A vision flittered before Harry of a tidy bed, a wooden ceiling, and light filtering in from a window. For one sickening moment, he was sure that he was back in Anoushka's shack. His stomach lurched, he breathed in sharply and veered up.

But several things were not as they first seemed. The walls weren't made of rough oak wood planks and white stucco but were panelled with a vibrant yellowish-brown wood. The bedsheets were scarlet and tucked in so tightly that he found it hard to lift up his arms. And next to his bed sat Ginny.

He was home.

Ginny had noticed him waking up and seen that he was distressed. She shot up from her chair and approached him. "Easy, Harry, it's okay," she sussed, sitting down on the mattress next to him. "Oh, it's so good to see you finally awake!"

Harry's brain was still catching up. "Ginny," he breathed. He reached out to touch her hair. It was real, and soft. She gave a soft, almost inaudible sigh at the touch. "For one moment I thought…"

"That I wasn't real?" she asked softly. "I've been wondering the same thing ever since we brought you here."

"We're in Grimmauld Place, aren't we?" he asked, looking up to meet her eyes. He needed to be sure…

"We are," she said, a smile tugging at her lips. "You're home."

Harry leaned back, and all tension left his body. "I'd given up hope that this day would come," he said.

There was a pause. There were so many things he had to tell her, ask her… It was overwhelming. He had no idea where to start.

"So," Ginny said hesitantly. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm not really awake," he replied. He looked up at her. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days," she said. That was when Harry started to notice the rings under her eyes and how short and uneven her fingernails were.

"Wow." He swallowed. "Am I that hurt?"

"You were." She sighed, and Harry heard a hint of a sob in there. "It was… I had to call Andromeda."

"Oh." Andromeda, Teddy's grandmother and caretaker, was also a fairly good Healer. "I was stabbed, wasn't I?"

"You were." She paused. "She said you had bruises, cuts and scratch marks all over you. She said it was as if you'd fought a wild beast. And your hand was broken and poorly healed. Harry…"

"I haven't been at a beach resort all this time," he said.

"I didn't think you were." Her lips twitched. "Remember that holiday in Spain?"

"Yeah…" he snorted. "Never again. We should have seen it coming, though… No Quidditch pitch…"

Ginny smiled, but it disappeared quickly again. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" she asked.

Harry sighed and looked back at the ceiling.

"If you'd rather not, then I understand. You've clearly been through a lot, and you're only just awake–"

"No," he interjected. He knew now where he could start: simply by telling her everything, and this time he would hold nothing back from her. Not anymore. Nothing but the naked truth could suffice now. "I kept secrets before," he said. "No more." She grimaced, and nodded.

He didn't start at the point where he'd run away, but far earlier, at that May day where they had crashed a car into the Black Lake and barely survived. Ginny sat down on the edge of the bed as he kept talking. He told her of the water goddess that lived there, how he'd had no choice but to take the Elder Wand and heal Ginny's grievous wounds. He went on to tell her how he'd kept it hidden on his forearm, how he started experimenting with it.

"The guilt of not telling you…" he said. "Not a day went by where I didn't hate myself for what I was doing. I have no excuses, Gin."

Ginny, who had listened silently until now, opened her mouth. "Was it the Wand?"

"What do you mean?"

"I've read a lot about the Elder Wand," she said. "Lots of accounts said it affected the mind of the person who carried it. Kind of like…" she hesitated. "Kind of like the diary."

Harry saw the tension in her shoulders and the haunted look in her eyes. She'd struggled with this idea that the Wand and the diary were alike for a long time, he realised.

"I… I don't know," he said. "I'm being completely honest with you, Ginny. Where did the influence of that Wand end, and where did my own decisions begin? I want to tell you that it was all the Elder Wand's doing, and that I was just a passenger for those months… But…"

Ginny averted her gaze.

"I know that feeling," she whispered, and he had to strain his ears to understand what she was saying. "I'd struggled with that as well, especially in my second year."

"But you blacked out when Tom made you do those things–"

"So?" she said, meeting his eyes. "That doesn't change that it had been my own body doing those things, Harry. My own two hands strangled those roosters and wrote those messages on the walls. My own voice commanded the Basilisk and set it loose on the school. My own two legs carried me to the Chamber of Secrets to offer my soul to Tom." Her eyes glittered, but her expression hardly changed. "Yes, I was unconscious at the time. But does my own self end there? Aren't my hands and the rest of my body just as much part of me as my soul? Was it not me who kept writing in the diary long after I began to realise that there was something terribly wrong about it?"

"But–"

"No. I've carried this thought around for twenty years now. You can't fix it. The only thing that helped me, is that I vowed to never let this happen to me again."

"I…" he began. "I didn't know you still felt so strongly about that."

"That was the intention."

There was a pregnant pause.

"About the Elder Wand," he then said, and he saw some of the tension leave Ginny's shoulders. "It felt heavy on my arm. And cold on my skin. And I felt it more deeply than that, as if… as if it had latched onto my soul. That it directed me to where it wanted to go. Sometimes I felt an urge to use it as well. When someone's back was turned, all defenceless… When I was angry at someone and wanted them to feel pain…" he grimaced. "But it was subtle, and I could control those urges at least. Until recently, I would have said that its influence on me ended there. But Yaxley…" He paused, and a stab of panic shot through him.

"Yaxley!" he called, and he sat upright. "Yaxley has the Elder Wand, Ginny! And–"

"Stop it," Ginny interrupted him. She put her hand against his chest and pushed him back down onto his back. "You're only just awake, and if Andy saw that I've kept you awake all this time, she'd skin me alive."
"But–"
"No. Later. We will talk about it, but not yet."

He clamped his mouth shut.

"Better. What did you want to say before?"

Harry thought back to his train of thought. "Right. When Yaxley took the Elder Wand from me, after he stabbed me, it recognised him as its new carrier. And I felt it disconnect from me, but something funny happened to him. I can't really explain it, but it was like something had changed inside him. Like something else had taken over." He rubbed his face. "So where does that leave us?" He spread his arms to show her how clueless he was.

"So during that time where you started experimenting with the Elder Wand…"

"The murders started, and there was more and more tension. From Kingsley, from the press, from simply the desire to catch the bastard…" He continued to explain the catastrophically failed attempt at luring Yaxley in to arrest him, the uncertainty following it until Harry stumbled across Xenophilius Lovegood's dead body, and the hectic events that followed that discovery, which lead to the fateful happenings inside the Forbidden Forest. Harry's hands trembled more and more as he approached that part of the story.

"… Teddy and I were there, together, in that clearing, and I was sure that Yaxley was watching us. And then I heard something behind me, a footstep, leaves rushing…" He balled his fists and squeezed the bedsheets. He looked up at Ginny and felt tears spring into his eyes. "Before I knew it, I had fired that curse… And then I saw what I'd done…" He broke off and bit his lip to stifle a sob. He felt Ginny's soft caress on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off. "I wanted to kill myself," he said, dodging her gaze as tears streaked down his face. The words were out. "When I was running away through the forest, I kept seeing her before me, lying there… bleeding so, so heavily from her stomach."

He heard Ginny stand up and thought that she was leaving him. But then she circled around the bed and sank down next to him, on the vacant side. She slipped under the blanket and wrapped her arms around him.

"Come here," she whispered. "Come, turn around…" He turned on his side to face her, and she pulled him close. He closed his eyes and felt her warmth on his skin.

"She's okay," she said, stroking the back of his head. "She gave birth to a beautiful girl called Rose. She and Ron love her very much. Everyone loves her. She's beautiful and neither her nor her mum have any lasting injuries from it."

"They won't want to see me ever again," he whispered feebly. "And I deserve it."

"You're wrong," she said. Harry opened his eyes and tried to squirm from her grasp, but she was too strong. "Look at me, Harry," she said.

"Don't lie to me," he rasped. "You all hate me for what I've done. I know you lot. Ron must've talked about killing me with his bare hands millions of times, as well as your other brothers. And Hermione wants to hex me until I'm in St Mungo's, next to Lockhart."

Ginny chewed on her tongue as they held eye contact. Then she sighed. "Alright," she said. "Yes, we were talking about that. Yes, Ron wanted to strangle you, and Hermione did want to hex you."

"And you–"

"Let me finish," she snapped. "We used to talk about that. But that lessened with time, especially after Hemione healed and once Rose was born. And do not talk like that about Hermione wanting to hex you into a bed next to Lockhart. We're family, Harry, and we forgive each other."

"You don't know half of what I've done," Harry stubbornly said.

"Then tell me!" she urged. "Stop assuming how I'll react. It'll eat you up if you don't."

Harry glared at her, but he knew that she was right. He rubbed his eyes, and then told her what happened after, from his travels south, past the Yaxley Mansion, to a strange urge to go west, to Liverpool. Then he arrived at Belfast. Harry tried to pull himself from Ginny's grasp again, but she refused to let him go. And thus he looked down, up, anywhere but at her as he described Damien, how he'd tricked Harry into the gang, and what Harry was up to once he was violently initiated into the Buckriders.

"I've smuggled drugs across the city, Ginny," he said. "I've collected illegal potions and ingredients, I've collected money from hopeless addicts and then spent it on things that helped the Buckriders even more. I even bought a stupid harp for some old man who lived there, with the money that we'd earnt from those poor people."
"And what would have happened if you'd refused?"

Harry clenched his jaw, then replied. "I would have been murdered by Damien. I suppose you're right. Speaking of Damien…" And he went on to explain Yaxley's sudden appearance, followed by Lydia's revelations and the hope they found together, leading to his fight with Damien and subsequent escape.

"But she never turned up on the ferry," he said. "Lydia. She knew there was a chance that could happen. She carried her broom on her, but still…" he bit his lip.

Ginny had grown more silent. Where she used to ask some questions here and there before, the past fifteen or so minutes she was completely quiet.

However, much he enjoyed her warmth pressed up against him in her embrace, it did get quite uncomfortable. They'd been lying next to each other, occasionally seeking eye contact, but otherwise staring at the ceiling as Harry talked and talked. His throat started to get sore, but now that he had started, he found that he was unable to stop. It was like ripping off a bandage, he thought. But the visions that he had been so anxious about all this time; of Ginny shouting at him, throwing him out of the house again… None of that happened and it strengthened him to continue, even though he already dreaded where the story was going.

"I don't even know how long ago this happened," he continued. "It was in autumn, but it must be somewhere in Spring now, mustn't it?"

"It's April 15th," Ginny said in a soft voice. "You've lost track of time since? And why didn't you come here immediately once you were in England again?"

"I had no money," he said. "And I wasn't about to use the Elder Wand. I figured I'd just walk south instead. But there was something… I can't really explain it, but as I was walking, I went more west than south, but I was so far gone that I just let it happen. It was almost as if my legs had detached from my brain. Had I known where they were taking me…" he shook his head and broke off as the memories rose up in him together with a wave of nausea.

He felt Ginny's hand slip into his, and she scooted closer to him.
"Is it bad?"

Harry turned to her and nodded, averting his gaze.

Ginny didn't reply. For a long time they simply lay still, hand in hand. He felt a surge of gratefulness that she didn't push him on, that she allowed him to keep his own tempo and only talk once he was ready for it. That strong emotion, their joined hands, and simply the fact that she was there, next to him, all those things he felt mixed into one inside him, like different kinds of warm honey being stirred together in one pot. His heart swelled, and as he breathed in deeply, he knew that he was ready to continue.

He spared no detail. From the feeling of the leeches sucking him dry, to every touch he'd had to endure of Anoushka. But he saved the revelation of her true motives to the end.

"She was going to slaughter me there," he whispered after he'd reached the end of their fight. Ginny's grip on his hand had tightened more and more until it hurt, but he needed it. He needed that clear reminder that it was over now, that he was home. "Twice, she was about to chop my head off and… and…" His throat threatened to constrict from the raw emotions, but he needed to go on, to tell her everything so that she understood, so that they could finally be on equal footing again. The sunlight shining in through the window had moved considerably on the wall by the time he had arrived at the interrogation with the two policemen.

"I recognised the necklace on the picture that they showed me of her. It was a strange rock with these red dots of gem. I'd held that thing in my hand in Anoushka's shack. It was right there, on top of a large pile of all sorts of things."

He knew that she had connected the dots when her face contorted in disgust.

"All the meat that she'd been feeding you…" she said. Her skin turned faintly green. "That she fed you to fatten you up… How big did you say that pile of trinkets was?"

"Too big." He swallowed. "The policemen were talking about how many people had disappeared here as well over the years. So you know what happened to all of them."

"But you killed her," Ginny said, her voice stronger than before. "You've put a stop to it, right?"

"I don't know," he said. "I don't know where Anoushka came from, how old she was, how she ended up there… Nothing! Yes, I killed her, but who's to say it ends there? Was she a person, or maybe a part of that forest? Does that kind of thing even exist? I don't know!"

Another pause.

"Either way, I doubt I could ever find that hut ever again. Not that I ever want to go back there."

Harry turned to his side and found Ginny looking at him as she was lying on her back.

"So then I was placed in a cell, and a while later Yaxley shows up, giving me the choice to either go with him, or get arrested by the Ministry," he said, continuing the story. "We went to his manor. The same manor where I had those nightmares I told you about earlier. Once we were in there, it suddenly clicked in me, that he watched his father die right before him… and when I looked back at Yaxley, I didn't see the Death Eater and mass murderer, but that same small boy. And Yaxley stabbed me. I lost consciousness, and when I woke up, we were out at sea. Once we were far out enough, he chucked me over the edge."

"And then…"

"A miracle happened," he said, smiling. He stroked the back of her hand with his thumb and she scooted closer. They didn't need words to understand how it had happened that Harry managed to get back to shore. He was reminded of the Department of Mysteries, of the door that was always locked, behind which, Dumbledore had told him, the Unspeakables had stored away the most terrible and incomprehensible power in the universe: love.

And he would never forget even the smallest detail of his swim back to shore, guided by Ginny's light, how the horizon line between Heaven and Earth seemed to have been blurred that night to allow for the impossible to happen. Somewhere in that musing, he felt his eyelids start to droop. Ginny came even closer and laid her head on his shoulder. He breathed in deeply, smelling her flowery scent. Whatever came tomorrow, or the day after, or a lifetime later, could come. But this moment could never be taken away from them.

Harry woke up the next day feeling like he'd lost an enormous weight that he had been carrying around. Telling Ginny everything, and really every single thing, had done him more good than he could have hoped for. He almost wanted to disentangle himself from her warm embrace and get up.

Just as he thought about that, Ginny also began to stir next to him, and she lifted up her head, still looking groggy. She blinked lazily, and then her gaze softened.

"Morning," Harry said in a low voice. "Or, at least I think it's morning."

Ginny giggled and Harry's stomach took that moment to grumble loudly.

"Want to get up?" he asked her.

"Do you?"

"Not if you stay cuddled up next to me like that."

"Mmm, as comfortable as this is, we really should get out of bed. I have to pee."

"Yeah, best not to do that here."

"Unless you're feeling kinky?" Ginny asked, raising one eyebrow. "Oh, just kidding!" she continued when Harry made a retching sound.

When he arrived in the downstairs kitchen a short while later, a mixture of emotions greeted him. It was, for a moment, as if nothing had happened, as if it was just another day where he and Ginny woke up together to go to work.

But there were other memories attached to the room, which had been fundamentally refurbished not too soon after the War. For instance, he remembered leaning against that stove when Ginny had broken up with him, now probably around a decade ago. And he distinctly remembered smashing a porcelain plate next to the dining table when he had first been able to use the Elder Wand.

Ginny arrived in the kitchen behind him and brushed her hand against his back as she passed.

"Tea and toast?" she asked. They were both still dressed in their pyjamas, and the homely sight of her walking up to the counter to grab a kettle and tea bags had the magical effect of driving away those memories instantly. He made to join her at the counter, but she pushed him back to the dining table. "No, you sit down, Harry. Andy said no strenuous activities for at least three days."

As Harry sat down in one of the chairs, he cleared his throat. "Erm – so how have things been here?"

"Not as spectacular," she said, tapping the kettle with her wand to start the boiling. "Of course, it was quite hectic right after you…" she trailed off momentarily, but then resumed, and told him about Hermione's healing process, and then her own attempts at finding him. She, like Harry, did not hold back on the details, and the more she described her and Craig's searches all over Britain, the more he felt a warmth in him spread out that had nothing to do with the tea she'd given him.

He was about to take the toast when grabbed his hand to stop him.

"You've got to take a potion," she said. She pulled out her wand, waved it, and a bottle containing a dark-red coloured potion zoomed into the room from upstairs. "Three times a day, before every meal."

Harry sighed. "I take it it's awful?" he asked. He tilted the bottle sideways and to his dismay he saw that it was barely fluid.

"Shouldn't have gotten your oesophagus cut open, then," Ginny said. She summoned a spoon and took the potion from his hands. They watched, both transfixed, as the mixture blobbed out of the glass container in thick, slow waves.

"Well, then – open up, you," Ginny said with an irritating smile on her face and shoving the spoon in the direction of his mouth.

"I can do it myself, thanks," he snapped, eyeing the spoon warily.

"Don't be silly."

"Ginny, I'd rather not…" Harry said, pausing to find his words as he stared cross-eyed at the spoon hovering close to his mouth, "be force-fed anything that looks like blood or meat."

Ginny's shoulders sagged. "Oh."

"Sorry."

"S'ok." He took the spoon from her limp hand and downed it before he could think better of it. He didn't know what was worse: the warm, iron-rich taste or the feeling of the congealed mass sliding down his throat.

"Anyway," he said after he quickly downed the rest of his tea. "What about the others?"

He pulled a loose note that had been lying on the table to him, recognising Hermione's handwriting. Despite all of Ginny's assurances just now that Ron and Hermione plus baby were fine, he still felt a pang of guilt in his stomach, followed by trepidation. How would they react when they saw him?

"Oh, I forgot to reply to that note, they wanted to come visit soon," Ginny said as soon as she saw it. Harry's stomach twisted. "Ron and Hermione are going as steady as it could go, you know. Good work-family balance, a nice house in the country, just west of Surrey…" she trailed off, frowning.

"And meanwhile you've been here on your own," Harry filled in for her, guessing where her thoughts had wandered to.

Ginny nodded slowly but didn't meet his eye. Then her expression brightened. "Here, I think you'd appreciate this," she said. She stood up, walked towards the fireplace and grabbed a picture from the shelf on top of the hearth. When she sat back down next to him again, she slid it towards him.

He saw the Harpies' training field, that was surrounded by massive poplar trees, and in and out of the frame shot two people on brooms. One he recognised as Ginny, and the other, if possible was even easier to recognise, as per his bubblegum-pink hair.

"You've…" he began, his gaze switching between her and the picture. "You've managed to get Teddy on a broom?"

"I have!" she beamed. "And next year he's going to try out for the Hufflepuff Quidditch team! I reckon he'll be a solid Keeper, you know."

Harry placed down the picture with trembling hands. "Miracles do exist," he breathed. "But how have you managed this?"

Ginny chewed her tongue. "It's not been easy for him, while you were gone. No, Harry, I can see where your thoughts are going, and it's not helping anyone. Let me finish," she said when she saw him grimace. "He had Andy, of course, and his friends, but he was taking it very hard. I figured he just needed to talk about what happened to someone, so I stepped in. Gradually we started talking about other things as well, like school, and then Quidditch of course. Somewhere during those talks he stopped staring at my chest as well," she added, smirking.

"Ginny Weasley," Harry said in a constrained voice. "You are the most wonderful thing in the whole world." He stood up, she followed suit, and then their lips met. His arms found her waist as hers snaked around his back, her lips were soft against his. He felt her breasts against his chest through their thin pyjamas, his arms travelled from her small waist down to her soft buttocks as he pressed himself eagerly against her…

The fireplace roared to life behind them, and they quickly disentangled to see Ron and Hermione tumble out onto the rug in front of it.

"Ginny!" Hermione called. "You didn't reply to our note, and so…"

But then she saw Harry, and she fell silent. She closed and opened her mouth a few times, and Ron stood completely still beside her.

Harry still had one arm around Ginny, but his previous arousal ebbed away in the blink of an eye and was replaced with the aching pain that had slumbered inside him all this time, now that he saw his two oldest, dearest friends staring at him.

Their eyes fitted between Harry and Ginny, and in that split-second Harry feared that they had never forgiven him.

"Harry Potter," Hermione said. Her voice trembled.

"Hermione…" Harry breathed. His hand magnetically found Ginny's. "Ron…"

But then Hermione crossed the room in a few strides. She paused before him, searched for words but found none, and she fell into his arms.

Harry's throat constrained as he embraced her as well. He heard her whimper as her arms tightened around him, and he was barely aware that tears were falling liberally from his eyes.

"I'm so, so sorry," he sobbed, eyes firmly shut. He couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that she would so readily accept him back again after what he'd done to her. But everything about this felt so real, from her tight embrace to the feeling of a sharp knife slashing straight through his heart as they broke down.

"Shush. You're alive," she whispered in his ear. "You're alive, and that's all we care about."

He curled his hands into fists and squeezed her shirt, and with every teardrop that he shed he felt the despair that had lingered permanently on the edge of his consciousness flow out from him.

"I would have given everything, everything," he wept, "to reverse what I did that night."

"I know. I know."

Hermione placed her hands on his shoulders and separated them so that she could look at him. He could see that she had shed as many tears as he had. She opened her mouth to say something, but her bottom lip quivered and she fell back into his embrace.

When they let go of each other, Harry's eyes fell on Ron. He stood beside them, his arms hanging loosely, his jaw clenched and his neck was red as ever.

Words weren't needed. They embraced and slapped each other's backs so hard that it was as if they were trying to injure each other.

"Don't ever do that again," Ron said gruffly.

"I've learnt my lesson."

"You'd better have."

And then they stood there, the three of them, sending watery smiles to each other, but not having the slightest clue what they should say to each other. But it was okay. Everything was alright again as far as Harry concerned.

Ginny had a spring in her step as she darted back to the kitchen. "Two more teas, it is," she said as she set the kettle to work again. "Ron, Hermione, I'm sorry for our state of undress. It's just been such a chaos the past few days that I completely forgot about your note."

"No worries," Hermione said as she dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief.

"Where's Rose, anyway?"

"Mum and Dad are with her," Ron replied as they retreated to the couches and sofas around the fireplace. "It's Sunday, after all."

"They stop by every Sunday," Hermione said, immediately picking up on Harry's slightly dazed look. "Magical transportation is a bit too intense for babies and toddlers. They tend to react very badly to Apparition and Flooing, and sitting on a broom for hours on end is not exactly comfortable for them either."

"What…" Harry began. "What's she like?"

"Rose?" Hermione asked. A smile spread over her face. "She's wonderful, Harry! She's got wispy red hair that curls all over the place…"

"And her mother's face," Ron added. The two turned to each other and shared a sappy look. Harry caught Ginny's eye. She looked away, grinning, and then sat down next to him.

"She has learnt to walk a month or two ago, and since then she's been all over the place, chasing after us wherever we go," Hermione continued.

"She also talks the whole time," Ron took over. Harry's eyes fitted between the two as they took turns to talk to him. The love they showed for their child was plain to see, but it did not help to drive away the nagging knot of guilt that festered in Harry's stomach, no matter how hard he wished he could share in their joy. "It's hilarious, mate, she just keeps blabbing even though she doesn't know any words. All you have to do is look interested at her, say "yeah, that's right" or "really?" every time she takes a breath, and she'll keep it up for hours!"

"She carries her favourite toy around her as well," Hermione said, taking her turn again the moment Ron finished his sentence. "It's a plushie giraffe called Albert that used to," she emphasised while shooting Ron a withering look,"walk around and make giraffe noises. That was until Ron sat on it."

"Will you let it rest already? Rose loves it, she doesn't care if it walks backwards now and sounds like it's choking."

Harry grinned despite himself. Ron caught his expression and asked: "D'you want to introduce yourself to her?"

"Oh," Harry said, his cheeks feeling very hot all of a sudden. "I couldn't, could I?"

"Why not?"

"Cause this prat thinks he doesn't deserve it," Ginny said softly.

The cosy conversation came to an abrupt halt. The only upside was that Ron and Hermione stopped sending each other lovestruck smiles every other second.

"Harry, I…" Hermione said, breaking the silence. "Of course you can come see her! We're family!"

"She's not… affected by it, then?"

"Not at all," she replied. "And neither am I." She grabbed the underside of her jumper and lifted it up to show him his stomach. Harry clenched his jaw, but there was nothing there that hinted at the curse he'd hit her with.

"Although, since she was born, I haven't really lost that bit of…" Hermione said, looking down as she pinched a bit of skin that hung slightly over her belt.

"You really don't mind?" he asked slowly.

"Really," Ron said.

Fifteen minutes later they stood ready at the fireplace. When Harry and Ginny had gone upstairs to get dressed, he paused her as soon as they entered the master bedroom.

"I'm not sure about this," he said.

"I understand, Harry, but you've heard them," Ginny said, glancing at his hands, which were shaking. "They're okay with it. The guilt that you feel, that's all in your head, nothing more."

"But I almost killed–"

"And you've said yourself that there's nothing you regret more," Ginny said firmly. "You're not a killer, Harry, and you won't turn into one either as soon as you see Rose. So c'mon, take a shower, get dressed, and then we can put these thoughts of yours behind."

More tears threatened to spill over the edge. He was surprised he even had some left at this point. "You really are amazing," he said.

"I know," she said as she turned to the closet and pulled her pyjama shirt over her head. "But you need to take a shower."

One part of Harry agreed with her, the other was urging him with impatience to take that bra from her hands before she could put it on, and then…

"We're keeping tonight free of any visitors," he said.

Ginny turned to him as she was strapping up her bra. She had that blazing look in her eye that he loved so much. "Agreed," she said, dead serious. For a moment they stood frozen, staring at each other.

"Shower," Harry said, and he scampered out of the room before things got out of hand.

But when he stepped into the bathroom, he saw his own reflection for the first time in what seemed like ages, and his heart felt like he'd accidentally skipped a step.

How could Ginny ever look at me that way while I look like this? His beard had gotten severely out of control, as had his hair. The tips still had a brown colour to them, from the hair dye that he'd used in Belfast. He also still wore those contacts Damien had bought for him. When he took a good whiff, he still faintly smelt sea water.

He went back into his bedroom for a moment to grab his wand, and then set to work, cutting off his beard and excess hair. He let the magical razor blade that Bill and Fleur had given him for his seventeenth' birthday do the last touches.

He gazed in the mirror after a short shower and thought himself a new man: gone were the beard and the brown hair dye, though the grey patches mixed in with in his dark hair could not be erased. It was a shame, too, that he only had an old, battered spare pair of glasses which had been gathering dust in Grimmauld place for several years. But he felt it was preferable to be able to see and have his true eye colour back.

"Much better," Ginny grinned when he came into the bedroom again.

"Thanks. Can't make the wrong impression to Rose, can I?"

"I don't know about that, you know," Ginny said, looking thoughtful. "This one time George visited, he was disguised with long white hair and beard, pretending to her that he was her long-lost great-granddad. I think she still misses him."

"I'm not growing a beard like that again," he said.

"No, you're not," she said, her firm tone hinting that he didn't really have a choice in this matter anyway.

And then they went downstairs and Flooed to Ron and Hermione's house, Harry last.

"We've talked to Mum and Dad," Ron said before stepping into the fireplace. "So don't worry about giving them a heart attack."

A minute later, Harry tumbled out onto a wooden floor. He barely had time to take in his surroundings before he was engulfed in a hug by Mrs Weasley, and his vision was filled with a lot of greying red hair.

"Harry Potter," she said, appraising him when they separated. "You've left us for so long only one time before…" Harry's insides squirmed guiltily. "But no matter what happens, dear, we'll always welcome you back with open arms."

"I'm not planning to do a stunt like this ever again," Harry said, finding it hard to smile at her. But she seemed to understand, for she patted his cheek. And then Mr Weasley approached him and embraced him as well.

"It's good to have you back, son," he said. He also cast a glance up and down Harry, once or twice lingering on his grey patches. "The Ministry's still searching for you."

"I know," Harry said.

"It's been hard for us to know what has really been going on," he continued, gazing intently at Harry. "Kingsley arrested, an arrest warrant for you… We weren't quite sure if it was time to reform the Order of the Phoenix–"

"Arthur!" Mrs Weasley warned him "There are no Aurors here, and Harry has just come back. Now's not the time for this."

Harry's stomach felt as though he'd just drank firewhisky, and he smiled in gratitude at Mrs Weasley. Plans of reconciliation had been vague in his mind while on the run, and were always marred by the thought of rejection. But those doubts were now finally starting to

"Of course," Mr Weasley said. "We'll talk about this soon, then."

Harry nodded. "Very soon. I've, erm… got a lot to tell you."

"But not now, dear," Mrs Weasley said. "We've heard a little, but it's for another time. Come, let's… let's sit down."

And then Harry was able to look around the house. The many books adorning the walls suggested that Hermione had the most say in the decoration. There was one small window to his right, with light red curtains hanging next to it. The small room was filled with a couch and sofas, all directed towards the fireplace. There was a child's seat next to the couch. And from the door opposite Harry walked in Hermione, a child balanced on her arm, who was looking away from him, back to where they came from. She had one hand stuffed in her mouth, and was slowly nibbling on the tiny fist.

"Look, Rosie," Hermione said softly, her head close to her. She pulled the hand from her mouth with a soft 'pop'. "That man right there? No, not Grandpa Arthur, look there!" Rose then turned to Harry and regarded him curiously with hazel brown eyes. "That's Uncle Harry."

Hermione set her on the wooden floor, and carefully let go when she looked stable enough. Harry was keenly aware of the Weasleys' eyes on the procession.

"Want to go say hi to him, Rosie?" Hermione asked. "Show him what you've learnt?"

But Rose's attention seemed to be divided between him and the room where she'd came from.

"I left Albert in the kitchen," Hermione said, looking troubled. "Don't worry, Harry, she's usually a bit shy when meeting new…"

But then Rose turned back to Harry, and carefully, almost toppling over twice, she crossed the room towards him. Harry kneeled down and opened his arms for her.

"Hello Rose," he said when she reached him. He hugged her lightly and rubbed her head. Their eyes met, Rose still looking up at him, her eyes filled with curiosity. "You're beautiful, aren't you?"

She babbled a short but incomprehensible reply, and then extended her tiny hands to his face. Harry leaned down, and she tugged the slightly broken old glasses from his face.

"Rosie," Ron said warningly, but Harry didn't mind.

"Ugly thing, isn't it?" he asked her as she jabbed at one of the lenses. "Yeah, I don't like it either. I'll need it back though, sadly." He gently pulled it from her grasp again. Rose's gaze followed his movements. Then she stuck her arm back in her mouth, and then turned back to her mother when she reappeared holding Albert, the smiling plushie giraffe.

"Go on," Harry said softly to her. "Go get Albert."

Rose babbled something that vaguely could sound like "Albie", and she stumbled back to Hermione. She met her toy halfway there, and she clutched her small fist around Albert, who was shuffling backward, emitting disturbing choking and retching noises as if it were desperately gasping for breath. When Harry looked up at the other people in the room, he was keenly aware of the wetness in his eyes. He quickly wiped it away but couldn't help but join in their infectious laughter.

"That was nice," Harry said that evening, when he and Ginny returned from Ron and Hermione's place.

"What did I tell you?" Ginny said in amusement. She quickly set to work washing the few dishes from earlier that day. Harry leaned against the table and watched her at work. "You had nothing to worry about."

"Yeah," he said, his gaze becoming unfocused for a moment as he considered how many hours of sleep he had lost over these worries.

"It's all lost sleep for nothing," she continued, once again displaying her uncanny ability to know what he was thinking about. "Not that you should beat yourself up over that as well, but…" She stacked the clean and dried plates up and with a flick of her wand she sent them to their place in the cupboard.

"It's not good to let the stress have that much power over you," Harry finished for her.

"Exactly."

"They seem happy, don't they? Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, they really are," Ginny said. Her grip on her wand slacked for a moment, and the glasses, which were washing itself, fell still for a moment. "Having Rose really did them good. They've settled into their parent roles really well. That helped, as well as Ron quitting his Auror job." There was a wistful tone in her voice.

"I want to see Teddy soon," Harry said, hoping to change the subject.

"Definitely. He's in Hogwarts, though, and his exams are coming up, so it'll probably be a while before we can see him."

"When's the next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"After the exams. I think it's the tenth of June, but I'll have to check."

"Thanks." He wanted to say to her that he would be going to Hogwarts soon again, but he didn't want a reminder of the tasks that lay ahead of them to tarnish the end of what had truly been a marvellous day. Apart from his short conversation with Mr Weasley, they hadn't mentioned Lord Castlereagh, the Ministry, or Yaxley at all, and he intended to keep it that way just a little longer.

Ginny washed her hands and dried them off, and she turned to Harry with a glint in her eye. He was again

"We said we'd keep tonight for ourselves, didn't we?" she asked.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. "Why, Miss Weasley, I do believe we did."

"Then we'd better make use of that."

She only just finished that sentence before they reached each other, and their lips met. His hands found her waist, and he felt her hands run through his untidy hair.

"I like it shorter," she whispered, breaking their kiss for a moment.

Harry pulled back. "You did say you preferred girth."

He gasped as her grip on his hair tightened.

"Shall we move this upstairs?"

"Yes," Harry said, his teeth clenched. "And could you…" her grip slacked a bit. "Thanks."

"One thing, though," she said in a low voice as they walked upstairs. His hand had already gravitated towards her bum, and he relished in kneading her soft, warm buttocks. "Andy specifically told me that you can do no strenuous activities."

"Mm, I was planning on a few of those, though," Harry murmured. They reached the top step. He squeezed her bum. "But what Andy doesn't know won't hurt her."

They reached the door to the master bedroom. The eager anticipation had become more and more intense, and Harry yearned to take off his pants, to free his restrained erection…

Ginny opened the door and pushed him inside.

"I take my role as Healer very seriously, you know," she murmured, sliding her finger from his jaw, down to his neck and to his chest. "You've been so awfully injured…"

"What do you propose?" Harry breathed, taking his eyes of her hand, which had started fiddling with the buttons of his shirt, to meet her smouldering gaze.

Ginny pushed him backward, further into the room, until his legs met the bed.

"I propose you lay down," she said, ripping his shirt open more and raking her hands over the exposed skin, "… and let Healer Weasley do her thing."