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SIYE Time:13:39 on 28th March 2024
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Come What May
By heart_of_a_lion

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Category: Post-OotP
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley
Genres: Angst, Fluff, General
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 9
Summary: Harry's friends promised, when he left King's Cross with the Dursleys, that they would see him soon. Did they live up to their promise, and was it worth his wait if they did? Ron and Hermione's relationship seems to evolve, leaving Harry out of everything. But will he mind? Will a certain girl with flaming hair be his undoing, or help him deal with the death of his godfather? Find out here. Ron mysteriously comes up with the money to buy things he had never in his life been able to purchase. Where is Ron getting these Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts?
Hitcount: Story Total: 5234







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~*~“We’ll have you away from there as soon as we can,” Mrs. Weasley whispered, hugging him again.

“We’ll see you soon, mate,” said Ron anxiously, shaking Harry’s hand.

“Really soon, Harry,” said Hermione earnestly. “We promise.”~*~

The memory of that day gave Harry hope over the three days he was with his wretched relatives. He couldn’t wait to get out of there, but he expected that when they had said “as soon as we can” and “Really soon,” they had meant in a few weeks or months. He sighed, sprawled out on the dewy sun kissed grass on that early June morning. Normally he wasn’t allowed to read his Hogwarts school books at the Dursleys, but now that a bunch of Wizards and Witches had threatened the muggles, he was permitted to. And so he did, lying on his stomach with his head inclined, he peered at the many pages of Hogwarts, A History. Yes, he had finally gotten tired of Hermione’s nagging and had begun to read the book because, for some strange reason, she thought it would be prudent. It was, in fact, rather interesting, though he didn’t take to memorize it as his best friend probably had. As he was getting into the chapter on the charms that disallow people to Apparate on Hogwarts grounds, he heard Petunia’s screaching voice.

“Harry, you have a phone call,” she yelled out the open window in the kitchen. He stood up abruptly and sprinted for the house.

“Who is it?” he asked urgently.

“A young lady; says her name is — oh, what was it — Hermione Granger. What a beautiful name. She probably isn’t your kind, though, is she? Why then, praytell, would she be ringing you?”

“Her parents are muggles; dentists, I think. She has a ‘beautiful name’ because they never knew what she was until she got her letter at eleven,” Harry informed her absently. As an after thought, he added, “Did she say why she was calling?”

“No. Just that it was of grave importance.” Leave it to Hermione to charm the muggles, Harry thought wryly. Picking up the receiver, he pulled it, along with it’s long, curly cord, into the next room and spoke quietly into it.

“Hello? Hermione?”

“Harry! It’s so good to hear your voice! It’s been ages since we’ve talked!” She sounded strangely happy and happy to talk to him.

“Hermione,” he argued incredulously, “it’s only been three days.”

“Has it?” she answer, seemingly surprised. “Hmm. Well, Ron wants me to tell you that, if you want, we can come to pick you up and take you to the burrow tomorrow.”

“What do you mean, if I want? Of course I want to get out of this place. I’m packing as we speak.” And that he was, reaching for the cupboard that was normally padlocked, but not this year, filled to bursting with his Hogwarts possessions.

“Alright, then. We’ll be ‘round about eleven or so. Is that too early?”

“No time’s too early to get away from the Dursleys,” Harry grumbled, stuffing his trunk with his Firebolt. After a long pause, he questioned, “Hey, wait a minute! What do you mean ‘we?’ Are you there with Ron?”

“Yes,” replied Hermione sheepishly.

“What’s going on between you two, anyway?”

“Oh, Harry, nothing at all. I want there to be, but he doesn’t fancy me. He probably likes Luna or Lavender or Parvati. Maybe even Padma. We have spent loads of time together: picking wildflower down by the meadow, sleeping outside under the stars and mapping out constellations. It’s been fun. More fun than I’ve ever had with Ron; we haven’t had an acrimonious squabble even once. It must be a record or something.”

“Probably. But why haven’t you told me that you have a crush on Ron? Better yet, why haven’t you told him?”

“Oh, Harry, don’t you listen? He doesn’t return my feeling so I am not going to confess my undying love for him. Sorry to disappoint you.” She rolled her eyes on the other end of the phone line.

“Yes he does. He always has.”

“Has he told you that?”

“No, but anyone not blinded by an intense infatuation for him would notice that his — and your, not to mention — constant squabbling is a way in flirting.”

“It is?” she asked, perplexed.

“In this case. Honestly, Herm. You’re one of the cleverest witches I know, but you know absolutely nothing about boys.”

“Oh, that’s true. So you reckon I should tell him, then?”

“Yeah. And if you don’t I’ll just have to convince him to tell you.”

“D’you think you could? It would be so much easier!”

“Some Gryffindor you are.”

“Oh, you know it’s not because I’m afraid.” Harry made a ticking noise. “I’m just afraid that he might reject me, that’s all.”

“You’re still afraid.”

“I suppose so. Alright. But maybe something will happen and neither of us will have to tell each other. Maybe it’ll all just come together.” She sounded hopeful, which was completely out of character for her. Harry had never had a conversation quite like this with Hermione before.

“Right. Maybe so, but I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

“Since when have I been late for things?”

“Never. See you, Herm.”

“Bye.” He hung up the phone. Dragging the trunk up to his bedroom to pack his clothes, he couldn’t help singing, “I knew it, I knew it, I knew it” over and over again under his breath.

By nightfall, though, he was singing a different tune (pun intended, of course). A myriad of thoughts traced across his mind as he awaited sleep that never came. What if Harry had been wrong and Ron really didn’t fancy Hermione? She’d be crushed. What if he did, but neither of them had enough sense to bring it all out in the open? What if they did get together; how would life around them change? Would they spend every Hogsmede Weekend in the coffee shop he and Cho had their row in? Would they be asking to borrow his invisibility cloak so that they can sneak off alone together undetected? Would they kiss each other and call each other by pet names in front of him? What if they didn’t want him around at all once they got together? Worry and woe was pretty much all Harry knew. Would he have to face Voldemort alone? And, if so, was that a good thing?

Warm sunlight tickled his face as an all-too-familiar triple-decker, insanely purple bus pulled up the drive of # 4 Privet Drive. Hermione’s head popped up from a seat and could bee viewed through the windows as she made her way up the isle to the door. She was smiling, the elated and contented smile he had only seen her wear on the day he and Ron had rescued her from that troll. This one was even different than the one she smiled when she got a difficult question right, but not much. Harry couldn’t help but think there were wheels turning in that brilliant head of hers. She was scary when she was like that, Harry decided.

Boarding the bus, Harry hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at her. Sitting in a seat near Ron and her, who were sitting together, he looked around to notice that they were the only ones on the bus. Peering at his two friends, he searched for differences. It was the same Hermione, with her wild brown hair that had only cooperated once and her chocolate brown eyes that were even darker than Ron’s. Ron still had his crimson locks and mahogany eyes, but with nicer clothes. He must have went shopping, Harry assumed, it was probably Fred and George who helped him pay for it. Hermione was clad in a light-weight sky-blue traveling cloak and a white sun dress with light pink, purple, yellow, and blue flowers embroidered along the bottom. Her hair was clipped back partially on either side of her head to keep it out of her eyes, a rare sight to see indeed; she never did anything with her hair unless it was an exceedingly special occasion. Ron wore a light-weight cloak too, which was odd as it was summer but without it he would be confused with a muggle, midnight blue in color. He wore a matching t-shirt with gold shooting stars embroidered along the bottom of it like Hermone’s dress. Ron had never been one to wear shorts, so he chose instead some thin cotton trousers that were a whitish color. They were the same teenagers all right, but now their dress and demeanor had changed. Harry felt rather foolish dressed in khaki muggle shorts and a green shirt, but he didn’t care now that he saw his friends. The Dursleys, having to be kind to him this summer, had refused to take him out in his regular old ratty, five-sizes-too-big or small clothes. The result was an entirely new wardrobe of strange clothing supposedly worn by boys in the non-wizarding world. True, it had only been four days, but they were different from the last time he saw them as night and day.

“Nice touch with the hair clips, Herm. I’ve only once seen you try to tame that mane of yours.” Harry examined her accessories more closely. Silver — what looked like real silver — combs with flowers along the part that was showing dusted with diamond shavings. He reckoned her mother and father had given them to her as an early birthday present, as she would not see them over the summer.

“Oh,” she blushed for the first time ever, but only slightly, “Ron gave them to me. He wanted me to wear them today with the sun dress we picked out in a muggle shop.”

“But Ron,” he turned to his best mate, “How did you come up with the money for it?”

He shrugged, an ever-so-slightly embarrassed look on his face, “I can manage, don’t worry, Harry.”

“Now that you mention it, Harry, Ron did sort of worry me about that. He won’t tell me how exactly he can ‘manage.’” She sighed, eyeing him curiously.

“I can’t tell you quite yet. Doesn’t matter now, anyway. For a while I’ll be able to afford almost anything I want. Ginny can, now, too.”

Hermione grinned warmly, “Well it was sweet of you to think of me.” she leaned over and kissed him softly on the cheek. Ron sucked in a long, shaky breath.

“So,” Harry began, changing the subject as not to upset this delicate situation, “What have you two been up to lately?”

“Not much,” Ron answered, catching Hermione’s eye, both of them grinning like mad.

“Right, then. Finish your homework, Hermione? Could I copy, I’m having trouble with my vampire essay.”

“Harry, I haven’t finished mine either. Ron and I have been having too much fun to pay attention to schoolwork.” His mouth fell open of it’s own accord.

“Are you telling me that you, Hermione Jane ‘Know-it-all’ Granger, haven’t finished your homework after three whole days of having it assigned? I expected you to have it done two hours after you got off the Hogwarts Express!”

“I know, Harry, but I’ve been busy.”

“Busy!”

“Well, she can take a break every now and then, can’t she?” Ron challenged.

“Yes, but . . . . she’s supposed to be the clever one!”

“She is.”

“Don’t say that, Ron. You’re just as clever as I am, just not as well-read.”

“Nah.” He smoothed her hair where it had feathered out on the side nearest him in the soft summer breeze. They looked, googly-eyed, at one another.

Once again Harry changed the subject, “Why are we taking the night bus in the middle of the day?”

“Just because it’s a night bus, doesn’t mean it can’t run in the daytime,” replied Ron distractedly.

“That makes entirely no sense!” exclaimed Harry.

“Mm-Hmm.” Ron and Hermione still gazed at each other with an intensely passionate stare, which, in Harry’s opinion, was maddeningly sickening.

“I give up!” Pulling out a book, he began to read. Now I know how Hermione feels, he thought; well, not exactly.

The breaks squealed as the bus came to a halt. The Burrow now was looming into view, all of it’s dodgy rooms looking even more so than before. Harry stood up, but Hermione and Ron seemed to be in a trance.

“Coming?!” he barked irritably. They both nodded extremely slowly and rose.

In the kitchen Mrs. Weasley was baking a rich chocolate cake, causing the intoxicating aroma of sweetness to fill the whole house. Too much sweetness is bad for a person, and Hermione and Ron were disgustingly sweet enough for Harry’s tastes. He did not comment, however, but found himself being embraced by a lanky, gangly redhead smiling energetically.

“Hey Harry! It’s great to see you; my goodness, you’ve changed so much!”

“It’s only been four days,” he reminded her.

“Yes, well, you know . . . . Hey! Wanna’ help me feed the chickens? It’ll be fun.”

He glanced contemptuously at Hermione and Ron, “Yeah, Ginny, I’d love to.”

They exited. “Sorry about that Harry, it’s been killing me the way those two are going at it!”

“Oh, trust me, I know!”

“Doesn’t it make you feel like you’re going to loose you lunch?”

“That’s exactly how it makes me feel. Your brother is a bit of a . . . . . I don’t even know what the word for it is.”

“Prat? Git? Loser? A right little wanker?” she offered.

“Uh . . . . . something like that, yeah.”

“Hermione’s not helping, either. Did you know that she’s wearing his hair combs? Since when does she wear anything in her hair that doesn’t get stuck there?!”

“I know! And Ron! He is acting strangely. He’s actually dressing normally, which is scary. It’s just not him. Or is it? Maybe he’s just expressing himself now that he’s got money.”

“Yeah. He and I have money now. Not enough to share with Mum and Dad, but enough to last us well until we graduate from Hogwarts and find real jobs.”

“So it is a job that’s supplying him?”

“Not — exactly,” she said slowly.

“Than what is it?”

“Well . . . . . . . .”

“Come on, Ginny, you can tell me. We’re friends.”

“We are?” she looked stunned, as she was.

“Yes. Friends tell each other things.”

“It’s rather a long story.”

“I have all summer.”

“Ok. It started the day after Hogwarts. A man from the ministry came to our door and asked to see Ron and I. He told us that Dad had informed him of our money problem and that he didn’t know how we were going to afford to finish off our schooling. The man proceeded to inform us of an Auror study deal that we could take. They are looking for recruits. No one wants to be one now that Voldemort is about somewhere so they really can’t find anyone. The deal he made us gave us five galleons, two sickles, and four knuts a week. In exchange for this, we signed up to be Aurors after going through a few IQ tests and ‘What would you do if’ tests. We both passed, so we both get funding until we graduate. It’s like a scholarship.”

“Ah.”

“But the catch was, we couldn’t tell Mum and Dad about it. They still give us two knuts a week for allowance. I feel bad about not telling them, but it’s probably for the best. Mum would be having kittens until the end of seventh year. She wouldn’t want us being Aurors because it’s a dangerous task. Besides, Mum is a very proud person. She would never let us accept assistance.”

“Well . . . . I thought you had to have special training to be an Auror?”

“You do and we will. Just as soon as we graduate.”

“I want to be an Auror.”

“No you don’t. You’ll play professional Quidditch someday. Hermione would make a good one.”

“So would I.” Harry was getting a bit angry with her for not thinking he could do it.

“I know how much you love quidditch,” she went on, “We wouldn’t want you to give up your dream job.”

“What if it’s not my dream job? What if I really want to be an Auror? Did that thought ever cross your mind? What if I figure that if I have to fight evil forces, like Voldemort and his followers, that I might as well get trained up a bit and make a career of it? Huh? What do you have to say about that Ginny?”She looked close to tears, his expression softened from anger to self-resentment.

“I was just trying to be helpful,” Ginny said, her voice cracking a bit and even more high pitched than usual.

“I know you were, Ginny, I know you were. I’m sorry I snapped at you. I’m having a really hard day — what with Hermione and Ron being all weird and stuff — but I just really want to be one like my Mum and Dad were. I –”

“Ginevra Molly Weasley! Come here this instant!” Mr. Weasley was a bit cross about something. Harry stopped speaking and looked defeated.

Looking around, Ginny replied in a hushed and hurried voice, as if there were someone watching, “Listen, Harry. If you want to be one, I’ll help you. Tell Hermione as well, but I reckon she’d want to be a professor or a librarian, maybe an intelligence agent, I’m not sure. I gotta’ go. I think I forgot to do my chores in all the excitement.” She walked back to the house, but he followed.

An hour later Mrs. Weasley’s cake had cooled. “Who wants to frost the cake for me? The neighbors down the road need me to come over and watch their daughter, Vanessa, while they are at Diagon Alley for a few hours.”

Like a lot of overly-excited children, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harry raised their hands and jumped up and down. “Alright then. But I think it’d be easier if —” She waved her wand and the yard-width cake split into two halves. “Ginny, Harry, you two work on that one” — she pointed to one — “and Hermione and Ron, work on the other.”

And so they did. Laughing and mucking about, Hermione and Ron proceeded to throw flower all over each other, Whilst Ginny and Harry chased each other around the kitchen with chocolate icing, trying to get it on one another. At the end they were a mess, but the cakes were looking picturesque and decorative. Ginny had frosting in her hair and a line of it smeared along her chin; Harry had some on his nose and all along his neck. Hermione and Rn looked like a couple of old dust bunnies. Deciding they had better get cleaned up, they decided to fill a hole, that was in the middle of the yard for some unknown reason, with water and take a dip.

They splashed and flailed around in the pond, having more fun than they had had all summer. Though, that could have been just because it had only started three or four days prior. It was a humid day, and the cool water felt good on their perspiring skin. Mrs. Weasley would be home soon, so, reluctantly, they exited the pool and began to dry off. Their clothes clung to their sopping bodies, Harry’s sodden hair made him looked like a wet dog that had just come out of the rain. Ginny reached over and pushed his hair out of the face.

“You’re all wet, Harry,” she murmured, giggling softly as he closed his eyes to her touch.

“Hey, Gin, what are you doing to him?” Ron asked, in mock curiosity. She hit him playfully on the arm, half-tempted to do it harder. Poor Harry and Ginny, never a moment’s peace.

Dinner was a festive affair, but everyone seemed to have settled into their own little groups. Hermione and Ron were still leering at each other, Mister and Misses Weasley were discussing Charlie’s work with Dragons in Romania. Being the only ones left, Ginny and Harry started to talk about Quidditch. Once they had finished eating, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harry headed off to Ron’s room to talk. Their behavior did not stray from that of earlier, Harry and Ginny wondered wryly how long Hermione and Ron could stare at each other in that way before one of them cracked.

“Would you two just tell each other you like the other one and get it over with?!” That was Ginny, but one would have expected it to be Harry who cracked. Not demure, quiet (maybe not quiet), sweet little Ginny.

Hermione, disdainful and stunned, answered, “Ginny, Ron doesn’t like me.”

“Yes he does.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Yes he does.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Yes he does.”

“No he ruddy well does not!” Hermione spat bitterly, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Fine,” resigned Ginny slyly, narrowing her eyes, “but I didn’t hear you say that you don’t like him.”

“Well—well—well-well of course I like Ron, he’s a good friend,” she faltered.

“You know I meant that you fancy him.”

“Who’s to say I don’t, hmm? Who’s to say? It matters not, because he doesn’t care for me in that way.”

“Yes he does.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Yes he does.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“Yes he does,” Ron finally stated. “Yes he does, Hermione, yes he does.”

Hermione was quiet for so long they had suspected she had lost her voice. Then she spoke, “Do you always refer to yourself in the third person, Ron, or did you just pick that habit up?”

“‘Mione, why be difficult?”

She quivered at his words. “I told you, Ron, I told you.” She shuddered an almighty shudder and looked either enraged or scared; either way, she looked disbelieving and also frightening.

“Told him what, Herm?” asked Harry.

“I told you, Ron,” went on Hermione, ignoring Harry, “I told you not to call me that unless . . . . I said that no one was to call me that unless they fancied me, that’s how I’d know. Don’t play around with this, it’s not a game.”

“When’d you tell him that?” inquired Harry, puzzled. Ginny just watched on, detached from the situation. She was torn three ways, between Laughing, saying “awe! That’s so sweet,” and being disgusted for the reason that it was her brother in front of her talking to her best friend.

Ron, too, ignored Harry, “I’m not playing, ‘Mione. Trust me. I just haven’t been able to tell you, that’s all.”

“No.” Hermione shook her head feverishly, “No, it’s not true. No.”

“Yes,” insisted Ron, oddly composed considering the circumstances.


“Really?”

“Have I ever joked about something like that with you?”

“No.” He flipped his palms over in midair as if to say, there you have it.

“I like you too, Ron.” She hugged him. This hug was different, more heartfelt and sweet. Ginny almost cried, Harry looked thunderstruck. Great, thought Harry, just what we need now.

Bedtime came, it was a welcome thing for Harry. Hermione set off toward Ginny’s room and Harry followed Ginny out too, leaving Ron alone to fathom the ways of Hogwarts’ own know-it-all. She wasn’t so insufferable at all, Ron decided.

Instead of brushing his teeth and joining Ron in his room, Harry accepted Ginny’s invitation to spend a night stargazing, as neither of them wanted to room with a couple of lovesick puppies.

Stars twinkled in their places even more brilliantly than they did on other occasions as the two settled into their sleeping bags. Miss Weasley seemed very interested in the patterns the stars made as she pointed each out to Harry.

“See, Harry,” she pointed to a cluster of them high above, “That’s the Big Dipper. And there, there’s the Little Dipper.” He nodded, feeling peaceful and alive for once, like amicability had infested his inner being. She pointed to a different one then. “That one there is the Great Dog constellation. The brightest star in it is Sirius, that’s why they call it the Wishing Star; it’s the first star some people see at night — since it’s the brightest — and some call it the Dog Star. I think it’s relevant.” She heard him give a great, wet sob. Harry had never cried in front of anyone before. Ginny glanced over to see tears in his green eyes, shining as brightly as the stars above.

“I’m so sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to dredge up things from the past.” She turned to face him.

“No,” he gave a lamented sigh. “Where is it again?”

It was her turn to sigh, but she indicated the spot once more. “Yonder.”

“Thanks, Ginny. You know, I feel really foolish, crying like this in front of you. I never wanted that.”

“Don’t, Harry,” She grabbed his hand. “I don’t think you’re foolish at all. You are a sensitive person. You have a good heart and you are the most noble person I know. Sirius would be proud of you, I’m sure of it. Gallant and true, you are perfect.”

“Perfect,” he snorted unbelievingly, “That’s me, alright. Perfect.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, and she knew it but didn’t like it, all the same.

“You are perfect, Harry. I’ve always thought so. Who was the one who came rushing to my rescue in the Chamber of Secrets? Who was the one to give Fred and George the money he worked so hard to earn in that Triwizard Tournament? Who jumped every hurdle he had to to get to the Department of Mysteries when he thought Sirius was in trouble?”

“Yeah, but by doing so I really did get him into trouble.”

“I’m not done.” She pushed the hair out of her eyes and continued. “Who battled the Basilisk? Who escaped death by Voldemort thrice? Wait, no, four times!?”

“Was it four?”

“Yes, harry, it was four. Once in first year — don’t think I don’t know — once in second, once in fourth, and a few weeks ago. I could go on and on about this kind of thing, but who did all of that stuff?” Her eyes bore holes into him as she waited tentatively.

“I did,” he replied quietly.

“That’s right, and don’t you forget it, Harry. You’re a hero and you should be treated that way.” He looked away, unable to stare into her fervent mahogany eyes any longer. “I see the way people treat you. Some run from you, some want to be around you just because you’re famous, and some do both alternately. You don’t deserve that.”

“I don’t deserve your pity.” Solemn and downcast as he was, she longed to kiss his worries away.

“I don’t pity you. I care about you, and with that comes the need for you to be happy.”

“I am happy,” he denied.

“You’re sad and lonely, you’re distant and you feel like there’s no one in the world that understands,” she countered.

“I’m happy when I’m with you.”

“Me? Nah. I just want to help you.”

“You have.” Harry let go of Ginny’s hand to bring his around her tiny face and kissed her tenderly. She kissed him back, even more tenderly. She tasted like chocolate, a comforting thought and something to remember as he pulled away.

“Sorry. I got caught up in the —” he had started to explain to her, but was cut off when she closed the gap between them once more. He hesitated for just a minute, but then pulled her closer to him. “I think I love you Ginny,” he whispered, their foreheads touching as they breathlessly looked deep into each other’s eyes.

“I know I love you, Harry,” she whispered back.

“You don’t think I’m being too forward? I don’t want to scare you.”

“No, harry. I’ve been waiting for you.” They fell asleep huddled together beneath the midnight sky. Voldemort was nothing as long as Harry had someone to be there for him. Even if his two best friends were inevitably going to always be off together, he would still have someone. Come what may, he thought as sleep approached. “Come what may,” he whispered aloud, Ginny slumbering happily against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her protectively and joined her in the land of dreams.
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