Harry couldn't remember when he'd ever slept so long. It was the first time in a long time that he had been able to fully rejuvenate himself without interruption. No need for taking watch in shifts in fear of being found out. No need for sleepless nights while the impending reminder of horcruxes consumed him. That was all over now, and he couldn't be more relieved.
Now awake, Harry rolled over on the pallet that he had made on the floor of Ron's room and stared up at the ceiling. He could hear Ron snoring above him and was surprised that it hadn't woken him up once during the night. Smiling lightly at the familiar sound, Harry sat up slowly. His whole body felt as though it had been hit with a wrecking ball, and his smile turned into a wince. The blankets that had been covering his chest tumbled down into a heap in his lap as he turned his body to pat blindly on the bedside table behind him for his glasses. When he finally located them, he slipped them on and untangled his legs from the blankets before standing and making sure to tread softly while leaving the room. Not that he thought Ron would be awakened by a few creaking floorboards, but one never knew. The entire house was quiet, Harry noticed, as he stepped out into the hallway. Even though Ron's room was on one of the highest floors in the house, they could always hear the goings on down below. Now, Harry was fairly certain he would be able to hear a pin drop. Well, had Ron's snoring been silenced, anyhow. Judging by the noise, or lack thereof, he would swear that he was the first one up which was quite unusual.
However, when he stepped into the kitchen he saw an all-too familiar body standing at the counter making a pot of tea. Harry hadn't been able to take a closer look at Ginny since the battle at Hogwarts, but he could only image the kind of beating her own body had taken. She had fought along side them, despite what her family and Harry had said. She had almost died as well, a thought that will probably stay with Harry for the rest of his life. He was certain that if Mrs. Weasley hadn't done in with Bellatrix, he would have. And it wouldn't have just been for Ginny's sake. It would have been for Sirius's and Neville's sakes as well. She'd ruined Neville's life, after all, and ripped Sirius's from him all together. She deserved exactly what she got.
Ginny turned around just then and started at the sight of Harry standing in the doorway.
"Oh! Harry, I had no idea you were there." She smiled lightly and walked over to the kitchen to set the tea kettle down. "Come and have a cup of tea," she said as she grabbed two cups from the cupboard. He made his way over and slid into a seat, watching her as she took the one across from him. She poured tea in both cups and slid one over to him, then stirred about a scoopful of sugar into hers before taking a sip. They were both quiet for a moment, and in this time, Harry was able to really assess her. He noticed scrapes and bruises here and there, but nothing that looked too serious. Dragging hi gaze to her face, he noticed the dark circles immediately. He was curious as to how she hadn't been getting sleep; he figured she would be just as exhausted as everyone else from the fight and therefore be sleeping like a baby now that she knew all was well. But apparently, there was a lot going on in Ginny Weasley's mind that made her unable to sleep at night. His eyes moved further up and caught her gaze, and he blinked. "Do I really look that awful?" she asked softly.
"What? No, of course not," he said hurriedly, but she was already shaking her head.
"It's okay, Harry. I can only guess how awful I look. If I look half as awful as I feel, then it's perfectly understandable that you would be looking at me the way you just were."
Harry hadn't been aware that he had been looking at Ginny in any certain way, but he immediately averted his gaze, looking down into his tea cup instead. Another silence rested between them. He was unsure what to say. Whatever was on her mind had to be recent, and he didn't suppose she wanted to talk about it just yet. More than likely, it was about the loss the Weasley family had just suffered. He, himself, was trying to not think about it so much. He was trying not to think about all the tragedies that had hit him in just a short amount of time, and all of the responsibility he was now left with; he still wasn't sure how he was going to manage raising a baby, and on his own no less. He wished it were possible to stop time, just for a little while, so he could sort everything out.
"I miss him," Ginny said suddenly, yet softly, and broke Harry from his reverie. He looked back up at her, but saw that she was staring off at the wall behind him. He could tell that she was trying to keep it together, but he also noticed the struggle she was having with keeping the tears back. "Fred," she said, as if to clarify, but Harry knew perfectly well who she was talking about. "He and George always knew how to cheer me up. They were rarely serious about anything." She gave a sniffle and finally met his gaze. "Sometimes that was frustrating, but it's how they were, so everyone just learned to accept it." She paused to take a sip of her tea, and Harry noticed that her hand was trembling. He wanted to reach over to take it in his, and comfort her, but he resisted. He decided it was probably best to just listen for now, and that's exactly what he did when she continued. "George is taking it the hardest, I think. I can't even begin to imagine what it would be like, losing a twin. It's hard enough when he's your brother, but to be connected to him in a way that no one else can be?" She shook her head, and looked towards the stairs now, as if she were looking up to George's room. "He's not been the same. No one has, really," she added, looking over at him once again. "You seem to have a lot weighing on you as well, Harry." When he said nothing, she pressed on. "Don't let me hog all of the spotlight." She smiled a little. "Spill."
Harry didn't know where to begin. He didn't see the point in mentioned all of the death and destruction; Ginny knew all about that. They were just now taking a toll on him, mentally, now that he was able to actually stop and think about everything that had happened in the past few months. But he didn't want to burden Ginny with any of those morose thoughts; she had enough depression to deal with as it was. So he settled for the thing that was currently weighing him down the most.
"I'm a father now," he said, then, noticing the look on Ginny's face – a look of confusion and utter shock – he quickly added, "What I mean, is that Remus and Tonks named me Godfather of their child. And now they're both…er…gone and now I've got a kid to take care of." His eyes slid shut briefly and he sighed. "I don't know what I'm going to do, Ginny."
"Well," she started slowly, and Harrys eyes popped open when he felt her fingers on the back of his hand. "Perhaps I could help you. All of us," she added quickly. "You know, mum's raised seven of us. Plus dad," she said with a grin. "I'm sure he could count. But I'm sure everything will be fine."
Harry nodded at this, but still wasn't convinced. "Tonk's mother has him now He's the last piece of her family that she has; I'm not certain she'll give him up easily anyway. Maybe…" he started, but paused, wondering how terrible Ginny would think he was if he were to finish his thought. "Maybe I should just let her take care of him," he finished finally, and then looked down into his tea cup again. Harry had been unaware that Ginny still had a hold of his hand until she gave it a gentle squeeze. "I don't want him completely out of my life," he said, desperate to make himself sound like less of a git. "I want to see him. I want to buy him what he needs. But I don't know that I can be his sole provider and caretaker. I'm only seventeen." Oh, but he felt years older. It was almost as if Ginny could read his thoughts, because she said,
"But you don't act seventeen. You're mature, and you're responsible and you have a good head on your shoulders. I believe whole-heartedly that you could take this on and do just fine." Harry stared at her, searched her gaze and wondered how she had so much faith in him. Defeating the darkest wizard of all time had been hard and very trying, and there were plenty of moments where he had doubted himself and his ability to stay alive and keep everyone he loved safe and out of harms way. He wondered how similar raising a child would be. He would be sure to ask Mrs. Weasley later.
Once again, Harry was ripped from his thoughts by a loud yawn. He looked over just in time to see Ron walking in, bleary eyed and hair looking incredibly mussed. Absently, Harry raised a hand to his own hair, knowing that Ron's hair couldn't possibly hold a candle to his own. Ron looked over at the pair of them sitting at the table, and his eyes wandered down to their joined hands. He gave a grunt, and turned to grab a cup from the cupboard, and while his back was turned, Harry and Ginny both let go of each other, Ginny busying herself with stirring her tea, and Harry trying in vane to flatten his hair. When Ron turned, he sat down in a chair next to Ginny and reached past her for the tea pot. She rolled her eyes and said, "You could have asked for me to pass it, you know." He merely gave another grunt and poured his tea. The corners of Harry's mouth twitched at the look that Ginny had shot Ron, who seemed to be completely oblivious to anything that wasn't his tea.
This is, until Hermione stepped into the room.
"'Morning," she greeted them through a yawn and a stretch, and they all looked over at her. From the corner of his eye, Harry noticed Ron sit a little straighter in his chair. He pursed his lips together and looked across the table at Ginny, who was also trying to smother a smile.
"Hermione," Ginny started, now taking a closer look at Hermione, "is…that Ron's shirt?" Ron, having just taken a drink from his cup, choked a little on the tea and looked over at her as well. Hermione's cheeks turned scarlet and she opened her mouth, possibly to explain the situation, but Harry spoke up instead.
"You know, it looks quite nice outside. Perhaps I'll, er…take a walk or something." He gave Ginny a pointed look, and she bit down on her lower lip, smiling lightly.
"Yes, I think a walk does sound rather nice. Let me just run up and grab a sweater, and I'll go with you." Without waiting for an answer, Ginny stood from the table and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.
"Uhm," Hermione said at first, then cleared her throat. "Mrs. Weasley gave it to me to sleep in. Ginny and I are different sizes after all, and she figured that something a big larger would be more comfortable." Ron's ears had gone red by this time, and he looked Hermione up and down. Harry wished more than ever that Ginny would hurry up. He would like to not be present for another Ron and Hermione snog session.
"So," he said loudly, to break whatever tension that had begun building in the room. "Did you both sleep well?" They both seemed glad for the topic change, because Ron faced him now, and Hermione dug another tea cup from the cupboard.
"Yeah, I did," said Ron. "What about you? I know you've slept on the floor loads of times, but still, it can't be all the comfortable."
Harry shrugged. "I didn't notice it at all, really. I was just happy to be able to sleep uninterrupted." Ron nodded his head in agreement to this and Hermione joined them at the table.
"Could you please pass the tea?" she asked Ron. Then, she turned to Harry and said, "You should take the couch in the den tonight. I'm sure it'll be more comfortable." She took the tea kettle that Ron had passed to her and poured some into her cup.
"No, you keep the couch. The floor is fine, really."
"I'm just saying that it can't feel too good after everything you've been through."
"Hermione, you went through most of the same stuff that I did. Plus, I slept in a cupboard for a good part of my life. The floor is really no big deal."
She opened her mouth to argue more, but Ron cut her off.
"Hermione, if he wants to sleep on the floor, then let him." Harry looked over at him and smiled a little, and Ron gave him a nod of understanding in return, and Hermione, catching the exchange, merely sighed. It was then that Ginny wandered back into the room, pulling a sweatshirt over her head.
"Ready?" she said to Harry who nodded and stood from the table. "We'll be back in a few," she said to the others, and they both went out through the back door, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the kitchen. It was the first time they had truly been alone in quite a while, and now, neither of them knew exactly what to say. Well, that wasn't entirely true. They both knew of a perfect topic to bring up, but didn't know quite how to go about bringing it up without seeming tactless. Hermione had racked her brain all night. Figuring out ways to bring it up. She knew it wasn't the most important subject that needed to be discussed, and therefore didn't want to be the one to bring it up first, in fear of seeming narrow-minded. But she knew Ron, and knew that the chances of him ever bringing it up were slim to none. It was this thought that made Hermione take a deep breath and say, "Ron, I think we need to talk."
He looked up from his tea at her, brow furrowed. "'Bout what?"
Hermione blinked at his response; how could he be so oblivious? Then again, this was Ron she was talking to. Ron, who has always been oblivious to everything. There was no skirting around subjects with him. One always had to approach things head on.
"Well, about the, er…" She cleared her throat. "The kiss."
"Oh," was all he said at first. He looked suddenly uncomfortable, fidgeting in his chair and avoiding her gaze. 'She regrets it,' Ron thought. 'Now that everything's said and done, she regrets it.' Dreading what was to come, Ron said, "What about it?"
Hermione pursed her lips momentarily. 'Yes, Hermione, what about it?' she asked herself. She was a smart woman, top in her year at Hogwarts – in the years that she had attended, that is – but for some reason Ron always seemed to stump her.
"I was just thinking about it, and I thought that maybe we could talk about it."
"You mean analyze it." Ron shook his head lightly. "Hermione, some things aren't meant to be analyzed. I know that that's what you do best; you like figuring things out. But I think it was pretty much self explanatory." Hermione smiled at this, and briefly wondered why she couldn't have made sense of it that way herself. "What I'm wondering now," Ron continued, scooting his chair a little closer to hers, "is if, now that it's quiet, and we're not in the middle of a war, we might be able to try it again." On the outside, he was the epitome of confidence, with the exception of his shaking hands. But on the inside, he was hoping against hope that he had been wrong about her regretting it. He was taking a giant leap, something he wasn't used to doing with Hermione.
Hermione, with butterflies fluttering around in her stomach, nodded at his suggestion and began to move in. He seemed to mirroring her action, going for meeting her in the middle, but before they made it, the windows all around them shattered one by one. Hermione screamed and Ron threw an arm around her, dragging them both to the floor and ducking under the table, shielding her body with his own. Even though all of the windows in the kitchen had shattered, Ron could hear all the rest around the house going, and he leapt up from the floor and sprinted out into the living room, bringing his arms up to protect his face. He heard his mother's screams, and a moment later the rest of his family came running down the stairs, blankets over their heads and fear in their eyes.
"Ron!" his mother yelled. "Ron, what's going on?" But Ron had no answer for her.
And just like that, it all ended. Ron guessed it was because every window in the house had been shattered. He stood in the middle of the living room, turning in a slow circle, surveying the damage. Glass crunched beneath his feet, and as his eyes swept over one of the damaged windows, he could see Harry and Ginny running towards the house.
"Is everyone alright?" he asked, his eyes locking with Hermione's – she had come out from beneath the table and now stood in the doorway. She nodded while everyone else murmured that, yes, they were fine.
"What happened?" Ginny asked.
"Ron and I were just sitting in the kitchen when the glass just started shattering around us."
Ginny stepped into the kitchen and looking around. Harry stepped up next to Ron and looked around the room as well.
"Ginny and I were headed back from our walk when we heard it. All the windows upstairs are busted." He looked around at all of the other Weasleys. "Are you sure none of you are hurt?"
"We're fine, Harry, dear. Just a bit startled is all. I can't even begin to think of what caused this." Mrs. Weasley's eyes traveled around the room slowly, taking in all of the wreckage. Mr. Weasley stood beside her, one arm wrapped protectively around her shoulders.
"We'll get to the bottom of this, dearest," he said to her, then pressed a kiss to the side of her head. Harry watched this, then instinctively looked around for Ginny. He saw her through the kitchen doorway, standing at one of the window frames, staring outside. There was something a bit off about her stance, and this made him step into the kitchen.
"Ginny?" he said gently. "Is everything okay?"
Ginny glanced back at him, and he noticed something in her eyes. Having only seen it fleetingly, he couldn't tell what it was.
"Harry, come look at this," was all she said at first, and when he stepped up beside her and looked out the window, his stomach dropped. There, out in the middle of the back yard, eye level, was a fiery message hovering in midair.
THIS ISN'T OVER YET, POTTER!
"Isn't over?" he said, echoing the message.
"He's dead, though, Harry," Ginny said, and Harry detected a waver in her voice. "He's dead, so this isn't really a threat, is it?" It was then that Harry realized that what he'd seen in Ginny's eyes was fear, because he could detect in her voice now. But Harry couldn't honestly answer that question. He knew there were still people who were firm believers in the dark arts; that's one thing that would never change. It look as thought now, someone were trying to take over for Voldemort, now that he had been overthrown.