[A/n: i'm so sorry for the delay! i've been incredibly busy - uni has ended and i'm graduating in less than two weeks (!) so i've been out a lot, trying to enjoy my last couple weeks before i have to get back the Real Life. i've also had a massive writer's block, but hopefully that should be better now...

an additional note: i'm not very comfortable writing explicit scenes, so i've chosen not to do it. i'm sorry if that disappoints anyone, but harry and ginny are consenting and in a healthy relationship here, so feel free to fill in the blanks in your mind. (also, just because i don't write it explicitly doesn't mean it doesn't happen...)

sorry for the delay, thanks for being so lovely, and please let me know what you think of it!]

x.

"Alright, alright," Kingsley declared, causing the rest of the courtroom, who had been whispering to each other in increasingly loud tones, "that's enough. Order in the court, please."

Next to him, Harry heard as Hermione drew in a deep breath.

"After much deliberation," Kingsley said, and his voice seemed to echo in the crowded room, "the Wizengamot have found Corban Yaxley to be guilty of all charges, and he is sentenced to a lifetime in Azkaban, without the possibility of an early release."

The courtroom broke into applause, but Harry didn't say anything. He felt almost numb, even though he could feel Hermione squeeze his arm next to him. This was it, then. Yaxley's was the very last trial.

Kingsley waited as the Hitwizards to take the sneering figure of Yaxley away; if Harry hadn't known him as well as he did, he didn't think he would've noticed the slight glint of happiness in his eyes.

"Do you think our testimony helped?" Hermione asked, and Harry turned to look at her and Ron.

"I'd bloody well hope so," Ron said, moving to wrap his arm around her shoulders.

Harry couldn't help but agree. It would be very, very frustrating, if their testimonies hadn't been useful. All of these weeks of testimonies had left him feeling permanently exhausted, the sort of tiredness that seeped into his bones. It didn't help that he and Ron had been at the Ministry nearly every day, meeting with Kingsley and Gawain Robards, occasionally accompanied by Hermione. Gawain was convinced that Ron and Harry needed to justify every single thing they suggested with examples of how it worked against Death Eaters in real life ("I'm going to need several more reasons why you think it's worth teaching prospecting Aurors about bloody Expelliarmous, Potter") and, while Harry was sure he had his reasons, it ended up in him being exhausted.

"Well. That's it, then," he said, once the Hitwizards had taken Yaxley away. "No more trials."

"No more trials," Hermione agreed. Slowly, the three of them got to their feet, making their way out of the courtroom and towards the elevators.

"Have you heard from the Aurors about your parents?" Harry asked Hermione, who shook her head.

"No, I haven't. But, you know, now that the trials are over…" Hermione fidgeted, playing with her hands nervously.

Harry raised his eyebrows, and then realised what she was dancing around. "You want to go look for them yourself?"

"Not by herself," Ron put in.

Harry suppressed the urge to roll his eyes. "Yeah, I know, mate."

"Well, I just think… I'd be better at tracking them down than the Aurors," Hermione said tentatively. "I'm the one that did the memory charm, I left a few hints when they were suggestible, so I think I know where they'd go…" She trailed off, looking quite nervous.

Harry nodded slowly. He thought about it for a moment and then looked at Ron. "You should speak to Gawain."

Ron looked startled. "I should? Why?"

"Because we're technically working for him now, aren't we? You should tell him you want to go to Australia. Make sure he's okay with it," Harry said.

A slow look of relief spread onto Ron's face. "So… you're fine with it?"

"Course I'm fine with it," Harry said, nonplussed. "Why wouldn't I be? No, don't answer that," he said, seeing the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces. He didn't want to deal with their concern, didn't want to listen to them telling him he'd been overworking himself, even though it wasn't exactly inaccurate.

"I'll speak to Robards," Ron said, instead of responding to Harry's question. "Tell him he has to deal with your sorry arse by himself for a bit."

Harry grinned at that and stepped into the elevator. "Think he'll manage it?" he asked dryly.

"I think so, yeah," Ron said, and then added, in an unsettlingly accurate impression of Gawain, "'you're not going to get special treatment just because your friends are away, Potter, let's get to work now.'"

Harry and Hermione laughed, and they followed Ron to the fireplaces once they left the elevator.

"That reminds me," Ron added, once their laughter had faded, "try not to, you know. Do too much funny business with Gin when we're away." He was still smiling, but the look in his eyes was serious.

Harry couldn't suppress the urge to roll his eyes this time. "Merlin's sake," he muttered, reaching out to grab a handful of Floo powder. As he called out the Burrow and stepped into the fireplace, he could hear Hermione say, "Ron, I said to say it gently—"

That evening, after dinner, Mr. Weasley said, "Harry, can I have a word?"

Guiltily, Harry moved his hand off Ginny's thigh, even though it was hidden under the table, and nodded. "Yeah—course," he nodded.

From the look on Ginny's face, he could tell she was trying not to smile. "See you after," she murmured to him, kissing his cheek before she got up.

Harry stood up from the table and followed Mr. Weasley. He'd thought they'd go to the living room, but, to his surprise, Mr. Weasley led him out of the shop, towards the old shed. Harry had a sudden memory of speaking to Dumbledore here the summer before his sixth year, of Dumbledore saying that OWL results would arrive soon and he would be taking private lessons with him this year.

"Is everything alright?" Mr. Weasley asked.

Harry shook his head quickly to try and clear his mind. "Yeah. Yeah, sorry," he said. And then, without meaning to, he added, "I was just thinking about Dumbledore."

"About Dumbledore?" Mr. Weasley repeated. Even in the dim light of the shed, Harry could make out him raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah. He, er. He brought me here a couple years ago." Harry felt a bit stupid, saying it like that.

Mr. Weasley only nodded. He waved his wand, and the shed was lit up with his wandlight.

"So," Harry said. He really, really did not want to talk about Dumbledore now. "What did you want to talk about, Mr. Weasley?"

"You know, you can call me Arthur," Mr. Weasley said mildly. "There were a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about. I thought it would be best if we spoke in private."

Harry slowly nodded.

"The first matter," Mr. Weasley – Arthur – said, "is about your motorbike."

"My motorbike?" Harry asked.

"Sirius's motorbike. Which he left to you," Arthur said.

Harry remembered crashing into Andromeda's grounds, remembered the pale, angry face of Voldemort, the way his wand had defended him, how terrified he'd been. "Right," he said.

"Well, I've been repairing it," Arthur told Harry proudly. "Since that night. Even managed to smuggle it to Muriel's with me. And it's nearly finished."

Harry wasn't sure why he was telling him all of this. "That's great," he finally said.

Arthur seemed to take pity on him. "It is your bike, Harry," he said, reaching out and patting Harry's shoulder. It was such a small touch but was so gentle and fatherly that Harry seemed oddly close to tears. "I was wondering what your plans for it were. If you wanted to share them with me, that is."

"Oh, er – I dunno. You can keep it, Mr. Weasle—Arthur," Harry said.

"Of course not. It's yours, Harry. Sirius wanted you to have it," Arthur said.

"I, er – I don't know what I would do with a motorbike," Harry said.

Arthur was quiet for a moment, and then asked, "Did you ever learn how to ride it? Or to drive?"

"No," Harry said. The Dursleys would have rather died than let Harry touch their pristine white car, and Hogwarts didn't teach that sort of thing.

"Ah," Arthur said. "Well, Molly doesn't approve of motorcycles. She thinks they're unsafe Muggle contraptions."

Harry didn't think Mrs. Weasley was wrong.

"But," Arthur added, "I can teach you how to ride them. It's easy, and not much more unsafe than riding a broomstick."

"Really?" Harry said.

"Of course. It's your bike, Harry. I'm sure you'll pick it up in no time. And you'll need a way to get to the Ministry when you don't want to Apparate or take the Floo," Arthur reasoned.

"I, er… thank you," Harry said, quite touched. "That'd be nice."

"Of course. It's no problem. Who do you think taught Fred and George to drive the car?" Arthur said, eyes twinkling. This was the first time, Harry thought, that Arthur had mentioned Fred without his face falling immediately afterwards.

"Thank you," Harry said again.

Arthur waved away Harry's words. "It's no problem. Molly also… wanted me to have a word. About Ginny," he said.

Harry's palms felt a bit sweaty. He supposed this was overdue. "Right," he said.

"Well, we are both given to believe that you two are… involved," Arthur said. He looked as uncomfortable as Harry felt.

"I, uh. Yeah," Harry said. He took a deep breath, and kept his gaze fixed firmly on his shoes. "I, um. It's… It's serious," he finally said. He didn't have the words to explain it to Arthur, couldn't say she's the only person who makes everything feel good, couldn't say she was my last thought before I kind of died a little bit, I'm still not sure if I did or not, but he didn't want a repeat of his fight with Ron, didn't want Arthur thinking he was messing around his daughter.

"Yes, I know," Arthur said. Harry risked looking up at him and was surprised to see the small smile on his face. "Molly wanted me to ask about your… intentions. She believes, and I agree, that you both are far too young for marriage."

Harry felt like his entire face was on fire. "I—marriage?" he spluttered.

"Well, yes. You don't intend to get married, do you? Ginny isn't seventeen yet, and you've – granted, you've had to mature a lot the past year, but I still don't believe either of you are ready, and—"

"Mr. Weasley, we're not getting married!" Harry said, louder than he'd meant to say.

"Oh. Oh, good," Arthur said.

They both didn't say anything for a moment and then, slowly, Harry looked up at Arthur. He looked relieved, but there a small twinkle in his eyes, and the corner of his lips were twitching. Suddenly, he burst into laughter. It only took a moment, and then Harry was joining him as well.

"Well," Arthur said, when their laughter had died down a couple of minutes later. He moved to Harry, slinging his arm around his shoulders. "I want you to know that, no matter what happens with you and Ginny, you're very much a part of this family, alright? That won't change," he told him.

Harry felt the relief at Arthur's words in his chest. "Thank you, Mr. Weasley," he said.

"Of course. Molly feels the same way. Now, come on, if we go back we can see if there's any tart left over from dinner," Arthur said. Keeping his arm around his shoulders, he led Harry back into the house, still chortling as he walked.

"So, what did Dad want?" Ginny asked later that night, sitting up from the bed. She leaned down, grabbing Harry's shirt off the floor and tugging it on.

Harry felt torn; on the one hand, he felt principally opposed to Ginny getting dressed again; on the other, he did love seeing her in his clothes. It made the monster in his chest let out a contented little purr.

"Oh," he said, when he realised he still hadn't answered her question. "He said he'd teach me to ride Sirius's bike. Says it's mine now."

Ginny turned to look at him, her eyes glinting as she smirked. "Oh? The Chosen One, riding a motorcycle through London. That'll make Witch Weekly very happy, won't it?" she teased, throwing his underwear to him.

Harry caught them in his left hand, letting out a low groan at her words. "Shut up," he said, but he was grinning at her. "Why are we getting dressed already?" he wanted to know.

Ginny shook her head, but she couldn't hide the way she was smiling. "Midnight fly," she said, like it was obvious. "If you've still got the stamina for it, Potter."

Harry chuckled, pulling on his underwear and standing up to grab some clothes for himself. "He also wanted to know if we're getting married," he told her, as he pulled his jeans on.

Ginny shook her head, grinning. "Mum asked me about it, too. Got all panicky, said we're far too young."

"What'd you say?" Harry asked.

"That it's not happening for a while," Ginny said. "And then she made it a point to say that she doesn't want us to get married, but she does approve of you."

Harry felt warmth bloom in his chest at that. "Your dad said that I'll be part of your family, no matter how things work out with us."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Course. You've been part of the family for years now. Think Ron would miss you even more than I would if you weren't."

Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her gently for a moment. He didn't say anything, but he knew Ginny would be able to tell how oddly emotional he was, how much it meant to him that the Weasleys considered him family.

"Come on, then," Ginny said, and her tone was gentle. "Let's go. I'm about ready to beat your arse in Quidditch." She took his hand, tugging him out of the bedroom with her.

"Don't count on it, Weasley," Harry said, but he already knew, even as they walked downstairs and to the orchard, that he was about to get his arse handed to him by Ginny, who had gotten even better over the last few weeks than she'd been before. And what was more, he was about to thoroughly enjoy it.