Darkness swirled into bright, hazy light as Harry arrived in his apartment. He was standing in the living room, facing the huge, clear windows that overlooked the London skyline. The plush, flowery window seat was covered with books and small odds and ends of Ginny's. There was a bundle of parchment and paper, pots of ink and several frayed quills sitting on a TV tray. Ginny's homework.
Stretching his aching muscles, Harry blinked against the setting sun before moving from the spacious living room and through the pale green halls towards the bedroom. The door was ajar and he could see movement from within; whirls of color that moved back and forth quickly. He eased open the door quietly and watched for a moment as his girlfriend held up several different dresses to her chest in the mirror. Her red hair was pinned elegantly on the top of her head, several flyaway curls falling at the sides endearingly. Apart from the dresses she was alternating holding beneath her chin, she was wearing nothing but a thin, satin white slip. Long freckled legs shifted back and forth as she moved side to side.
"Either will do," said Harry casually, striding into the room.
Ginny gave a small shriek and whirled on him, brandishing the hangers the dresses were on like weapons. The sharp movement sent pins popping out of her curls and her red hair went tumbling down her back. Her brown eyes were wide. Upon realizing it was Harry, she let her arms fall to her sides and she tilted her head back and took a deep breath. "Harry, you bastard."
Harry couldn't help a small grin, though it was tired and worn. He watched as she slowly turned back to the mirror, though she suddenly didn't seem as enthusiastic about choosing a dress for the party. She watched him through the mirror as he slipped into the adjoining bathroom. Ginny had already picked up his suit jacket and had hung it on the back of the door. It was neatly pressed and had a pale blue handkerchief folded in the breast pocket.
"You're late," Ginny called from the bedroom, sounding slightly exasperated. It was true, of course. He was nearly thirty minutes late and he still had to shower. Gazing at himself in the mirror, he thought he needed much more than that - possibly several days of rest. The dark shadows, though slightly hidden by his glasses, made him look older than he was. He scrubbed the stubble on his chin and plucked another silver strand from his messy black hair. At nineteen, he was already going gray. The silver hairs weren't common, thank goodness, but he could just imagine the heckling he'd get if someone other than himself (or Ginny) ever plucked one from his head.
"Sorry," Harry apologized, but he didn't really mean it. For whatever reason, the party seemed completely unimportant. It was Ron and Hermione's first house; they'd finally saved up enough to afford the down payment (which was mostly in part due to Hermione's dictatorship over their finances). He should feel happy for them and part of him was, but a greater part was worried about the rest of his life – rebuilding and renewing. It didn't seem like the time to be celebrating, even though the war had ended two years ago and if now wasn't the time for celebrating, when would it be?
"What were you doing?" asked Ginny as she came into the bathroom to fix her hair. She'd picked a lavender dress made of silk and taffeta, with pale pink blossoms sewn up into the skirts. A sparkling ribbon had been tied around her waist and where one of the straps met the bunched fabric that dipped low, exposing much more cleavage than Harry thought was appropriate, there was a dazzling pink flower that smelled as though it had been freshly plucked, though Harry knew it was actually made of delicate fabric.
"Digging around in the sewer for a wand. The Death Eater we went after yesterday got away, but he dropped his wand in the gutter," explained Harry. He found it easier to maintain his double life if he kept as much as possible simple and true. It wasn't that he was directly lying, merely leaving out facts.
"That explains the smell," said Ginny as her fingers quickly and expertly slid sparkling pins into her hair, pulling her flaming red hair into a beautiful, coiled chignon. Harry rolled his shoulders and neck, easing the knots out of the tight muscles. He moved slowly over to the shower and turned it on, letting the water run hot. Suddenly, Ginny put her hand on his upper arm and tilted her head. "Are you okay?"
Harry gave her a smile that felt more like a grimace. "I'm fine. Just a long day. I'll be ready in a jiff."
Concern knitting her eyebrows together, she gave a short nod before slipping out of the bathroom, her purple skirt twirling around her smooth legs. The door slid shut behind her and Harry sighed. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him, if he was honest. Lately his life had seemed incredibly lackluster – the only excitement was when he was dashing around town, chasing the bad guys or helping conceal the not-so-bad guys. His life lacked excitement, and Harry wasn't sure if that was normal. Could it be he was bored because he wasn't constantly fighting for his life? That didn't seem right, but it felt more like the truth than he cared to admit.
The hot, gushing water from the shower might as well have been a luxury spa bath for the wealth of good it did him. By the time he'd stepped out and dried himself off, shaved off the slow-growing beard that was forming and put on his outfit for the evening, he looked a new man. The shadows under his eyes were still there, but less apparent. He tucked a crisp white shirt into his dark denim jeans and quickly pulled the suit jacket over top. It was about as fancy as Harry Potter got.
When he left the bathroom, Ginny was talking into the bedroom phone quietly. Her voice faltered before breaking into a loud conversation about how shoes and Quidditch were not mutually exclusive. Harry knew she'd been talking about him and he could guess that on the other end of the phone was Hermione, who fretted more than she often let on.
"Ready?" Harry asked, grabbing his wallet from the dresser and slipping it into his back pocket. His wand was already carefully tucked up his sleeve in a leather band that held it in place. Ginny quickly ended her phone conversation, nodded and stood, sweeping up a gold clutch and slipping her small feet into matching sandals. Even if their relationship was currently in the category of unsteady at best, Harry would be the first to admit that Ginny looked dazzling. "You look beautiful."
For the first time in a long time, Ginny smiled so brightly at him he felt as though his innards were turning to warm butter. There was a flush to her cheeks and a brightness in her brown eyes that he hadn't seen in a while. It was surreal to him that he'd caused it with such a simple compliment that was merely a statement of fact. She dashed over and quickly took his arm, giving him a peck on the corner of his mouth.
"You don't look too bad yourself," she said, squeezing his arm gently.
In a moment, they were spinning through darkness and unease but both landed deftly on the corner of Hodgins Street where Ron and Hermione lived, concealed behind a high fence and a couple of black waste bins. When they turned out onto the sidewalk, Harry was surprised by how suburban and normal the street was. He'd been there before, of course, before Ron and Hermione had purchased the house, but it had been late in the evening and everything had seemed dark and shadowy. Now, with the warm glow of the setting sun, he could see how beautiful and very normal it was.
White houses lined the street with long lawns and sprawling flowerbeds filled with brightly blooming flowers. They were all relatively new, but not as cookie-cutter as many of the up-and-coming developments were. Each house had a bit of its own character. Some had paved driveways with sleek silver and black cars parked in them. Some had garages tucked in the back. Some had pale blue shutters and others had painted theirs bright yellow. Large, willowy trees stood in a few of the lawns, adding character and flare. It was a nice neighborhood. Harry hadn't spent a lot of time in nice neighborhoods, except for Little Whinging in Surrey, and this was definitely not Privet Drive.
A mother jogging with a stroller passed them by and waved and Ginny grinned and waved back. "I want to live in a place like this some day."
Harry nodded and swallowed. As beautiful as it was, he couldn't imagine himself living in a house like one of these. They were normal and perfect, something Harry was decidedly not. Living in their high-class apartment already seemed like fraud. It wasn't that he didn't want it; it was simply that he just didn't feel comfortable in a place like this. He preferred old stone and weathered wood to the white wash plastic siding and hot concrete. If he had to picture himself living in a full house someday, it was a quiet place out in the country, preferably surrounded by trees.
They came up to Ron and Hermione's house shortly. It was a corner lot, tucked between two large houses. Though the front lawn wasn't much to look at, Harry knew the backyard to be expansive. The house needed work; while it was built in the same vein as the others on the street, it hadn't been well cared for. The lawn was burnt brown by the summer sun and the white paint was chipped and fading. It wasn't much to look at, but Harry knew that Ron and Hermione would turn it into something beautiful. Already Hermione had planted the small flowerbeds beneath the bay window with brightly colored tulips, bluebells and hyacinths. A rose bush crowded the creaky wooden steps up to the front door.
The house was already alive with the sounds of music and people. The front door was propped open with a heavy, ceramic gnome that had come with the property. The last time Harry had seen it, it had been buried waist-deep in the flowerbed. It wasn't getting any better treatment as a doorstop it seemed. It was missing an arm and the tip of its pointy hat had been broken off.
Harry recognized nearly every person in the house. All of his old school mates had shown up; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were in an animated conversation with Ron over by the overstuffed couch in the sitting room. All of the Weasleys were present, which surprised Harry. He hadn't expected Bill or Charlie to be there at all, but there they were, sitting in a corner with Arthur discussing work or politics. Fleur was trailing behind Hermione, who looked a bit exacerbated by her presence. Fleur was very obviously pregnant and made even prettier by the lovely glow she'd adopted.
There were others there, too, that Harry recognized. Luna Lovegood was standing next to a table laden with food talking to Hannah Abbott, whom was listening to Luna talk with wide-eyes. Harry could only imagine what they were discussing.
The party flowed out into the backyard, which was heavily made up for the occasion. Streamers were strung up along the white fence line, alternating colors every now and then. Fairy lights shimmered through the shrubbery, moving from branch to branch. George was setting off firecrackers that left great plumes of sweet-smelling, colored smoke. There was a small fire pit surrounded by colored stones that would every now and then burst into flame, animal shapes taking form in the dancing fire before the flames would settle back into the warm coals. Lawn chairs were strewn about and there were several self-cooling coolers filled to the brim with alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages.
"Harry!" Hermione cried once she'd laid her eyes on him, quickly hurrying over and wrapping her arms around his neck in a tight hug. She didn't let go right away, taking the moment to quietly whisper, "Save me."
Though Harry's stomach twisted at her words and his heart leapt in nervous anxiety, he quickly realized that she wasn't talking about any immediate danger, but rather her shadow with the baby-bump. Fleur smiled brightly at Harry and he felt his stomach flutter. Her Veela powers seemed only enhanced by her pregnant state and even after years of knowing her, Harry still felt they could probably sway him. Still, he had enough experience not to react and merely shook her hand.
"Harry! Ginny! It's so good to see you," Fleur said quickly, brushing her blonde hair over her shoulder. Ginny returned Fleur's smile with grace and poise (Merlin only knew where she'd gotten that from, growing up with six older brothers.) She and Fleur immediately fell into a conversation about French fashions and how was the baby and did they know if it was a boy or girl yet? Harry watched as his girlfriend led Fleur away and Hermione's shoulders sagged with relief.
"She and Bill," Hermione said with a tight-lipped smile. "Are staying with us for the weekend. They've already been here two days and I've said time and time again, I love them dearly but… Oh, God, Harry, please take them - at least Fleur. She follows me around day in and day out talking about the baby and how adorable Ron and mine will be."
Harry laughed at Hermione's expense, if only because he could completely understand what she was talking about. Only a few months before, shortly after Fleur had found out about her pregnancy, she'd sent copious amounts of letters to Ginny, the majority saying the very same things. Ron and Hermione were very close to actualizing their wedding plans; Harry and Ginny weren't even engaged, and the idea of children made Harry feel faint. He was very far from ready to have kids.
"Just another day then," Harry said optimistically. "Arthur and Molly should be finished their renovations by the end of summer and then you'll never have to worry about putting up the French demon again."
Hermione sighed, looking put out, but then she smiled and entwined her fingers in Harry's. "So, how have you been? You look better."
Harry very much doubted Hermione meant that, but she knew it was no help to berate Harry about his health. And in any case, this was meant to be a happy event and neither wanted to spoil it by talking about things that made them tense and uncomfortable. Still, it was difficult not to. Things were changing quickly and permanently and even without imminent danger of death, things were difficult and often uncomfortable.
"Good," Harry responded with a nod, but his eyes drifted to Ginny across the room. She had her hand on Fleur's stomach, her cheeks flushed and she was laughing. She seemed happy. The smile fell off his face. Hermione watched him knowingly and squeezed his hand. "Okay, not great, but… we're getting through."
"Everyone has rough patches," Hermione said quietly, brushing a strand of only slightly tamed bushy brown hair out of her eyes. "Take Ron and I, for example. Our rough patches are from Monday to Friday, eight hours a day, year round."
Harry laughed shortly, but it was only half-felt. His expression quickly turned somber. Still, it felt good to be talking to Hermione, even if it was about something as difficult as his relationship with Ginny. There was a reason Hermione was his best friend. He sighed. "Not like this. We don't connect anymore. There's this giant gaping space that neither of us know how to fill. She's beautiful and funny and I love her, but there's… something missing. She knows it and I know it."
Hermione sighed and set her head against his shoulder briefly. "It will be okay, Harry. I promise. Even if it doesn't work… it will be okay."
Harry couldn't help but wrap his arm around Hermione's tiny shoulders. Life after the war wasn't what he'd expected at all, but there were at least some things that remained constant, things he could always count on. There was no way he could express how much he appreciated his best friends. He smiled at Hermione before shaking his head.
"Anyway," he quickly forced the unsettling topic aside and switched gears. "The house looks great. I see you managed to get the red stain off the ceiling."
Hermione snorted. "It was just pizza sauce, I think. Ron was convinced it was blood and wouldn't go anywhere near it. I spent an hour on a ladder while Ron was coming up with obscene and completely ridiculous stories about how it got there."
Harry laughed again and they fell into easy conversation, Hermione explaining their plans for their new house, mingled with nervous agitations about the up-coming wedding. Though Harry couldn't understand at all how missing flower bouquets was a life-or-death situation, he let Hermione vent and nodded as though he understood completely. Every now and then he glanced across the room at Ginny, who had left Fleur with her husband and was now standing at the table, laughing at something Luna had said. Luna was blushing furiously and trying to discretely smooth her homemade, orange paisley skirt.
The night seemed to be going quite smoothly when it happened. At first, it had been only a few pin-pricks and an ache in his shoulders that Harry attributed to work-related stress and a simple headache. But as the house emptied and he sat on the back steps with Ron, he was suddenly doubled over in pain, clutching his head as his vision exploded with white fireworks and it felt as though his skull was cracking and splintering. He managed to bite back a cry, but a moan slipped passed his lips.
"Harry?" he heard Ron say, feeling his best friend grip his shoulder tightly. There were several indistinct shouts, blood thrumming through his ears so loudly he could hear little else. His vision was darkening and he felt as though he were being pulled away to somewhere black and cold. He thought he saw something hazy and pale, a green light that sent a shudder down his spine. But just as suddenly as the pain had come on, he felt a snap as he was sucked back into the present and when he blearily opened his eyes, he found Ginny kneeling in front of him with worry in her eyes, clutching his hands. Hermione was to her left and Ron was bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet.
"Harry, what's wrong? What happened?" Ginny asked, her hands cool against his sweaty palms. The heat stuck his shirt to him and he felt as though his skin was on fire. Though the pain had all but dissipated, there was a dull ache behind his eyes. His throat felt dry and his cheeks were wet and he realized he'd been silently crying. He quickly released Ginny's hand and wiped his eyes with the backs of his hands.
"I don't know," he croaked, sitting up a bit straighter. "It was like –"
He faltered. It was like the pain he'd felt whenever he'd had visions of Voldemort - of when Voldemort had touched his forehead. But this had been worse somehow, perhaps because there was no reason for it to be there in the first place. He swallowed thickly.
"Maybe we should just go home," Ginny said gently and Harry could only numbly nod. He let her pull him to his feet and she wrapped an arm around his waist. Hermione was staring at him with concern, clutching Ron's hand.
"Great party, mate," Harry managed to say, nudging Ron with his elbow. Ron forced a smile and Harry returned it, but the frightening experience had left him hollow. Ginny took him into the house and around the kitchen to a private corner.
"I'll apparate, you just hold on, okay?" she said quietly, brushing the hair from his forehead. Her fingers felt like ice on his temple. She brushed the back of her fingers along his cheek. He nodded. She took both of his hands in hers and soon they were plunged into darkness, Ron and Hermione's house spinning out of his vision.