Ch. 10 What about Harry?

A/N: Yes, I'm back and this is off hiatus. I realized I had 8K worth and none of it was fitting for this story. Throw in some writer's block on this one particular chapter – deadlines for other things I committed to – real life interrupting for 3 months – and voila. I admit, I got lost in the sorry. So - like a poorly mechanical form, I went back and re-learned how to write again. Painful, yet a very necessary lesson by yours truly. The upside is that I now currently have almost 40K for a backstory that might eventually turn into the Yr13 fic that is in the works.

For PettyBureaucrat, who was kind enough to write – this is for you. - DG

Harry's abrupt disappearance from Bill's wedding – along with the bloody rude interrogation from the bastards that showed up – was enough to frighten me. I was distraught that Ron and Hermione were gone too. They kept insisting I knew where Harry was. No one believed that we broke up. Bloody gits. They certainly tormented me like we were still dating.

When my story didn't change, those bastards harassed Bill – Fleur too – until they decided that I was telling the truth. The questions left me upset and pissed off. I'd have shoved my wand up their arse if the situation wasn't so dire.

They left and I ran for my room. I couldn't decide whether to break everything or curl into a ball and cry like an ickle firstie again. The shakes took over and I curled into a ball on my bed.

I've not done that since Tom was first in my head, the ruddy fucker.

Only when Daddy came to my room and we talked a while that I settled down.

Two weeks later the mandate came via owl post. I had to return to school. Bollocks.

It was the first time I was truly on my own, away from all of my family, and I was scared to death.

I did some really dumb shit stunts. I know that now. I was deathly afraid for Harry and scared of losing him. I missed my tosspot of a brother, and I missed my best friend. Who wouldn't be, being terrorized while forced to be at school? Who wouldn't have cowered in fear after being ambushed coming out of the prefect's bath, being beat mercilessly and via magic? Crying in pain while Pansy Parkinson hissed insults in my ear, my ribs broken from their kicks only compounded my problems.

Luna was a comfort when I needed family to lean on. No one else could have done what she did without feeling strange or making it complicated. I love her like Hermione – a sister from another mother. Things got bad enough that I couldn't sleep unless she was there with me.

And then there is Neville. I will always love Neville, even if I never was in love with him. He was there when no one else was. He protected me from everyone who wanted to hurt me – including myself.

I lost Harry, once. He nearly lost me too. But once the world changed, we still weren't ready for more than just pleasant company. I wasn't over losing Fred or Mum.

I wasn't over losing me either.

I looked down at the plates in front of me. All of them were empty. When did I eat it? Hrmph. First breakfast wasn't quite enough. Another plate of bacon and eggs should do. Bet Hermione would eat some bread and beans if it was here for her.

I waved to the bint behind the bar. The staff knew I took seconds. It was considered a given.

Steam seeped from the spout of the pot. I must have gotten another one while I was lost in the last cup. I poured another cup, adding sugar and milk to taste.

Memories rose up like the steam from the cup.

Harry started to open up once Ron and Hermione left for Australia. The summer breaks when he had to spend time with his relatives was necessary. Now that the threat on his life was gone, and he didn't have to spend time with those mad Muggles known as his family, he was adrift. No one realized it but he was completely lost without his best friends. It might have been the first time in years, maybe since his first day on the train that they weren't there for him.

It's not like he let me in at first. Holding me on the couch while I cried doesn't count. Those moments of comfort for a friend mean so much, those first few days after Fred was laid to rest. Everyone else had someone else to help and comfort. Charlie and Percy weren't available, since they were fighting like mad to keep George from drinking himself to death. I had Harry, but it wasn't even as my boyfriend.

The morning they left, Harry came over for breakfast. It wasn't anything special, just tea and toast since I was the one who made it. Over that simple breakfast, we sat, barely talking, sharing silence before going on a walk into the village.

That short walk to get groceries for the day was nothing special really, at least to everyone else who saw us. It looked like two kids running an errand for their mum for supper.

He barely said half a dozen words the entire forty five minutes we were out. We didn't hold hands. We certainly didn't snog like we had before he broke up with me. But the company and the quiet looks were comforting.

He didn't push and I didn't pull. Neither one of us was ready for anything more than just friendship.

Harry stayed for lunch, if I remember. I made ham and cheese sandwiches along with opening a bag of crisps. It wasn't much but we didn't mind. Mum came downstairs in a temper, yelling herself hoarse, so we started on the chores she demanded of us. She continued her tirade while we worked, never saying a word in complaint. She quickly burned out and retired upstairs sobbing yet again.

Harry took her diatribes in stride, keeping quiet while we finished the chores she foisted upon us.

That day first day he stayed helping around the house until dinner. It wasn't much – just chicken sandwiches and more crisps – but he didn't complain. Daddy and Charlie arrived right as I was finishing dinner so I stopped what I was doing and made theirs too. Daddy went to bed after he finished his sandwich. He kissed me on the cheek and went upstairs. Charlie though washed dishes for me and had them put away while I finished my dinner. He said to not wait up since he was going out to a pub. I didn't care at this point. I knew he had a girl somewhere but he never said. But that was Charlie.

Harry left a little while later and I didn't blame him. I had enough of the quiet in the house.

One day turned into two.

The second morning, I tried frying up eggs and a pan of rashers. That was a disaster. At least I knew how to do tea and toast. Charlie came down later and made an edible breakfast, eggs and bangers and white pudding. At least one of us could cook a decently proper breakfast. Charlie offered to stay home – he wanted to replace the roof shingles that were worn out – and to help Mum if she needed it.

We left for Grimmauld place with the intention to work on the parlor. So much needed cleaning in his house. What little work we did that second week was haphazard and far from extensive. That week was mostly tossing the dark magic items for the ministry and the worst in the house. We didn't talk much and when we did, it was cursory like the original cleaning. I couldn't do magic and Harry wanted to work like a Muggle because I was restricted. So we worked on the parlor tossing moldy brocaded fabrics and smoke stained linens.

Two turned into a week.

Sunday morning, I came downstairs and Harry wasn't there. I started a kettle of water, and went to go feed the chickens in the coop. I spied Harry outside on the bench down by Fred's oak tree. It quit being my oak tree that particular day in May.

I walked down the path to him with no idea what to expect. I didn't expect to find him chilled in a damp jumper, clammy to the touch. I talked but I think his mind was elsewhere. As I was about to leave, he pulled me to him and held me while he wept.

That was the first morning he let me in. That morning was when we started being friends, not just being friendly. That morning was the first one where the unspoken wall between us crumbled. In one moment, the last year evaporated like condensation from a window.

He already knew some of the horror I went through at school. I didn't dare share everything that happened last year. Some things were too traumatic. Then again I had no idea what happened with them while they were away those long months.

But for us, a possible future wasn't obscured.

Within a week of Ron and Hermione's departure we had a set routine and it helped pass the next five weeks like a fog draped dream. Harry would come over for breakfast – tea and toast with occasionally burned eggs thanks to my dreadful skills. Then we'd leave and go check on George, work on Grimmauld then return home to the Burrow to work before starting dinner in the late afternoon.

Sometimes, we'd stay at home doing necessary chores since Mum wasn't a consistent help yet. There were days where Mum had no energy to lift a finger to feed anyone. Those days if Harry and I went to his house in London we'd get takeaway while there. I learned to like curry, and also appreciated Thai spicy noodles. I also made sure to get enough for Mum and Dad. Mum might eat – she might not. If I cooked for Harry Daddy had enough too. I knew he appreciated the meals, even if he didn't say much about them. Commercial fare was better than my cooking, but I missed Mum's cooking most.

A few times we went over to see Andromeda and Teddy. If we had a meal we'd take it to her. We didn't mind the errand. Andromeda appreciated what we brought along with the company we provided. Sometimes when we went over she'd leave. Andromeda needed the few hours away on occasion, running errands and doing what few things she had the desire to do. Teddy would be asleep much of the time we'd go watch him, but sometimes, he'd wake while we were there. Playing with Teddy, and the occasional nappy change, were such a learning experience. I don't know who got more out of the time with him – me or Harry.

One time we returned home early enough to start dinner but Mum beat us to it. She cooked up chicken and roasted potatoes and a salad. Simple fair but it tasted so good. I couldn't help it but I was happy, for once. Mum scowled from time to time that evening when I was too rambunctious with Charlie. She'd give me a look when I was too loud with Percy and Bill too. I tried hard to cope quietly but it wasn't working. It was so maddening, a houseful of family and yet I felt so alone.

While I was handing around a plate of chicken I felt his hand on my knee. I looked to my right and he was looking down at his plate of dinner but a ghost of a smile crossed his face when I looked at him. Daddy smiled at the same time, watching until Harry took his hand back.

From then on, chaste displays of attention and affection were permitted – at least by Harry. Dad never said a word, and eventually, Mum didn't either. They trusted Harry. It was me who they didn't trust.

Mum didn't cook for a week after that evening. It was like she threw everything she had into that little bit of time of normalcy. She was exhausted beyond that, barely saying a word to anyone save Dad.

I didn't know why they didn't trust me with Harry.

"Anything else Ginny?"

"No, thanks, I'm good now."

Maggie the bar bint shrugged, walking away to another patron.

In front of me was another plate of Full Breakfast, along with another pot of tea. I could use that to keep me awake today. I poured another cup, ready to tackle more fried eggs and other memories.

There were fireworks at Harry's 18th birthday party. Snogging Harry in front of the entire family was the second most exciting thing that day. George being a vicious drunk and Hermione taking him to task for it was probably the thing I will remember most. Pathetic, isn't it, that my best friend waylaying my drunken brother and giving him an epiphany was more exciting to me than snogging Harry. Nope. Hermione dealing with George was more important. It was the first time in months that he seemed to find that little spark, the little flame that wanted to live.

Then again, I did snog Harry in front of everyone. That took nerve that I won't forget. I remember the dressing down I got from Daddy for doing that – and the lecture from Mum about how I acted that day. We worked diligently on becoming friends again, inching out way into a real relationship. Spending most of the summer talking, and spending time together as friends helped in so many ways. We were both ready by then to restart our relationship as a couple, not as close friends.

I resented the decorum I had to maintain around Mum because I was honestly sick of the chastity in front of my family. That kiss he gave me wasn't chaste, and it promised more to come. It quickly turned to a snog, much to everyone's chagrin.

You'd think I'd remember the first kiss, the first one in months that could really mean more than Glad you're still alive! before cracking his jaw loose, would have been memorable.

I hate that I forgot that first kiss. I certainly didn't forget the second one. I went from tears to cheers when Harry kissed me in front of everyone at my birthday party eleven days later.

Luna and Neville laughed. Dean spilled his butterbeer down his shirt and Hannah was helping him clean the mess. Ron and Hermione grinned at one another before snogging themselves. Dad never said a word about them. Ruddy hypocrites.

I had been waiting on that kiss for months. For our second kiss, it was magical.

Dad broke us from it before it got obnoxious. It's not like anything else was going to happen in front of everyone. The look on his face along with Mum was not a pleasant Happy Birthday. I knew there would be a lecture from them before I went to Harry's house to continue the private party. I'd heard it from them for years – about being a lady, keeping decorum and propriety. Sod it. I've missed time with Harry and missed the stolen moments before the world changed.

I had another strip of bacon in my hand when I heard her start down the stairs from the rooms above. Sitting in the booth under the stairs gave me some advantage. She doesn't walk like Ron, like an erumpet, but her footfalls are heavy and impatient, like walking is too slow for her.

Harry's the same way, walking like an erumpet. He's not impatient. He just doesn't care. Sleeping under the stairs for so long and hearing his barmy cousin treading on those steps probably made him immune to his footfalls. Merlin knows I've only cared about my footfalls when I'm hiding from my brothers – or Mum.

It was only after his birthday that I noticed that Harry was not looking like Sirius and more like he did at Bill's wedding. That's saying something since he's pretty lean and thin anyway. His robes were fitting a bit more snug and his vests were looking better on his body. Or maybe it was me noticing the changes in him, at least physically.

The minister was still running him ragged, going on missions as an observer and doing more during the day occasionally. When he wasn't gone on ministry duty he was free to sleep, eat, and laugh some with us. I only had about three weeks before I had to return to school for my last year. I intended to live to the fullest in those weeks remaining.

Harry was also starting to come out of his shell in one particular regard – arguing with me. Sometimes it would be snarky and cheeky, other times cutting and vicious. I didn't hold back when he got that way – I never would with him. Eventually, we'd work it out – and get back to what we were doing. Most of our rowing was petty things – towels in the bathroom or crisps bags left on the table. Kreacher wasn't at his house to help keep it tidier. He was at Hogwarts helping with the repairs and other things. So naturally it fell on me. I'm not as good as mum in domestic magical cleaning but it's a good start.

We weren't like those other two prats – rowing then shagging – but there was certainly enough rowing going on.

I wanted more but my bleeding noble prat of a boyfriend promised Daddy that we would take our time, at least physically. I was annoyed about him talking about such things with Daddy without asking me first, ruddy bugger. I would have said the same thing, waiting. We didn't want to act like my brother and best friend – getting caught in various compromising positions. I wasn't ready for that. It might not have been as much as Mum would have liked – but we didn't rush into it like that tosspot of a brother did. I was content to cuddle with him while he slept during the day. Most of the time, snogging and sleeping were enough for me.

School would still be rough enough the first terms without being sexually frustrated.

The last night in August I had a change of heart. I wanted to give him something memorable, to make the time apart bearable while I was away at school and he was at Auror camp. That night we got more physical than previous evenings and it was enough for us for the time being. Harry didn't mind in the least since he got off. I learned a bit more than I previously knew.

Then again we were caught by Mum with my shirt off and randy as fuck. She has some bleeding timing, interrupting what should have been my turn.

Bloody Hell!

I was tucking into the second helping eggs when Hermione joined me in the booth. The saucer of tea wasn't tepid yet so I poured her a cup, adding just enough milk to make her content, and pushed that over to her. I didn't say anything in greeting save pushing over a plate of bread too. No thanks were needed. We'd been through too much together to waste simple platitudes with one another. She glanced down at it, nodded, and proceeded to drink up, not acknowledging the warm breakfast.

At least Harry would eat if you put a plate of food in front of him.

Do I know my best friend? Do I know my lover, my fiancé? What am I missing? Why would he go barmy so fast? What made him lose his temper so fast with me, when Draco sodding Malfoy was the last person whom I would do anything with, except shoving my wand up his arse? Did he honestly think something happened while he was away?

It was only after the fighting settled down and life came close to returning to normal was it obvious that they all changed, especially Harry. Maybe it's something similar to the fact that Hermione couldn't stomach most of my favorite cooking or that Ron didn't talk as much. Whether it was the fact that he made that walk into the forest, hoping to avert disaster, or that he had a whole new outlook on life, since he chose to take a second chance to live.

What pissed off Harry? Didn't Harry remember what we talked about the day after my birthday? Was something said that night, so many months ago, that exploded in my face? Did he say something I missed, or even worse, ignored? Was there some pain that I didn't see, or understand? Didn't he recall about the various punishments I went through while he was out trying to save all of us?

Did something happen he didn't tell us that night that he's gone barmy over? Could that be what's bothering him, what Hermione still copes with? Could that be what set him off? Why is this coming to a head now, rather than earlier?

Could it be that he was jealous for no bloody reason? Or is he deathly afraid of losing me, like he lost almost everyone else?

I get that there are times where he won't confide in me. I can rationalize that since it's related to work and there are things he just can't talk about. I can handle him being moody, or sitting in the study just thinking. There are many days where he will get hurt on the job and not tell me, only finding a bruise or a potion bottle later on. Those days, when he's pushing and I'm pulling – or pushing too – I can put up with his scathing comments and vicious retorts when we're rowing.

Those are the nights where he's something else in bed. He can't tell me how bad his mission went but he can take it out on me with his body. Whether it's me riding him like a broomstick in a match, going at it like two fiends racing towards the ground or a slow shagging where he's got me bent like one of Fleur's croissants. But it's when he had a terrible mission that he has to unload his burden and I'm only too willing to listen to him, speaking through his actions. Those mornings, afternoons, and nights, he's got me tearing at the bedclothes while he's pounding away, whispering the dirtiest things. He pulls my hair and I drag my barely feminine nails down his back or bite him here and there.

Only then when every last bit of frustration is poured out is he better.

Could that be what's going on with Harry? Could Harry finally start to show signs of who he is? Is there a crack in his personal armour? Can't be – he mostly shares everything with me, now. Once Hermione and Ron got together so brilliantly, he backed away from them too. They were too busy snogging and shagging to notice that Harry had gone off in his own world. I saw it, those years ago: the bone deep weariness, the crushing fatigue, questions that couldn't be answered, guilt that couldn't be explained away.

Those questions nagged at me while sitting at the table.

I know that some pain can't be overcome – just scarred over, and encapsulated, hopefully one day to be eviscerated.

Today wouldn't be that day. I had other things to chase and seek. Finding answers about Harry was paramount, at least at the moment. What the fuck was I going to do when I saw him next? How can we resolve the situation?

I looked up and saw Hermione watching the pub doors, drinking her tea and ignoring the buttered bread in front of her. Her wand lay on the table next to the spoon, within reach if she needed it. I know about her second one, the one Ron insisted she keep on her at all times, hidden on her left arm. Mine is in a different location. I only notice mine now if I move my right arm the wrong way and bump it on a wall or furniture. Harry insists since Lestrange and Dolohov are still out there. I don't blame him in the least.

"Eat up. The bread is made fresh every morning. It's not toasted, so you've no excuse to pass it up."

"I'm not hungry."

I looked over at her, watching her stoically drink her tea. Her silence during breakfast used to unnerve me, but no longer.

McGonagall insisted that anyone who had been in the battle last year – or had family who had been harmed – were to meet weekly with the healer. The sessions with the Mind Healer that McGonagall had on-staff our last year helped. Post trauma syndrome something was what Hermione called it.

I didn't need more than once a week then to work through my anger. The primary sources of my rage were dead or permanently locked away in St. Mungo's. My therapy was up on the broom above the Quidditch pitch, flying like a dragon chasing my arse. My memories couldn't harm me as much any longer, even if nightmares still tormented me from time to time. Seeing that beautiful bastard Riddle – not the snake faced fucker Harry killed recently, but the one out of that bloody diary – haunting my dreams up until the first time I lay with Harry – tormented me more than anything else.

Hermione was right – shagging Harry chased away that monster.

Harry tried to hold to his promise but I needed him more than my parents did. I resent that they put him in that position in the first place, trying to keep me restrained on acting. Bloody stupid if you ask me.

It was the fourth night away from home – Mum and Dad were still in Rumania with Charlie – and I was having a nightmare. I still remember it. It's the same one I've been having since Harry put a basilisk fang through the bloody diary. But having it three nights in a row all these years later? That'd never happened before.

Looking back, I shouldn't have been surprised. The bastard was jealous of what I had with Harry. As he deigned to insult, he was envious of the stink of humanity and the melding of our flesh.

It all started with a kiss which isn't surprising. I woke up crying, trying to push the monster away from my body. I felt strong arms holding me tight before soft words crept into my ears. I couldn't even see in the darkened room yet I realized almost immediately who was kissing me.

'Harry,' I whispered. 'Dear Merlin please!'

I closed my eyes to the sensations he was stirring. He touched and I shivered. He caressed and I moaned. He explored and found me wanting even more. In the dark, under the covers of his bed, his calloused fingers brought pleasure I barely knew.

He gave love to my scars, helping melt away the nightmares associated with each last one of them.

I asked and he said yes. He asked and I replied, 'That's already happened. You're not going to hurt me.'

I settled back into the pillows and waited for him to move. 'Merlin, you're beautiful,' he said quietly.

We kissed, groped and caressed one another before he looked at me in the dim candlelight. 'We don't have to do this. I'm happy to wait.'

'I'm not. You're it for me, Harry, and you have been for years. There is no one else.'

It wasn't perfect and it certainly wasn't glamorous or exciting, at least for me. Anticlimactic is what I would say since he finished mere moments after we started. I expected no less for a first time. What I didn't expect was that he slid down my body and gave me more pleasure – just to make up for my discomfort and his lack of stamina.

I got lost under his intimate touch. He made it worth it, giving so much that I passed out from the overload.

When I opened my eyes I saw the smug grin on his face. I pulled him to me and we snogged yet again. He was insistent and I certainly wasn't going to complain so we did it again – and again. Eventually we fell asleep in the early morning hours. That's when that arse Riddle showed up once again. He berated me, insulted and ridiculed me, trying to seduce me with his empty promises.

That last taunting – and my revulsion of the fucker – was all I was going to tolerate.

I rolled over and told Harry about the fiend in my soul. From that moment, sharing everything that happened when I was nothing more than a child and exposing every thought I had of that nasty monster, Tom Riddle fell silent. Mentally and emotionally, it felt like I shoved a basilisk fang through my own nightmare.

It was stunningly glorious to get rid of him once and for all. I was finally rid of that particular nightmare.

Something was bothering her and I had a feeling I knew what it is. "Nightmares?"

She looked back at me, like she hadn't slept any after I left her for breakfast. Her drawn expression and bruised eyes gave her away without her need to respond. "You should have gotten me. I would have kept you company."

She looked at me again, then back at the door while sipping her tea. It must have been a bad one if she's this quiet. We can't stay here another night. She needs Ron. He keeps the monsters away.

Hermione stayed silent throughout the remainder of my breakfast while I contemplated what to do.

"You need to eat. I'm the one who should be sitting in my room sulking instead of eating a side of hippogriff for breakfast." Another bite of eggs, and a piece of bacon later, "It's bad enough I'll be sick, but you shouldn't be either."

Hermione huffed. "I'm fine. I'll get takeaway for lunch."

One last strip of bacon lay on my plate. I dithered, playing with a rind on a rasher, hoping that Hermione would eat something. The slice of bread was still sitting in front of her, untouched. She looked at me and shook her head. A hand went up, and her takeaway order was going in while I finished the last slice.

She needs to be home with my brother. I can see it in her shadowed features. I need to deal with my problem too. I can't hide any longer. I don't like fighting with Harry in the least, but this needs to be settled.

Merlin, I have no idea what I am going to do.

"Once we're done with breakfast, we'll go back to your flat. I don't know if I want to see Harry today, but I don't want to keep you from your husband any longer."

She turned to face me and I flinched. The ember in her eyes was faint. I hate when her nightmares are so bad that she won't confide in me. She scares me silly when she's speechless.

We went back to the room, collecting what few things we brought with us, and paid our tab at the bar below. She never touched slice of bread in front of her. After seeing her face, I wasn't surprised.

The next stop was her flat. I wasn't necessarily looking forward to it.

It's not like I had much choice in the matter either.