome in greeting as they took their seats in the second row besides Bill and Fleur, who was cradling their small daughter on the lap of her mint-green dress.

Harry glanced around the great room as he settled into the pew, deciding that even Aunt Petunia would have no disparaging comment for such a tasteful event. He hadn't realized that Audrey Bland was so well connected as to have the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom in attendance at her wedding, but poor Hermione had been enlisted to make sure that each of the Weasleys dressed the part for the posh Muggle occasion. Harry had caught sight of Mrs. Weasley as she had entered the chapel just before them, looking as though a great bird had hatched on her head.

"Sacrebleu, eet is stuffy in this place, and I am leaking everywhere," Fleur complained from under her own gargantuan hat. Ron turned bright red, but Harry noticed that many heads had turned in the witch's direction since she had taken her seat. "'Arry, please, 'old the baby while I find some relief."

And suddenly Harry found Ginny's young niece cradled in his arms as her mother turned heads walking up the aisle of the chapel, her poor husband following closely behind.

"Leaking?" Ron repeated in a terrified whisper, leaning towards Harry. Harry himself shrugged, offering a finger to the fussy child in his arms.

The only word Harry could think of that adequately described Victoire Weasley was angelic. He had never considered himself to be overly attached to babies, assuming that his deep fondness for Teddy was the result of his close bond with the boy's parents. But here he was, staring at Victoire, blinking up at him from his arms, and thinking only of how perfect she was.

"Potter!" Ginny interrupted, elbowing him in the rib. "Should I be jealous?"

Harry shook his head, snapped out of his reverie.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's the Veela thing, Harry, I swear," Ginny said reassuringly, patting his arm. "You were never like this with Teddy. Look what it's done to Bill."

Harry nodded, acknowledging that Bill's adoration for his daughter seemed to transcend the rational. He'd first noticed this fact at Ginny's birthday dinner some weeks prior, when Bill, normally so cool and composed, had run from the Burrow's kitchen with his hands over his ears shouting, "I can't stand it!" after failing to calm a colicky Victoire.

Bill had managed to reign in some of the madness for the last few weeks, but the effect of the new baby on the family was an intense one. Hermione wouldn't even let herself hold the child, for she wept profusely every time the blonde cherub was placed in her arms.

Hermione now was eyeing Victoire uneasily, as though Harry was going to suddenly deposit the baby into her own lap, but it was Ron who spoke first as the last of the guests had found their seats and a violinist struck up an uplifting composition that echoed lushly around the church.

Fleur slid back into the pew beside Harry, whatever leakage issue she'd been experiencing hopefully resolved, and beckoned him to hand Victoire back over as he turned to hear what his best friend was saying.

"Can't believe Percy's gone and made George his best man," Ron voiced in a hushed whisper. "D'you think he'll have something up his sleeve? I wish Fred was here to see it."

Harry and Ginny smiled appreciatively, but Hermione frowned. "Well, it's probably because Fred isn't here to see it that Percy asked George, don't you think?" she asked her husband mildly. Ginny's eyebrows went up as she looked away pointedly. Harry was a bit surprised at Hermione for bringing Ron down so abruptly, though her comment was innocent enough in nature.

"Merlin forbid I forget for one bloody moment," Ron muttered back, as the priest stepped onto the dais at the front of the church. Ron took in the man's dress and looked gleefully back to Harry, his irritation with Hermione forgotten.

"Are they robes?" he asked excitedly, and Harry nodded quickly before turning to Ginny and giving her a meaningful look. However, she only shook her head imperceptibly before turning to the back of the church, where Percy and Mrs. Weasley were now walking happily down the aisle, Mrs. Weasley dabbing at her eyes profusely with a scrap of lace. They were followed by George, arm-in-arm with a pretty Muggle woman that must've been Audrey's sister, themselves followed a gaggle of small children, tossing petals before the bride.

Harry had never seen Audrey in her own world, surrounded by her own friends and family before, and the difference between her here and at the Weasley's home was remarkable. She walked confidently on the arm of her father, wearing a long veil affixed to the crown of her head with some kind of tiara. Percy looked utterly beside himself as she reached him and her hand was placed in his own.

The priest smiled across the gathering of people congregated in the pews, before opening his mouth to speak.

"The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you," he said, drawing his hands together.

"And also with you," those in the church chanted back en masse. Ginny looked at Harry, wide-eyed.

"We're meant to speak?" she asked in alarm.

Harry shook his head. Around them, the various Weasleys were all looking around in some distress, having not been apprised of the more Christian aspects of the Muggle wedding ceremony. Harry too was thankfully unaware of such procedures, this being his first Muggle wedding.

The words were not remarkably different than those in the Wizarding ceremonies; perhaps more reference to God than Harry was used to, but soon the rings had been exchanged and Percy and his bride were sharing a kiss as London high society cheered them on.

The church bells began to ring as Percy and Audrey made their way back up the aisle, followed by George and Audrey's sister, to the raucous applause of all their guests. Everyone began to collect themselves and their things before making their way out of the church and onto Dartmouth House for the reception.

"Muggle weddings are quite boring, aren't they?" Ron said to Harry as he picked up the top hat he'd been advised to purchase alongside his jacket. "I mean, nothing even caught fire."

"I thought it was lovely," Hermione snapped from beside him. "It was certainly posh, and I doubt anyone suggested to Audrey that she cut costs by hosting the reception in her back garden."

Ron turned a very peculiar shade of violet has Hermione clicked past him in her high heels and, before Harry or Ginny could speak, stomped after her.

Harry looked down at Ginny.

"What the hell is going on with them?" he asked. But a faint blush was beginning to creep up Ginny's neck as well.

"Oh, you know those two," she said breezily. "I expect they're rowing because Robards is making you lot pull such long hours right now. Shall we go on foot?"

"Er- okay," Harry said, following her out of the cathedral.

They set off down St. George's, Ginny fanning herself in the August heat.

"Did you know Audrey's family was so bloody rich?" she asked Harry under her breath as they passed another small group of wedding guests.

"No idea," Harry said, thinking back to the Muggle Prime Minister in his tails. Percy must've had a cow at the sheer stress of hosting such a man.

"I wonder if she thinks all Wizarding families are dead broke or if it's just us," Ginny voiced curiously. "I'll bet Percy's convinced her the Burrow's a castle to our lot."

"I'm sure Percy's been totally forthcoming," Harry said kindly.

Ginny snorted and mumbled something that sounded very much like, "My arse." Harry grinned.

They reached the reception hall and stepped in the entryway. Ginny walked in first, and as she made her way through the foyer the high, Georgian windows cast pools of light onto the flagstones before her, bathing her in a dim glow that radiated from her hair to her feet. Harry loved watching her the organza material of her dress swish around her calves as she walked forward, and the way her fiery hair fell across her shoulder as she turned to speak to him.

"I think the ballroom's just over- oof!"

For Harry had grabbed her by the arm and was pulling her in the opposite direction, towards a tiny stairwell in the far-left corner of the hall.

"What are you doing?" Ginny cried.

"I need the loo," Harry said, as several women who all looked to be close friends of Audrey walked in from the patio giggling heavily and smelling a bit of Dubonnet. "I didn't want to go alone."

Ginny rolled her eyes but continued to let herself be dragged along until they reached the stairwell, upon which point Harry pushed her against the wall, wrapping one hand around her waist and the other in her sweet-smelling hair as he kissed her neck, her chest, that fantastic place behind her ear.

Ginny sighed and let her head fall back for a moment before leaning forward and lifting Harry's chin so that he could meet her gaze. She was wearing perhaps his favorite expression; one of sheer joy mixed with a mirthful teasing, and she pressed her lips to his gently before pushing him away again.

"I'm not shagging you in this stairwell," she said happily, gazing up at him.

"Did I ask you to?" Harry said, returning to her neck.

"Not so much with words," Ginny replied breathily. "But in other ways…."

"I really bloody love you, you know," Harry growled into her ear.

Instead of the laughter and return of affections that Harry had anticipated hearing, Ginny stilled under him for a moment.

"What?" he asked, looking down at her.

She bit her lip in uncertainty. "Nothing, Harry. I love you, too," she said, before kissing him again. Harry pressed his tongue against her lips, and Ginny broke away again, laughing.

"What?" Harry asked, starting to feel annoyed now.

"You just - you get so - oh, I don't know, so romantic at weddings, Harry," Ginny admitted. "You were like this at Ron and Hermione's, too. It's odd."

Harry felt his face get hot at an alarming rate. Ginny noticed him reddening immediately and her expression flew back to one of concern.

"What's happened?" she asked.

"Nothing," Harry said. "I don't want to make you feel pressured, Ginny, that's all."

"Pressured to do what?" Ginny pushed, taking him by one hand and using her other to brush some hair off his forehead.

Harry closed his eyes briefly, knowing that she wasn't inferring what he'd hoped she would. "Look, Ginny, let's not talk about this now," he said. "I'm sure everything's getting started in the ballroom, let's go get some champagne and have a dance…."

"Pressured to do what?" Ginny asked, her eyes narrowing into her most Mrs. Weasley-ish stare.

Harry cursed himself under his breath, fixing his gaze at a spot just over Ginny's left shoulder.

"Look, Ginny, for pretty much my whole life all I've wanted, er, all I've really wanted was a family…." Harry began, chancing a glance down at his petite girlfriend.

Ginny, whom Harry had thought would look irritated, instead wore an expression as if he had struck her. She dropped his hand abruptly.

"Are you trying to tell me you want to have a baby?" she asked in horror.

"What?!" Harry cried. "No, Ginny. Merlin, you think I want to have a baby?"

"Then what are you saying?" Ginny asked, sitting down heavily on the last stair and looking up at Harry with her head in her hands.

"I want you to be my family," Harry said. "I want us to get married, Ginny."

Ginny was quiet for a moment, staring up at him.

"You are my family, Harry," she said softly. "How does a piece of paper change that?"

"It's just different..." Harry began.

"How?" Ginny interrupted. "How is it different? Will getting married change how much I care about you?"

"Look, Ginny, let's just go back to the wedding, and we can talk about it later?" Harry said, flushing again and trying to lead her up from the stair.

"Don't touch me like that," she snapped, and now Harry blanched, for he had upset her.

"I don't want to row," Harry said.

"You just told me you wanted to get married!" Ginny said. "In a way that suggests you want to get married in the more immediate future than you and I have ever discussed! You're not allowed to walk away from that."

"So I have to stand here and listen to you explain to me why it doesn't matter that we're not married when you already know I don't agree? I'd rather just go have a few drinks and pretend nothing happened."

"Well, it's too late for that," Ginny said. "But I suppose you're right, they'll be wondering where we are."

And with that, she stomped off, her high heels clacking on the marble floors of the entrance hall. Harry swore under his breath before following after her.

Ron and Hermione had clearly been at it again, for when Harry entered the ballroom, he found Ron sitting dejectedly at the table with a glass of champagne in his hand. Hermione was chatting happily with the Muggle Prime Minister's wife as Percy and Audrey twirled awkwardly around the dance floor.

Ginny went off quickly to greet George and Angelina, leaving Harry to slump into a seat besides Ron.

"Remind you a bit of the Yule Ball, doesn't it?" Ron asked Harry.

"What's going on with you and Hermione?" Harry said. The tip of Ron's nose reddened just slightly.

"Oh, you know how they are. You make one simple suggestion and suddenly you're trying to ruin her whole life."

"You have no idea," Harry groaned.

"What?" Ron asked.

"I told Ginny I want to get married," Harry admitted. "She doesn't seem too keen on the idea."

"I thought you two had always planned on that?" Ron said, sitting up a little straighter.

"Yeah, I suppose," Harry said. "I told her that I'd like to get married in the near-future and she got pretty angry."

"What kind of backwards family are we apart of where the blokes have to do all the convincing?" Ron asked, rolling his eyes.

Harry shrugged. "This is worse than the Yule Ball," he said, taking in the happy scene around him while unable to feel anything more than a general malaise at the thought of Ginny's upset. Mrs. Weasley danced past the pair, doing the foxtrot with Audrey's father.

"I don't know," replied Ron. "Even after destroying seven Horcruxes, sometimes everything feels somehow more complicated now."

Harry snorted, and they were both quiet for a moment. From where they sat, they had the perfect view of Hermione, who'd brought Kingsley into her conversation with the Muggle Prime Minister. Both men were listening to Hermione, who was gesticulating wildly and wearing a bit of a crazed look on her face, with a clearly high regard.

Ron smiled to himself for a moment before glancing back to Harry.

"She may drive me absolutely mental, but I do reckon she's the greatest thing that's ever happened to me," he said, taking a sip of champagne.



The flat was long dark as Harry and Ginny made their way across the threshold, Ginny stumbling a bit as she kicked off her heels and sank onto the sofa.

"Let's go to bed," Harry suggested, pulling at his stiff necktie.

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head and sitting up a little straighter. "No, I want us to talk about earlier."

"Ginny," Harry took a deep breath, his eyes rolling just slightly upward. "You've been drinking, and we'll feel so much better if we talk in the morning. I'll make coffee and we can get everything sort-"

"Do you really think we're not a family?" Ginny asked, her voice breaking on the word family.

"Fuck," thought Harry. He'd never meant to make her cry. Though, she must've been drunker than he'd realized if she was getting teary over his comment.

Harry took a deep breath and sat beside her on the sofa. Her head fell easily onto his shoulder and his strung his fingers through hers.

"Of course I think you're my family," Harry said softly, kissing the top of her head. "But…. Look, Ginny, I don't know if it's difficult for you to understand because family has always been this given thing for you, but, with me, it's always just been bits and pieces of what I could string together. Sirius, Ron, Hermione, your parents… that was always enough for me, being able to choose my family. But with you, in some ways, it doesn't feel like a choice. You're a part of me in ways that those people never were and never will be."

Ginny looked up at him. "But that's not enough for you?"

Harry gave her a wry smile. "Perhaps I'm being selfish," he admitted. "I want more. It gets kind of old, being the only Potter."

Her eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?"

Harry laughed. "Is it working?"

Ginny yawned, stretching out a bit and wrapping an arm around his chest. Harry, in turn, traced small patterns in the freckle constellations that dotted her shoulders.

"A little," she murmured.

"I know it's a lot," Harry said, though internally regretting none of his boldness. Ginny was right. Weddings did bring out something bizarre in him.

"I don't want you to think that I don't feel the same way about you," Ginny said softly, closing her eyes. "It's just that, Harry, I'm nineteen. There are a lot of things I want to do. There are a lot of things I want to be."

"And you can't do or be those things if we get married?" Harry pushed.

Ginny's eyes opened, their murky brown depths more penetrating than Harry had ever known them to be before.

"You and I both know, the minute that ring goes on my finger, I will only be known as 'Harry Potter's wife' for the rest of my life," she said with a note of finality, closing her eyes again and reaching up to stroke the side of Harry's face.



Monday morning, the lift deposited Harry not in front of the Auror office, as was typical, but rather in the lowest levels of the Ministry of Magic. Harry, carrying a manila folder, followed a dark corridor to one of the dungeons abutting the court chambers of the Wizengamot.

Blood thundered in his ears as he walked the long halls, contemplating exactly what he would say. He hoped the adrenaline would be to his advantage rather than his downfall, but he knew his exact presentation was essential in the task that he was about to approach.

A silver-robed guard greeted him at a block of cells, producing a small key that he handed to Harry surreptitiously, before continuing on his patrol of the corridor.

Harry turned to the nearest door, inserted the key in the lock, and let himself into the tiny cell. The blonde wizard before him was shackled to the table with a manacle that glowed slightly blue.

Rowle smiled at Harry as he entered, but didn't speak as the other wizard sat himself at the table.

"I apologize for the intrusion," Harry said in a calculatedly passive tone. "I'm sure you were expecting to use these moments for some quiet contemplation of your circumstances."

Rowle still didn't speak. Harry leaned forward just slightly.

"I came to speak to you, Rowle, about your options before your plea hearing this morning," said Harry, glancing up at the wizard in front of him. "Typically, your defender would go over this with you, but as you declined your own counsel and had legal aid appointed by the department, I thought perhaps I could come instead."

Rowle scowled in response. Harry laid his folder on the table and opened it, shuffling the parchment inside. He looked up at Rowle again.

"You're looking at spending the rest of your life in a cell," Harry said. "Dolohov, Macnair, they've all received the maximum sentence for their crimes, and you are facing charges for the attack on the Ministry and Barrowden as well."

Still, Rowle regarded Harry with a smug indifference.

Harry cleared his throat and continued.

"We haven't been able to locate Dagmar's money," Harry admitted. "All the wizarding banks in Eastern Europe have been completely compliant with our inquiries and yet there's no record of yourself or Filen Hornwort opening an account."

Rowle's smug look only deepened into something quite resembling happiness. His wide smirk brought Harry to the very depths of discomfort, but he pressed on.

"You said a few things when we found you at Durmstrang that I found particularly interesting, Rowle. Would you like to know what they were?" Harry asked. Rowle still said nothing.

"You said that you were wreaking havoc on Britain without purpose," Harry said. "I might have believed that had you been operating alone, but we know that you and the Lestranges were working together, and we have still been unable to locate them since their attack in Hogsmeade. I might have believed that if you had murdered your great-aunt and stolen her money to set up a comfortable life for yourself in the north. But your quarters at Durmstrang were sparse, and the money is nowhere to be found. Do you know what that leads me to believe?"

Rowle's smile had vanished, replaced by a look of vague discomfort that he didn't do well to hide.

"It leads me to believe that you didn't choose to go to Scandinavia. It makes me think you were sent there. It makes me think that you were told by someone to flee the Battle of Hogwarts before your master was brought down. It makes me think that your reckless attacks are more calculated than random acts of terror. Your mission has been to distract the Ministry while the Lestranges worked for something, and you helped them obtain massive amounts of gold after their accounts had been frozen."

Harry was sure he saw Rowle frown for a moment before carefully rearranging his expression into one of impassivity.

"Well," Harry said. "I've got good news for you, Rowle. We've changed a few things since the first war. I know your defender has explained to you that you have the ability to plead no contest to some of your charges this morning. I'm here in his stead to explain to you how it would benefit you to do so."

"Kingsley and I took this idea from the MACUSA," Harry explained. "Instead of only being able to enter a plea of guilty or not guilty, you'll be able to plead no contest, which is neither an admission of guilt or innocence. In exchange for such a plea to the charges of the April, 1999 attack on the Ministry and the murder of your aunt, you will receive a shorter sentence. You will, however, be expected to provide information and aide in our case against the Lestrange brothers."

"Is that all?" Thorfinn asked quietly.

"You have been acting at their behest for two years and they don't give a damn about you!" Harry said passionately. "They told you to go to Durmstrang knowing full well you'd be giving yourself up and had Dolohov poison half the guards of Azkaban so they could get away with Merlin-knows-what. You're really okay by having your strings pulled by those puppet masters?"

Harry had let his feelings betray his quasi-interrogation. Rowle's frightening smile had returned at the sight of Harry's distress.

"You have no idea what you're talking about, Harry Potter," the wizard claimed. "I didn't become a follower of the Dark Lord to make friends." He said the word with an air of disdain. "There are things worth going to Azkaban for!"

Harry recoiled suddenly as if Rowle had struck him. He closed his folder and stood from the table.

"You're defender will be in shortly to reiterate your options to you and escort you to the courtroom," he said formally.

Rowle nodded. "I look forward to it."

Harry left the cell and made his way back to the hall, handing the key to the guard before walking up towards the courtrooms.

It was a zoo. It seemed that the entire Ministry had left their Monday-morning tasks to come here Rowle's plea, though Harry could hardly blame them, as they had been the majority of the victims of his attack.

"How'd it go?" Ron asked, coming up behind him with Neville and Padma in tow.

"Terrible," Harry said.

"I told you not to do it," Padma said. "You get too upset, Harry."

"Thanks, Padma," Harry said miserably.

"Sorry," she shrugged.

They entered the vast, square courtroom and found seats on the hard, wooden benches directly behind the chair where Rowle would sit during his arraignment.

"I hate this room," Ron said, looking down with a shiver at the chair in the middle, still with the same chains that Harry remembered from his own trial the summer before his fifth year at school.

Witches and wizards continued to trickle in, filling the benches quickly as the plum-robed members of the Wizengamot took their seats in front of the chair.

"Quiet in the courtroom!" one of the members called, and a general hush descended around the room.

"Bring him in," Elphias Doge called to the room at large, and a door opened as Rowle entered, flanked by two silver-robed guards and his Ministry defender.

He was led to the chair in the center of the room, and when he sat the chains clinked to life, binding him in place.

"Thorfinn Rowle," Elphias Doge said. "You stand accused of crimes against humanity, including the persecution and murder of hundreds of Muggles and Muggle-borns between the years of 1996 and 1998, an attack on this Ministry of Magic that resulted in the deaths of three witches and wizards, a bodily and unwarranted assault upon the person of Mr. Ronald Bilius Weasley, an Auror in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and the use of an Unforgivable Curse in the murder of your aunt, Dagmar Rowle. How do you plead to these charges laid against you?"

The Ministry defender stood and faced the members of the Wizengamot.

"Mr. Rowle submits a plea of not guilty on all charges laid against him," he said, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.

There was a brief moment of silence as the courtroom processed this news. Half the people there had personally seen Rowle blast apart the ceiling to the great Atrium just a year ago.

And then there was an uproar as the witches and wizards rose to their feet, crying out and jeering at Rowle as he smiled up at the Wizengamot.

"Order!" a plum-robed wizard cried to the room. "Order in the court!"

"Mr. Rowle," Elphias shouted down to Rowle. "You are dismissed to your cell. The Wizengamot will convene in a weeks time to set a date for your trial."

The silver-robed guards walked forward and the chains released Rowle. He was led quickly from the room.

"Damn it!" Harry cried, as the clamor of the room reached a peak. "He just wants to drag it out! The trial will take ages with all the shit he's done. It'll be a circus."

"Well, are you surprised?" Ron asked, already standing and scanning the chamber in an attempt to catch Hermione before she exited the chamber with her colleagues from the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures.

"Who is he protecting?" Harry said. "The Lestranges don't give a damn about him!"

"He was going to go away for a long time regardless," Neville said soothingly. "We really had very little to offer him in terms of bargain."

Harry still felt nauseous. He stood with the rest of them and began to make for the door, anxious to be out of the dreary space. He had just reached the hall when Neville reached for his sleeve.

"Can we have a word?" Neville asked. "It'll only be a moment."

Harry felt that his disappointment must've been plainly splashed across his face, for he had planned on calling quits on today and Apparating home to Ginny during her last week before training for the season began.

"Sure," he sighed. "What's going on?"

Neville took a deep breath.

"I'm leaving the Ministry," he said.

Harry felt his jaw drop.

"What?" he asked.

"Sprout retired in June," Neville continued. "She recommended me to McGonagall to interview for Herbology professor. I found out I got it on Friday."

Harry's head was swimming. He collected himself enough to meet Neville's own steadfast gaze.

"Congratulations," Harry said curtly. "But what about the Lestranges?"

"What about them?" Neville asked, suddenly glancing away.

"You don't want to bring them to justice? They obviously have some kind of goal - something they're trying to accomplish besides wreaking havoc and killing Muggles. Don't you want to make them pay for what they've done to your parents?"

"Honestly, Harry?" Neville asked. "No. I'd get the satisfaction from knowing that they weren't able to hurt anyone else, but there is no justice for what happened to my parents. I'm making myself miserable trying to get justice for them! Nothing I can ever do to the Lestranges will make them mad, will take them from their families and the people who love them. And I'm not sure I'd want to."

"You only joined up two years ago!" Harry said, hearing pleading in his voice. If Neville was leaving it would truly mean that their mission was a failure, that their goals were worthless. Voldemort was gone but his terrible followers still reigned strong.

"Two years has been long enough," Neville said with a kind note of finality. "I never see Hannah, I never garden anymore. It's time for me to start living, doing what I want to do. I joined the Office as a sense of obligation, not desire. I'm sorry, Harry."

He gave Harry a bracing squeeze on the shoulder before turning down the corridor.

Someone just behind Harry cleared his throat. He turned to see Ron staring at him with great sympathy.

"You knew," Harry said. It was an accusation, not a question. Ron shrugged.

"He told me yesterday," said Ron. "He was worried you'd be upset."

"He's gone and given up on everything we've been working towards," Harry said dismally. He could swear Ron rolled his eyes just a degree, and was shocked by his friend's suddenly striking resemblance to Ginny.

"Come on," Ron said, placing a hand on Harry's elbow. "Let's get you home. My sister'll be waiting for her daily marriage proposal."

Harry followed along without comment.
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