SIYE Time:21:35 on 1st December 2024 SIYE Login: no | | |
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Days, Weeks…Years By M_And
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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, General, Humor
Warnings: Death, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Violence
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 11
Summary: The Final Battle was over, and Voldemort was no more. As the reality of it all sank in, Harry saw Ginny sitting next to her mother in the Great Hall, and he knew they would have time now, days, weeks, even years, to be together. This is a story about some of the moments that take place in those days, weeks, and years after the fall of Voldemort’s reign of terror.
Hitcount: Story Total: 4943
Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.
Author's Notes: This is a short story idea that grabbed me and wouldn’t let go. The actual quote from DH that is inspiration for this story is “…There would be time to talk later, hours and days and maybe years in which to talk…” (Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, by J. K. Rowling, Page 745.) I took a little liberty and changed the time frames, but the essence is still the same.
I want to thank Spenser Hemmingway for his efforts in making this readable. Thanks Spenser for working your brand of magic on my tale. I value your input and opinion.
Finally, for those of you who are following my other novel length story, never fear. I fully intend to finish it and I am working on it, but sometimes ideas come along that you just have to explore. I hope you can be patient with me. Now on to the story! I hope you enjoy it! – M_And
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Days, Weeks…Years
Chapt er 1 — Together At Last
Harry Potter stumbled down the stairs from the headmaster’s office. He knew that Professor McGonagall would probably fill that position now and therefore the office would be hers; but he figured he would always think of it as Dumbledore’s. Climbing over the toppled stone gargoyles that guarded the Head’s office caused his limbs to scream in protest from the exertion. His cloths were torn and filthy, soaked in sweat and blood with most of the blood being his. He was covered in cuts, bruises, and burns from head to toe, and had a dazed haggard expression on his face as he numbly limped along, following his two best friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.
In truth, they were not in much better shape, though perhaps not quite as fatigued as he was, and perhaps a little less bloody. All three of them looked gaunt and malnourished. Living rough off the land for ten months most certainly had not agreed with them. They continued to trudge through the corridors and hallways of the ancient castle, though Harry had no clue as to where they were actually going. He was content to just let them lead the way. Agonizing decisions like which direction to turn were too much for him right now. He was fighting a loosing battle to maintain the tenuous control he had over his emotions, which seemed to continually on the verge of bursting out of him.
Sadness, relief, anger, and joy all warred within him, but mostly he felt a profound sense of guilt. He’d done it. He had won. Somehow, against the odds, he had survived. He just couldn’t comprehend how he had managed to come out of it alive while so many good people like Fred, Remus and Tonks hadn’t. It wasn’t right! It wasn’t fair! Even though Ron didn’t blame him for his older brother’s death, how could he be sure the rest of the Weasleys wouldn’t? What must Mr. and Mrs. Weasley think of him? Or George? The Weasleys were the only thing resembling a family he had left, and his being around them had cost them one of their own. If Ginny didn’t despise him for breaking up with her and leaving her behind, then surely she must hate him for being the cause of her beloved brother’s death.
Best not to let thoughts wander down that path just now, the pain was almost unbearable now as it was without dwelling on how she must loath him. He had to try and focus on something else.
In an effort to find some distraction he forced himself to take in his surroundings. Even through his tired, bloodshot, and unfocused eyes, Harry could see the devastation that was pervasive throughout the castle. Suits of armor were scattered across the worn, smooth, flagstone floor where they had been blasted apart. Scorch marks from hexes and curses marred the once beautiful old stone castle walls. Doors to classrooms were blown inwards, splintered beyond recognition. Whole stairways had been blasted off landings to lie in piles of rubble. Tapestries lay in burnt heaps on the floor, and pictures and portraits had gaping holes in them, damaged beyond the ability to repair them. Stained-glass shards covered the floors and stairs in a dizzying array of colors from where they had been shattered inwards during the battle, and whole sections of walls had been crumbled and crushed, leaving cavernous sections of the castle open to the outside elements. Harry had never witnessed such destruction, and his throat clenched on him has he tried to fight the ever growing urge to howl in agony at seeing the first real place he called home so badly damaged.
In an eerie sort of way, Hogwarts mirrored the Wizarding World. Both had seen and experienced so much damage at the hands of Voldemort and his Death Eaters that their survival still seemed to hang in the balance even though the maniacal Dark Lord that threatened them was gone and his followers defeated and scattered.
The suffering everyone was going through only added to Harry’s consuming thoughts of guilt. “If only I had figured things out sooner,” he berated bitterly to himself. “If only I hadn’t spent so much time floundering around.” He swiped roughly at offending tears rolling down from his eyes with the back of a grubby hand, his unconscious sniffle alerting his friends that he was in distress.
Ron, the first to hear him, turned his head back towards his best mate. “All right there Harry?” he croaked, his voice thick with emotion and sore from yelling. Ron didn’t look like he was faring much better, as the tear tracks were plainly evident on his grimy face as well. He still couldn’t quite believe Fred was gone.
Harry was struggling mightily to command his emotions, but it was all becoming too much. The sheer scope of the tragedy and the losses was becoming a crushing weight that was pressing down on him. He staggered under the pervasive mass of guilt. Fred, Remus and Tonks, Colin Creevey, Professor Dumbledore…Sirius…his parents, where does the list end? All the deaths, coupled with the suffering of so many countless others, became a tremendous oppressive burden from which there was seemingly no escape and no absolution, and all of it because he was too thick to figure it out and slow to act. Falling to his knees, clutching his chest and gasping for breath, Harry was in serious jeopardy of succumbing to his guilt.
“Harry!” Hermione screamed, dropping down beside him and desperately trying to keep him from toppling over. “Harry, what’s wrong?” she asked, her voice full of panic and fear. “What’s happening?”
“Can’t…breathe…” he panted harshly, “crushing…me…” He was lurching precariously, trying to remain upright on his knees. It took all Hermione’s strength to keep him from tipping over on to his face. Ron scrambled to Harry’s other side, placing an arm around his shoulders to steady him.
“Ron we have to get him to Madame Pomfrey,” Hermione said shakily, struggling to maintain her balance while holding on to Harry.
“No!” Harry wheezed. “Not…the…hospital…wing. Gryffindor…common…room.”
Ron scooped up Harry, tapping into some inner reserve of strength he didn’t know he had, and began heading in the direction of the seventh floor entrance to Gryffindor Tower. About halfway there, his strength began to wane and his steps became faltering, but good fortune was with them as they ran into his older brothers, Bill and Charlie, who immediately rushed to their aid.
“What’s happened?” Bill asked, seeing Harry’s gray pallor and his irregular breathing.
“We don’t know,” Hermione said in a raspy voice. “He just fell to his knees and made some remark about it crushing him. Since then his breathing has been getting worse.”
“Why aren’t you going to the hospital wing?” asked Charlie.
“Because he didn’t want to go there. He asked us to take him to the Gryffindor common room,” Ron said laboring to catch his breath.
Bill called forth his wolf patronus, and sent it off with a wave of his wand. “I’ve sent word for Madame Pomfrey to meet us there. Come on Charlie, grab a side and let’s haul him up there and out of the halls before we attract a mob.” The two big men easily lifted the scrawny smaller one, and proceeded straight towards the Gryffindor quarters.
“Thanks…Bill,” Harry gasped out, wheezing so badly he sounded like a severe asthmatic.
“No problem Harry,” Bill grunted. “Besides, Ginny would strip our hides if we let anything happen to you.” Charlie chuckled at that from the other side of Harry. The two men continued their brisk pace as they carried Harry the rest of the way to the common room, while Ron and Hermione trailed in their wake.
As they reach the portrait of The Fat Lady, they realized that they didn’t know the password. The Fat lady, who had been celebrating perhaps more than was good for her, looked out at them owlishly. Wearing a gold silk lampshade that had burgundy tassels hanging around it, she had a huge purplish stain decorating the front of her pink silk gown, evidence of a mishap with a goblet of red wine, a nice Merlot perhaps if the deep violet color was any indication. Her friend Violet was half standing half sitting beside her and singing bawdy bar tunes while guzzling from a bottle of Ogden’s best. Vi was clearly three sheets to the wind; that is if you didn’t count the one she wore as a toga.
“Don’t suppose you could let us in even though we don’t know the password?” Charlie asked hopefully.
“Nnn-nooo-noo one getsh in with-BURP-out the pashword,” she said slurring her words. “You-yoush should kno…knoow thaat!”
“We’ve just got to get in,” Hermione pleaded, “Harry’s not well and we’ve got to get him to a bed!”
The fat lady did a comical double take as she struggled to focus on Bill and Charlie holding a gray and gasping Harry between them, and then at the concerned faces of Ron and Hermione. She sobered up instantly at the site. “Oh my word! It’s you three! Well why didn’t you say so? Heavens! Go right in dears, go right in.” The picture swung open to reveal the portrait hole, which allowed them admittance.
“Mental that one, I’m telling yuh,” Ron said in annoyance.
The common room didn’t look too badly damaged. The windows were blown out of course, and there was a fine layer of dust on everything, but on the whole it had escaped major damage. Bill and Charlie carried Harry over to an overstuffed comfy looking couch by the fire, and gently set him down, keeping him upright so that he could breathe easier. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him for support mostly as Harry didn’t look to have much strength to remain vertical.
Charlie pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed at the fireplace. “Incendio” he muttered. Bright blue sparks flew out of his wand into the fireplace, starting a warm cozy fire. “I’ll go let Mum, Dad and the others know we’re here,” he said giving them a meaningful look as he headed for the door.
Bill knew that by “others” Charlie really meant Ginny.
Ten minutes later saw Molly and Arthur Weasley scrambling through the portrait hole followed by Charlie and Ginny. The three newcomers looked decidedly worried as they scanned the room, and found it empty.
As if on cue, Bill came down the staircase leading to the boys’ dorm rooms and moved purposefully towards his family. “I was just coming to wait for you lot,” he said by way of greeting. He moved over by Ginny to throw a comforting arm around her shoulder, giving it a squeeze to let her know everything would be all right. “Where are George and Percy?”
“George didn’t want to leave Fred unattended,” Mr. Weasley explained, grief etched deeply into his thin face. “Percy stayed with him to keep him company. His change in attitude is…well it’s quite remarkable, isn’t it?”
“He’s always been a good boy Arthur,” Molly said somewhat wistfully, “and thank Merlin he’s finally getting his priorities straightened out.” For Molly Weasley, that meant putting family first. “Now Bill, where’s Harry? Has Poppy gotten here yet?”
“Madam Pomfrey got here just after Charlie left Mum. She had Ron and I move Harry up to the dorms so she could get him to a bed. She gave him a calming draught and a dreamless sleep potion. Knocked him out cold.”
“What about his breathing?” Mrs. Weasley asked in concern. “Charlie told us he looked all gray because he couldn’t breathe.”
“He’s doing better Mum,” Bill assured her. “As soon as he took the potions he passed out and his breathing eased almost immediately. Madam Pomfrey thinks he is suffering from severe anxiety brought on by profound feelings of guilt and extreme fatigue. Ron and Hermione reckon he’s beating himself up over Fred’s death, and probably everyone else’s deaths as well.”
Ginny scowled. “That sounds like Harry,” she said in disgust. “Stupid noble git!”
“Ginny! How can you say that?” Mrs. Weasley asked, shocked at her daughter’s outburst. “Harry has been through so much this last year, if the past few days are any indication. It shouldn’t come as a surprise really that he’s been traumatized by his ordeal.”
“Mum…you don’t understand,” Ginny said in frustration, putting a hand to her temple and rubbing it. She was developing a raging headache. She knew she was out of line, but sometimes Harry’s penchant for self-recrimination taxed her patience.
Molly gave her daughter a piercing look. “Really? I don’t understand what dear? That Harry broke up with you last year. That he did it to protect you. A motive, by the way, that I respect a great deal young lady. Or perhaps I don’t understand how you still feel very deeply for him, but feel conflicted because your angry with him, scared for him, overjoyed at seeing him again after so long apart, and relieved that he somehow managed to survive while defeating that vile bastard. Which one of those don’t I understand?”
Ginny’s mouth hung open in utter disbelief at her mother’s perceptiveness. She was distantly aware of Bill and Charlie chuckling at her discomfiture. How…how could you possibly know all that?
“For Heaven’s sake Ginny,” her mother chided, “you are hardly the first woman to have those feelings.” Her eyes momentarily showed a little of their normal twinkle. “I’ll wager you a Sickle that our Hermione is experiencing at least a few of those same feelings about your brother right now.”
Ginny’s look of incredulity was priceless. Was there nothing this woman didn’t know about her family? she wondered to herself.
“Ginny love, don’t be too hard on Harry,” her mother said as if answering her daughter’s unspoken question. “Always keep in mind what he had to endure as a child at the hands of those awful Muggle relatives of his. He just isn’t used to how a loving family treats one another. And despite that upbringing, he still sacrificed everything to protect us all. Don’t ever forget what he did here today. I suspect the tale of how he was able to bring this about will be quite extraordinary, even considering it is Harry. Try to be patient and understanding with him dear, it may take him some time to sort things out.
“Now then,” she said in a no nonsense tone of voice, “why don’t you go get some rest yourself. Harry will need your comfort and support when he wakes.” She looked at her daughter again, proud of the young woman she was becoming. As an after thought she added, “And Ginny, for what it’s worth, from the way Harry looked at you last night, I don’t think you have to wonder about his feelings for you. It was pretty evident how he felt.” Her smile eased her daughter’s fears a bit.
“Well now, if you’ll excuse me, I want to talk with Poppy and see if there will be any special concerns about caring for our wayward threesome now that they’re back, off to bed with you now,” the Weasley matriarch directed. Mrs. Weasley turned away from her daughter and towards her oldest son. “Now Bill, where did you say Poppy is?”
“She’s still up in the dorm Mum,” he replied, leading her towards the stairs. “Harry had a number of nasty looking burns and cuts, as well some spell damage. She thought it best to take care of him while he was sedated. She’s going to treat Ron and Hermione while she’s at it.” Their voices faded away as they went up the stairs.
Ginny just stared in awe at her mother’s retreating form. Molly Weasley was a formidable force to be reckoned with in many respects. If nothing else, Bellatrix Lestrange’s demise was testament to that.
Her mother had seen right through her fit of pique. Despite grieving for the loss of her son, she had her finger on the pulse of her family and knew exactly how things stood. Well, her mother was right. She did still have strong feelings for Harry. If she were honest with herself, then she had to admit that she loved him…still.
Ginny had no idea what Harry had been through this past year, and therein lay the crux of the matter. She’d not had one bloody message from him in almost a year. Not one note or one message passed on through mutual friends. Not one damn thing! There was nothing to show that he even thought of her while he was away.
She had most certainly thought of him. There wasn’t one sodding day that went by where she didn’t worry about him, or wonder if she would ever get to see him again, to tell him…that she…
Her hand flew to cover her mouth. And then the dam burst open. Ginny succumbed to deep racking inconsolable sobs. All the anguish of the past ten months poured out of her.
Mr. Weasley, seeing his daughter break down, immediately wrapped her in a protective hug. He gently guided her to the sofa and eased her down, sitting on one side of her. Charlie sat on the other side, a comforting hand on her shoulder. They made barely audible comforting noises, consoling her as she cried. Neither knew what to say to ease her pain, so they said nothing, their steady solid presence acting as a balm for her heartache as she purged herself of her despair and anxiety. After a while her crying eased until she was sniffling in her father’s shoulder.
“Ginny love,” her father said in a voice thick with emotion, “’twill be alright. Even though we lost Fred, everyone else survived, including Harry. I hoped and prayed that he would find away, but things being what they were, well…it was never a sure thing, was it? But it’s over now Ginny. He won. We won. It’s time to bury our dead and move forward.”
“I’ve been so worried for him Daddy,” she said in a small voice, raw from crying. “The not knowing if he was alright, I think that was the scariest part. But it was also the not hearing from him, the not knowing if he even thought about me during all that time apart, that’s what hurts so much. And now that’s it’s all over, I know it was selfish and childish of me, but I can’t help it, I still feel that way.”
“Oh my Ginevra,” Mr. Weasley said soothingly. “I can only imagine how hard it’s been for you. Those thoughts aren’t wrong Ginny dear. They’re honest feelings about someone you care for, and unless I’m completely mistaken, someone you love.”
Ginny did a double take at her father’s remark. Were parents somehow endowed with supernatural powers when they had kids? she thought to herself in wonder.
Charlie seemed to read her thoughts and winked at her. “They still mystify me as well Firefly.” Ginny was not normally fond of pet names, especially cutesy ones, but she had always rather liked Charlie’s nickname for her.
Their father chuckled at the banter. “It’s no great mystery children. Your mother and I were young once, you know. If we seem so wise it’s because we may have some experiences of our own to draw on. After all, wisdom is nothing more than the knowledge one has attained tempered by experiences.”
“Well then you and Mum must have wisdom in spades,” Charlie shot back chuckling.
“I suppose we do at that,” Mr. Weasley said a bit wistfully. He turned his attention back to his youngest child. “The one thing I want you to think on Ginny is this, all the things you felt for Harry while he was gone, and well…I can only imagine he felt many of the same things for you. I’ll bet he worried about you, whether you were safe or not. He probably wondered if you would wait for him or had you moved on to someone else. I imagine that he regretted not having the opportunity to tell you how much you meant to him. But he also had other things he had to focus on, didn’t he? Not the least of which was trying to stay alive while on the run from evil tossers who wanted to kill him. Who could he trust to send a message for him? It’s not like he could rely on owl post you know. You’re mum’s got the right of it. Be patient, and just be there for him. The rest will sort itself out in time.”
“I’ll try Daddy,” Ginny said, still sniffling a little as she wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. “I’m really tired. I think I’ll go on up to bed and try to sleep.”
She gave her dad, and then Charlie a hug, and made her way to the stairs leading up to the girls’ dorms, her father and brother watching as she went. She paused before heading up the stairs, gazing upwards towards the matching stairway that went to the boys’ dorm rooms, her thoughts drifting to the green-eyed raven-haired boy who was asleep within. She turned and slowly made her way up the stairway to the girls’ sixth year dorm rooms.
As she entered, she saw the room had been cleaned and straightened since the last time she was here. The house-elves must have straightened everything up after she left. When it was discovered that her brother was in fact not sick with spattergroit, but was in fact traveling with Undesirable Number One, the Carrows had ransacked the room looking for her, and for information leading to Harry’s whereabouts. She’d been lucky to avoid them. She had been the only remaining occupant of the room when Emmy Thespieare didn’t return after the Christmas holidays. The other sixth year girls were all Muggle-born and had to going into hiding at the start of school. She was actually glad that Emmy didn’t come back as she tended to be overly dramatic. It had been Neville, Seamus, and Lavender who managed to hide her until her parents could get there to take her away at the Easter holiday break.
Tough to fault Harry’s decision to break-up when the first hint of a connection has Death Eaters turning up the school trying to find me, she thought a little bitterly to herself. Though it’s not like everything was so bloody wonderful before that… the memories continued to play, unwanted in her head.
Daily life from the start of school until her parents came to get her was pretty much a constant nightmare. Students were attacked and tortured by roving gangs of Slytherins, all apparently sanctioned by Snape and the Carrows. Though, if the truth be told, Snape did actually intervene on her behalf a couple of times, a good thing too as she had been caught alone on those occasions by Crabbe and Goyle and their little band of foul miscreants. Being slapped around by them was the least of what could have happened to her. It was rumored that several girls from Hufflepuff had been raped.
Ginny found a spare pair of pajamas in her drawer, and headed to the shower to clean the grime off her. When she finished, she returned to her bed and sat cross-legged at the foot, brushing out her wet hair. She was still troubled by her dark thoughts. Being in the room, with all its reminders was certainly not helping to dispel those thoughts either. She sighed, knowing she didn’t want to be in here by herself, and a little annoyed that it made feel that vulnerable. Getting up and putting on her robe, she padded barefoot out of the room and down the stairs. At the bottom, she saw her parents sitting snuggled together, asleep on the sofa by the fire. Charlie and Bill were stretched out in chairs close by, eyes lost in thought. Bill turned his head to gaze at his little sister, giving her a slight nod before turning his eyes back to their contemplation of the fire.
Ginny smiled at him. He was the brother who knew her the best. She and Ron had been close at one time, but that was before her first year. She supposed her temperament was most like the twins, though she was perhaps a bit more reserved than they were, or at least more mature, she thought wryly. She and Percy were not particularly close, and while she and Charlie shared a love of Quidditch, their age difference and Charlie’s job made it difficult for her to really get to know him. Bill was the oldest, and the age gap even greater, but after the incident with the diary and the Chamber of Secrets, it was Bill who really listened to her, who didn’t judge her. It was Bill that helped her through the nightmares and helped her find the courage to go on. That holiday to Egypt had been the tonic that helped her recover from her ordeal.
Ginny walked over to the boys’ stairway, the flagstones cold under her feet. “I really should have grabbed some socks,” she thought ruefully. A small but wicked smile grew on her face, “Maybe I can nick a pair off Harry.”
Reaching the top, she opened the door, careful not to let the hinges squeak. The room was filled with a dusky light from the darkening evening sky. Two lumps lay in the four-poster bed closest to her on the left, a third lump was curled up on a bed to the left of that. She tiptoed in between the two beds trying to see who was in them. Clasping a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle, Ginny saw Hermione on her side, with Ron behind her, a protective arm wrapped around the older witch’s middle.
Hermione’s eyes snapped open and her hand immediately produced her wand, pointed right at Ginny’s nose. She let out a slow breath as she recognized the younger witch, and lowered her wand. Then a slow blush crept up her face as she felt Ron’s arm around her. No wonder Ginny’s smirking at me, Hermione thought, somewhat embarrassed.
Ginny’s eyebrow arched up in mischief and her eyes gleamed in mirth. “So what are your intentions towards my brother Ms. Granger?” she whispered, teasing her best friend.
“Hypocrite!” Hermione quietly shot back. “I know you’re really here to be near Harry, who by the way, is like a brother to me.”
“Guilty as charged,” Ginny said a little more soberly. “I couldn’t sleep, though I’m tired enough to drop over.”
“So you thought a little closer proximity to Harry would help? Hmm?” Hermione said grinning. Her face sobered up though when she saw the anxious look on the younger girls face. “What’s the matter Ginny?”
“It’s just that…I don’t know if…we’ve been apart so long…what if he doesn’t…” Ginny’s shoulders slumped in frustration, as she chewed on her bottom lip to hide her mounting anxiety.
“You’re uncertain about whether Harry still has feelings for you? You think he might have moved on in the time you were apart?” Hermione asked, sympathetic to her friend’s uncertainty. “Trust me Ginny, he still has eyes for only you,” she said with a slight smirk.
“How can you know that? Did he tell you? Hermione please!” Ginny said in exasperation. “This is driving me insane! I want to tell him that I want us to get back together so much, but I’m afraid he’ll just push me away. I mean that’s what this whole collapse thing he had was about, isn’t it? He’s going to blame himself for things that aren’t his fault, and then to punish himself he’s going to deny himself happiness. And in his mind it will all make some kind of warped sense.”
Hermione glanced over Ginny’s shoulder, and her grin grew bigger as she listened to her friend rant on.
“I sometimes think the easiest solution is just to snog him senseless and then just tell the daft boy how deeply in love with him I am!”
Hermione was rolling on the bed laughing now.
“Hermione!” Ginny said incredulously. “This is serious! You have to help me! How do I get through to Harry?”
“I think you just did,” Harry said from behind her, sitting up in his bed with a look of absolute wonder on his face.
Ginny’s eyes about popped out of her head, causing Hermione to laugh so loud that she woke Ron. The youngest Weasley’s face was red enough it almost cast a scarlet glow in the darkening room. Slowly she turned around to gaze at the object of her desire and frustration.
He was wearing a clean t-shirt and pajama pants. His hair, longer than she could ever remember seeing it, was unruly from sleep. His face was thin, much too thin, and there were numerous cuts, bruises and burns on his face and arms. His beautiful bright green eyes however were fixed on her, and a look of sheer amazement was on his face.
They just stared at each other for what seemed like minutes, or hours, possibly several warm sun filled days. Hermione quietly led a still sleepy and confused Ron from the room, so that Harry and Ginny could have a little privacy. She was ecstatic for Harry. If anyone deserved to find happiness and love, it was Harry Potter. That it should come in the petite form of the one person who has loved for so long…well…that just made it more special, didn’t it?
Harry looked at Ginny as she stood in front of him. Her hair was damp from a recent shower, and smelled of flowers. It was a scent that had tortured his dreams at times over the past ten months. Her robe was open, revealing her light green summer weight pajamas. Her chocolate colored eyes were dark, and showed her hesitancy. Except for a scrape on her cheek and dark circles under her eyes, nothing had changed to mar her beauty. The light dusting of freckles on her cheeks and nose gave her an almost pixyish quality.
She was quite simply why he had opted to choose life over death. He still couldn’t believe he’d just heard her say…did she really say she was deeply in love with him? He’d woken up to Ginny’s voice teasing Hermione, but the mood had quickly changed. The next thing he knew Ginny was on a passionate rampage about him and ended it with telling Hermione…she really did say that! Merlin’s moldy left…will wonders never cease?
“Gin…erm,” Harry was a clearly flustered. “Is what you said…you know…true?” Harry’s eyes never strayed from Ginny’s face.
Her response was to nod her head yes and slowly walk up to him, crawl onto the bed, and bury her face in his neck, hugging him tightly. Her shoulders began shaking has she cried quietly. Harry’s arms wrapped around her, and he made gentle rubbing motions on her back, trying to comfort her. He never did well with crying girls, and he was glad that Ginny did not usually do so, but he certainly understood that these were not normal circumstances. Besides, with her it seemed different somehow. Rather than feeling uncertain and awkward, which is how he usually felt around crying girls, with her he felt a need to protect and comfort her. She was allowing him to see a very vulnerable side of her, a side she rarely showed anyone. He felt almost honored or privileged by her trust in him.
Gradually he felt her shaking stopped. He gently pulled her away from him and used the pad of his thumb to wipe away her tears. He cupped her face with both hands and placed a tender kiss on her lips then leaned his forehead against hers.
“Ginny, just so you know, I love you very much as well,” he said in a husky voice. “You have no idea how much I missed you. Everyday. Hermione can tell you that I was nutters. I was so desperate I would stare at your dot on the Marauder’s Map, just to have some idea of what you were doing.” He paused to just look into her mesmerizing bright brown eyes. “There’s so much I have to tell you, but I don’t think now is the right time. I swear you’re going to be the only one besides Ron and Hermione who knows the whole story, if that’s what you want. That’s how much I trust you. And for what it’s worth, I hoped and prayed that if I somehow survived all this, that you would want to get back together with me. Please tell me I heard you right?”
Ginny smiled warmly at him has fresh tears of happiness filled her eyes. “Yes Harry,” she said in a quiet, voice raw with emotion, “I want to be with you too, always.” She saw Harry’s face light up with unbridled joy, a look she was not sure she’d ever seen on him before. It was absolutely dead sexy on him, and she hoped that with all this behind him, it was a look that would be on his face more often.
“Harry,” she said quietly, her voice full of concern, “Are you feeling better? I mean, Ron and Hermione thought you might be blaming yourself for Fred and the others.”
“Gin I am so sorry about Fred,” he said, his voice full of anguish. “I don’t know, it just seems like I should have figured things out faster, you know?”
Ginny reached up a hand and gently caressed his cheek. “Harry, you can’t blame yourself for the deaths that Voldemort and his crazed followers caused. It took as long as it took. I certainly couldn’t have done it any faster, nor could anyone else. If it were easy, Dumbledore would have done it years ago.”
He’d never thought of it like that before. His hero and mentor had been fighting this battle since before he, Harry, was born. Dumbledore was a genius and the great wizard of his age. Harry was just a seventeen-year-old boy who hadn’t finished school. Yet he had overcome insurmountable obstacles and huge odds in finally defeating Tom Marvolo Riddle. A huge weight seemed to begin to slough off his shoulders as the realization of what Ginny said began to sink in.
Harry smiled down at her and pulled her to him, softly kissing her. The kiss grew more intense as the young couple clung to each other in an almost desperate embrace. Harry sought permission to deepen the kiss by brushing his tongue against Ginny’s lips and she willing allowed him access, as their bodies pressed closer to each other, each reveling in the physical contact.
Finally, when the need to breathe became a necessary compulsion, they broke apart, a little ways anyway, gasping for breath. Ginny leaned her head forward and rested it on Harry’s chest. Harry pulled her close to him wrapping his arms around her, intoxicated by her warmth and softness. He lay back slowly on to his pillow, pulling her down in the circle of his arms, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder. They lay there lost in their own thoughts until sleep claimed them both, peace and contentment gracing their faces.
Mr. and Mrs. Weasley quietly entered the room where their daughter and boyfriend lay sleeping. They had awoken and decided to check on Ginny only to find she was not in her room. It was Bill who told them where she might be found.
They saw Harry on his back, with one hand behind his head under his pillow, the other wrapped around Ginny’s back and shoulder. Ginny was on her side facing Harry, her head lay between Harry’s shoulder and chest. They noticed that the young couples breathing was slow and easy, and surprisingly in unison. The older couple looked on the younger one and smiled. It seemed that things had already begun to sort themselves out between these two. Both their daughter and Harry looked more at peace than they had seen from either of them in a long time.
It seemed a shame to wake them, but soon they would need to think about heading for home, and that meant making sure everyone was ready, including their adopted children. That was precisely how they thought of Harry and Hermione-as their own. They had become inextricably woven into the fabric of their family, and it looked like now both would become family in more than just thought someday. They could tell how things stood with their children; they recognized the signs and knew that Ginny and Ron had found their other halves. They had lost a son, but were gaining a second daughter and seventh son. It was more than they had reason to hope for just a few short days ago when they expected to lose so much more. Mrs. Weasley moved to gently shake her daughter awake…
Harry was dreaming, he knew it, but what a dream it was. Ginny was right next to him, her body radiating warmth along his side. He could tell it was lighter out by the brightness against his closed eyes, but he was reluctant to open them for fear that the dream would end. Ginny’s head was a pleasant weight buried into his side and shoulder, her soft breathing a tranquil sound that kept his nightmares at bay.
He felt her suddenly stiffen and the tranquility was replaced by lightening fast reflexes as he threw himself over Ginny and pointed his wand at a face framed in graying red hair. He quickly realized he was staring into the faces of a very surprised Molly and Arthur Weasley.
“Easy son,” Mr. Weasley said, his hands held up in a nonthreatening fashion. “We just came to wake you two up.”
“Sorry Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said sheepishly as he hastily lowered his wand. A squawk of protest came from under him and he hastily jumped up, revealing a very startled and disheveled Ginny.
Still disoriented from the abrupt manner in which she was awaken, Ginny sat up to see her parents looking at the two of them with something akin to smirks on their faces. Harry’s face was showing his utter mortification at being caught in bed by her mum and dad.
She could tell by the looks on their faces that she and Harry were not in trouble, but the situation was just good to pass up. “Mum, Dad, do you suppose that instead of maiming Harry, or worse, giving him to the boys to torture, you could settle for just withering his bits or transfiguring his face into a frog,” her eyes twinkled in mischief as she winked at her parents to play along.
Harry wavered from incredulous at Ginny’s attitude to down right scared at what her family would do to him. Molly’s screwed her face into a parody of sternness and anger, “Harry James Potter!” she yelled, trying to suppress her mirth. “Just what do you mean by luring my daughter up here and into your bed?”
Harry spluttered in protest as he tried to think of an answer. What happened next he wasn’t prepared for; all three Weasley’s started howling with laughter. As he stood there dumb struck by this totally inappropriate behavior, he realized he felt sort of cheated. He’d done a fair job of getting worked up and was really ready to panic and here they were laughing at him. His expression changed from one of fear to being quite put out. That only served to make them laugh harder.
Eventually their mirth subsided. Molly walked around the bed and gave him a warm motherly hug. “Oh Harry dear, I’m so awfully glad you’re okay. I’m sure Ginny has probably already told you, but I want to make sure you hear it again. You are not to blame for any of the innocent people hurt or killed. That vile evil man and his disgusting henchmen are the only one to blame. Do you understand Harry?” she said as she took his face between her hands and held it so that he had to look her in the eyes.
“Yes Mrs. Weasley,” Harry replied, somewhat flustered at her attention. “Ginny actually already sort of convinced me, but it’s good to know you feel that way too.”
“Yes, well see that you don’t forget it,” Molly replied smiling warmly back at him.
“All right you two,” Mr. Weasley chimed in, “You need to get dressed for the day. We need to grab a bite and then talk to Minerva about arrangements for Fred. It looks as if he will be buried on the grounds with others as part of a memorial to those who fell during the battle here at the school.”
Harry could see the effort Mr. and Mrs. Weasley put into staying strong for their children and what it was costing them. He admired the strength and courage. “I think it’s a brilliant idea,” he said, trying to emulate their strength.
Arthur and Molly just smiled at him and moved back towards the door, making their way back down to the common room.
Harry looked over to Ginny, and saw she looked sad, her eyes staring blankly ahead. “You okay Gin?” he asked as he moved to wrap his arms around her, his head resting on the top of hers.
“Do you suppose we’ll ever return to normal after all of this?” she asked. Harry could tell she was feeling vulnerable again. The discussion of Fred’s memorial making his death seem more real to her.
He didn’t answer her right away, but rather considered her question carefully. He got the sense that his answer was important to her somehow. When he finally did respond it was in a quite but confident manner, “I imagine over time we’ll get back to normal, what ever that is. It’s funny, but the one thought that ran through my mind in the moments just after I defeated Voldemort was that now there will be time. It’s what I’ve never had until now. And now I get to spend all this hard won time with you.”
“You’re a lucky man Harry Potter,” Ginny teased.
He smiled at her, “Yes I am Miss Weasley,” and he placed a less than platonic kiss on her lips. He grinned at the beautiful woman in front of him. “I most certainly am.”
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