Disclaimer: I don't own 'em!
Summary: Harry discovers that there's a silver lining in every cloud, but why does he keep getting sick?
Growing Pains, by Shedoc
Hagrid took Harry from the Weasley's arms and ushered him out after the retreating Wizengamot. The Aurors were ushering and spluttering Vernon and Petunia out a side door, Dudley still in silent shock at the verdict handed down by the court of Wizards. They would pay a large annual sum to Harry's account in damages for the next five years. More importantly to Harry, he had been made an emancipated minor, which meant that he no longer required an adults permission to live where he wanted, and was no longer restricted by the Decree of Underage Wizardry. Ron had cheered under his breath in Harry's ear, and the green-eyed teen had smiled at his mate affectionately.
Hagrid's broad back was protecting Harry from the spectators and the press, and when the door closed behind them, Harry swung around to grin at his half giant friend.
"I'm emancipated!" he crowed, "It was worth it to be given that!"
"Are ye sure, Harry?" Hagrid's eyes were shadowed, but Harry had a pretty good idea why.
"Of course I am! Don't you see, Hagrid, no more miserable summers. And I can sign my own permission forms!"
Even Hagrid had to laugh at that, and he engulfed Harry in a very warm, rough hug. What he didn't say was expressed in the gesture and Harry patted the chest he was being crushed to in understanding.
"Yer parents would be proud of you, Harry," Hagrid muttered, "An'… yer godfather would be too."
"Thanks," the word was muffled, but heartfelt, and Hagrid let him go. The half giant led the way to the stairs.
"I don't fit in the lifts so well," he explained sheepishly and Harry laughed, willing to trudge up as many flights as he had to if it meant that he could get out of being squashed into a lift with nosy strangers. The Weasley's had already made plans with Dumbledore to take Harry and Ron home for the weekend, and he knew he was to meet them in the foyer near the fountain that the Ministry had unfortunately restored after the battle with the Death Eaters. Harry had the feeling that by the time the Daily Prophet got through with him he'd need the peace and quiet.
As luck would have it, they beat the Weasley's to the foyer, and Harry waited, half hidden behind Hagrid for his friend to arrive. There seemed to be quite a few people milling about aimlessly, and Harry wondered what else was going on at the Ministry to garner such a crowd. He was about to ask Hagrid when the lift opened and the Weasley's stepped out, looking grim, followed by the Dursley's. Hagrid stifled something that sounded like a chuckle and Harry smiled ruefully. Molly and Arthur would have had a hard time of it, suppressing the remarks they wanted to make in order to be good examples to their son. Ron would have been in a similar quandary - the redhead had a blazing temper when roused, as Harry knew.
He moved out from behind Hagrid, touching his friend on the arm in thanks, and headed for his friend. Ron spotted him and grinned a little anxiously, even as Dudley spotted him and scowled. He grunted something to his father, who turned and gave Harry such a scathing glare that had he been in Little Whinging, Harry would have run for his life. As it was, there wasn't much the Dursley's could do to him now that he was allowed to defend himself magically, though he didn't want to cause trouble by hexing them. He was better than that.
There was a shout and something shattered behind Aunt Petunia. Harry whirled in shock, pulling his wand and turning to face whoever had cast that spell. The crowd of people that had been milling in the foyer were either shouting in astonishment or getting undressed?
"Death Eaters!" Harry shouted, the grey robes and white masks sending a thrill of panic along his spine. The Dursley's were defenceless against these twisted men and women who considered Muggle torture a sport, and there was no way he wanted the Weasley's in contact with them either, especially Ron.
Time seemed to slow as Harry sent a disarming spell at the man who'd missed Petunia. He noticed that Hagrid was running forward, and sent a second spell at the nearest Death Eater, protecting the Grounds Keeper from his would be attacker. Sound returned to Harry with a rush, and there was a roar of power as the fountain in the middle of the foyer exploded, chunks of it flying everywhere. A glance showed that the Weasley's were protecting the Muggles, trying to drag the panicked trio towards the stairs that Hagrid was defending. It was the safest avenue of retreat there was at the moment, and Harry whirled into the chaos of shouting Death Eaters and civilians, doing his best to buy them time.
He moved fluidly through the chaos, dodging spells and curses that flew at him from all directions. He threw hexes of his own, used chunks of the fountain as missiles, threw a few punches and kicks that connected solidly, whirling and striking with all the grace of a lethal predator as his instincts took over. The chaos became his weapon, and he directed it the way a conductor directs a symphony, his magic surging to give his casting an edge over the adults he battled. Some small part of him noted that the Muggles and the Weasley's were safely away, with Hagrid following them. Aurors battled alongside him, and there were a few small piles of robes where a Witch or Wizard had succumbed to the magic flying about. He was very pleased to note that there were more grey lumps than any other colour and when the Death Eaters suddenly disappeared, leaving behind their fallen, it took Harry a moment to recollect himself.
"Harry?" Dumbledore's voice was cautious, and Harry turned slowly, wand pointing at the ceiling, his school robes swirling as he pivoted. His hearing seemed to return to normal and the moans of the injured and orders of the Healers and Aurors sunk in. He took a shuddering breath, the adrenaline rush leaving him shaken and unsteady on his feet, though he was determined not to show weakness to the Headmaster.
"Sir? Are the Weasley's safe? What about the Muggles? How's Hagrid?"
"Fine dear boy, they're just fine," Dumbledore was watching him with wary eyes, "You're unhurt?"
"Yes," Harry nodded shortly and swept the area once more for threats before lowering his wand, then tucking it away. The Headmaster gave him a small smile of relief.
"We'd best get you away, then," he murmured, "That was a most impressive piece of duelling, Mr Potter."
"Thanks," Harry said shortly, more interested in finding Ron and his parents. He wouldn't be able to relax until he had Ron safe and whole in his arms.
0o0o0o0o0o0
When Dumbledore suggested to Molly that Harry come back to Hogwarts and have Madam Pomfrey look him over, he was met with the iciest refusal he'd ever had in his life - Harry could see it in his eyes. Molly drew herself up and stated that she was as capable as looking after bumps and bruises as the next mother and Ron ushered Harry away towards the nearest fireplace with Molly fuming at their backs. Arthur went through first, and Harry was told to go next.
Arthur caught him as he fell from the fireplace and Harry grimaced. He hated fire travel above all other forms of transport. Even the Knight Bus was preferable to spinning around through sooty heated air. His body was starting to report in, small aches and pains that made him uncomfortable and very glad to sit down. His right ankle was particularly painful and as Ron stepped out of the fireplace, Harry stretched his leg out with a grimace.
"Harry?" Ron hurried over and bent to kiss him on the cheek, "What's wrong?"
Harry was so startled by the kiss that he gaped at his boyfriend wordlessly. He'd always thought that if they were going to reveal their relationship to the Weasley's that they'd do it properly, not with a kiss.
"I wrote them ages ago," Ron seemed to understand what the problem was, which was one of the many things Harry loved about him. Harry leaned up and pecked Ron on the cheek in reply just as Molly stepped out of the fireplace, and she beamed at them kindly.
"He's hurt, mum," Ron dobbed Harry in straight away, "His ankle, and his left hand."
Harry glanced at his hand and was surprised to see his knuckles were torn and swollen. He had a vague memory of throwing several punches and hexes in opposite directions, which would explain it. Molly had his shoe off by now and was clucking over his ankle.
"I think it's sprained, dear," she told him, "Arthur, call Healer Reynolds and see if he can make a house call. Better to be safe than sorry."
"I thought I didn't need a Healer," Harry grinned cheekily and she snorted at him in derision.
"If you think that I am for one minute going to allow Albus Dumbledore to dictate your welfare again, then you must have hit your head in all that fighting," there was starch in her voice, "I know that you're emancipated and everything now, Harry, but I hope that you'll still let me mother you a little."
"Be an honour," Harry mumbled, flushing. Molly was the closest he'd ever had to a mother, and the fact that she was willing to take him on, baggage and all, meant a lot to him, "You and Mr Weasley are the best parents I could have."
"Thank you Harry," Arthur put a hand on Harry's shoulder while Ron beamed at his boyfriend from behind his mother, "Healer Reynolds is on his way, Molly. Why don't I help Harry upstairs to his old room."
"Can't he stay with me?" Ron protested immediately, which saved Harry from having to do it. He didn't want to be alone right now, and Ron was the best medicine he could imagine.
"Too many stairs for that ankle, and its closer to the bathroom," Arthur vetoed that idea, and Harry gave in. The tall man took a lot of his weight up the stairs and settled Harry in the chair at Percy's old desk. Harry pulled his wand out of his robes and then undid the fastenings. He was covered in dust and soot, and sweat from the fight and travelling, and didn't want to dirty Molly's clean sheets. He pulled off his other shoe and stood balancing on one leg to take off his robes, school jumper and tie. He untucked his shirt as well before sitting down again. Molly came in with a basin of water and some towels and started washing his face in such a matter of fact way that he didn't have time to be embarrassed by the attentions. She cleaned and bandaged his hand, clucked over his bruises and rubbed some kind of paste onto them, then started on the buttons of his school shirt.
"Er," Harry put his hands over hers, "I can manage, thanks."
She kissed his cheek and left the room with the basin over water. He changed quickly into the pyjamas on the bed and then scooted back so his leg was raised. That made the throbbing ease a little, as did the cold cloth that Molly came back with. Ron followed her in, dressed in casual clothes and climbed onto the bed with Harry, sitting so Harry's foot was elevated in his lap. The redhead rubbed Harry's shin idly while Molly sat in the chair that Harry had vacated and asked what had happened when the Death Eaters attacked. Harry described as much of the blur as he was able.
"Thanks for taking the Dursley's to safety," he ended his halting recount and Ron snorted.
"Yeah well, as tempting as it was to hex them and blame the Death Eaters," he muttered and Molly gave him the evil eye. Harry grinned in sympathy. The prospect of hexing that particular Muggle family was very attractive. Arthur knocked, and led Healer Reynolds into the room. Harry remembered the thin Healer from his bout of pneumonia, and smiled a hello. He remembered that this particular Healer was quite cranky with his patients, though he was apparently one of the best. Everyone had their little idiosyncrasies apparently, and that was his.
"What have you been up to this time, young man?" Reynolds asked sourly and ran his wand over Harry from head to toe. He pronounced his ankle sprained and one of his knuckles broken, which explained why his hand hurt so much. He rebandaged Harry's hand and then attended to his ankle. While Wizards could heal such things quickly with the use of magic, it was always recommended by Healers that the body did as much of its own healing as possible. Too much magical healing could make the body forget how to take care of itself. Harry was told to stay in bed until Saturday morning and see Madam Pomfrey first thing Monday morning. Arthur and Molly ushered the dour man out, and Ron moved up the bed to cuddle Harry into his arms.
"I'm only going to bring this up once, mate," Ron said quietly, "I'm sorry I never knew what you went through, and I'm sorry I never managed to find a way to keep you out of that house. You did a grand job of raising yourself, but even knowing that you were a house elf for those Muggles doesn't change the way I feel about you."
Harry wrapped his boyfriend in a relieved, bone-crushing hug. Ron didn't seem to mind.
0o0o0o0o0o0
Harry insisted on going downstairs for breakfast the next morning, and Ron was happy to help him negotiate the stairs. The kitchen was as warm and welcoming as always and Harry settled onto his seat happily. Molly and Arthur were both bustling around, Molly making breakfast and Arthur setting the table and tidying away the weekly accumulation of papers and odds and ends that the kitchen seemed to garner every week. Ron set the table, and Harry 'helped' by offering suggestions that were not really welcome. The Weasley's were grinning at him though, and the four of them sat down to their breakfast in a light-hearted mood.
Hedwig arrived halfway into breakfast and landed on Harry's shoulder, hooting anxiously and plucking at his hair. Molly clucked her tongue in exasperation and Harry made his owl go sit on the windowsill. Molly didn't approve of the way he spoiled his bird, though she was far too polite to come out and say so. He did his best to make sure that Hedwig behaved in company, and let her ride his shoulder or sit on his knee when they were alone.
Shortly after she settled, a stream of owls arrived at the window, all of them trying to land in front of Harry with their burden of paper. It wasn't hard to guess what the rolled cylinders were, and Harry took the magazines and newspapers from the owls as quickly as he could, an anxious feeling spoiling his appetite for breakfast.
"Well, best to know the worst straight away," Arthur took the nearest magazine and undid the tie, unfurling it and looking over the cover quickly before turning to the article in question.
"Well?" Molly asked, and Arthur put the magazine down, his face grave, but not too upset. Harry took that as a goood sign.
"Wizard Weekly - good solid article about the duel, and a mention of your emancipated status. They explained the trial and the circumstances that led to it, but didn't give any details of the hearing," he took another magazine and Molly picked one up as well.
On the whole, the weekly and monthly publications - all of whom had done a 'special' on the trial and the events that followed it - treated him with dignity. While some made more of the treatment he'd received at the hands of his Muggle Aunt and Uncle than others, none of them actually detailed the more embarrassing things, though plenty alluded to it in vague terms. Witch Weekly mentioned the possibility of getting Harry's breakfast recipes for a later issue, which made everyone smile for a moment.
"That's not too bad," Ron said encouragingly when they'd taken a tally of the articles. Harry shook his head and held up the Daily Prophet, still rolled tightly in its original tie.
"This will be," Harry's voice was grim, and he took a steadying breath before opening the paper. The headlines made him blush, and he didn't have the nerve to read further. The accompanying photo was the first picture that Colin Creevy had taken of him - he looked rather stunned and stupid in it.
"Potters knotted pants! Boy Who Lived or House Elf?" Ron sputtered and his mother snatched it from his hands. Harry hid in Ron's neck, and listened as the Weasley's sputtered and muttered over the accompanying article. Ron didn't bother reading the paper any further, turning all of his attention to comforting Harry once more.
"…a Howler!" Molly was exclaiming as she strode for her writing desk while Arthur burned the paper in the stove, his face positively thunderous. Harry was very glad that look wasn't aimed at him. Molly may be the more vocal of Ron's parents, but Arthur was just as strong willed and volatile.
"Don't you worry, Harry," Arthur bent over to rub Harry's head gently, "We'll sort them out."
"Thanks Mr Weasley," Harry looked up gratefully, "It means a lot that you'll try."
"Try heck! We'll have them out of business if I have anything to say about it!" Molly spluttered from where she was writing, "Ron, take him outside for a while. The tree house will be in the sun right now."
"Yes mum," Ron said straight away, "Come on Harry, you've never seen the tree house."
The tree house was built into an old willow by the pond that was fed by a stream that passed the Burrow. The tree itself had grown into the tree house, so that the branches interlocked together to form living walls and roof. Harry gaped at it in astonishment.
"The rule is that if you have friends over in the hols, you leave the tree house to the rest of the family, that's why you've never seen it," Ron chuckled at his gaped amazement, "And there are anti Muggle spells on it because the whole thing is built with magic."
To get up there, Harry had to stand on a pebble and enlarge it until he could - with Ron's help - step into the tree house itself. Being emancipated meant that the ban on magic outside of school was lifted for Harry, much to Ron's jealousy. Harry knew that Ron envied the freedom he now had, not the circumstances that led to it, and didn't take offence.
There were faded cushions on the floor, and Harry enlarged them too, so they were comfortable. It helped that Ron rolled them so Harry was lying on his back and then planted himself partially on top of him. Harry loved being pinned under Ron's weight and grinned at the redheaded teen appreciatively, sending one hand under his thick winter robes to play suggestively with Ron's arse while the other stroked his shoulders and chest lightly. The sun was indeed warming the tree house, and though it was nippy outside, right now they were warm and comfortable.
"You up for some hanky panky?" Harry asked lightly, and Ron rubbed his groin onto Harry's hip in reply.
"Soon will be," he confirmed in a husky voice, and leaned in for a kiss. Harry loved being kissed by the right Weasley and as that was often all they had time for at school, it was something that they did well. Ron knew how to make Harry moan, and Harry knew how to make Ron gasp. All in all they were champion snoggers.
"More," Ron demanded when he broke for air and lifted himself off Harry. Harry knew what that meant and undid first his fly then Ron's, pushing everything down just enough for bare skin to rub and glide warmly. Ron settled down with a satisfied groan and Harry's hand once more palmed his arse, fingers lightly stroking and squeezing the way they both liked it.
Harry urged Ron to speed up, wanting more of the glorious friction that was making him sweat and shiver in pleasure. Ron was all too happy to oblige, keeping his movements tender as he did, seeking pleasure by giving it. With his ankle, Harry couldn't really brace himself and return the favour, but this was just as nice.
"Oh!" Ron gasped, burying his face in Harry's neck and grinding them together. Harry felt himself explode in delight, Ron's gift bathing his already sticky and slippery groin, both of them crying out softly. They panted for breath in the aftermath, and Harry used his natural magic to clean them both up so that they wouldn't stick together. Ron mumbled in appreciation and shifted enough to do their pants back up before rolling onto his back and pulling Harry to lie on top of him, cuddling the green eyed teen close and humming in sated pleasure. Harry yawned sleepily and decided a nap was in order.
0o0o0o0o0o0
"What's the worst that can happen?" Mrs Weasley asked, her eye knowing as Harry hesitated on the hearth. He'd been quiet all day, not wanting to contemplate the reaction of the school to the news articles that were even now raging in the press. The Daily Prophet had come in for some pretty harsh criticism in the aftermath of its sensation seeking articles. Molly hadn't been the only person to send the paper an outraged Howler, and Harry hoped that the editor had fire insurance.
"They can tease him from now to graduation," Ron said gloomily. He'd also been worried about the schools reaction, mainly because he'd be the one dealing with a grumpy Harry. Harry saw Molly's sympathetic acknowledgement in her eyes, and the determination in Ron's and squared his own shoulders in response.
"I can live with that," he gave his boyfriend's mother a crooked grin and took a handful of powder, "Professor Dumbledore's office!"
The green flames swirled around him, and he tucked his elbows in nervously. He hated fire travel and no amount of practice or experience would ever convince him otherwise. The landing made his ankle buckle, and strong hands caught him neatly, supporting him over to a seat nearby before he could even get his bearings. He caught his breath and looked up into the sharp eyes of his Head of House. Her hands were still on his shoulders supportively, and he blushed in confusion.
"Sorry, Professor," he cleaned his glasses nervously as Ron emerged from the fire, and hurried to his side.
"He sprained his ankle at the Ministry," Ron blurted before McGonagal could reply, and there was a tsking sound from behind the Witch in emerald robes. Madam Pomfrey brushed the Professor aside and whipped her wand out. Harry winced in anticipation but held still.
"I was told to come see you tomorrow," he told the matron, and she nodded absently, concentrating on her casting. Ron and Professor McGonagal were in a sort of huddle on the other side of the hearth, and Harry hoped that whatever they were planning wouldn't be too embarrassing. The Headmaster was standing behind Pomfrey, watching the school Healer with sharp eyes.
"I want you to rest that ankle, Potter. I'll give you some crutches tomorrow, and a note to excuse you from certain activities," Pomfrey muttered, "You're to go straight to your dorm and lie down, I'll send an elf with your dinner. I suppose I'd better include a meal for Mr Weasley too?"
"Yes please Matron," Ron said politely from where he stood, and Harry smiled at her in thanks. She sniffed and stepped back. Harry felt quite a shock when he realised that the school matron and his Head of House were here, not to talk to him, but to support him while the Headmaster had his say.
"I don't quite know what to say, Harry," Dumbledore said softly after a long pause, "I'm sorry seems so inadequate."
"Unless you personally instructed the Dursley's to act that way, it's also pointless," Harry shrugged, "I'm fine sir, and I don't blame you for this."
"You should," Harry wasn't sure which of the two Witches muttered it, but the comment hung in the air unchallenged. It appeared that the staff had diverse opinions on the information that he'd been forced to reveal in his trail.
"Needless to say," Dumbledore said at length, just as the silence verged on uncomfortable, "If you have any problems with the students, you're to come to me at once, Harry."
"Thank you, sir," some sort of response was clearly expected, but Harry wasn't sure what else he could say. His relationship with Dumbledore had forever changed, and Harry wasn't sure if this was a good or bad thing. Only time would tell that.
"Off you go then," McGonagal urged, and Harry stood obediently, letting Ron slip an arm around his waist and support him out of the office and its trio of tense adults. He stole a kiss from the redhead as the stairs carried them down, and Ron squeezed him affectionately as they stepped off.
0o0o0o0o0o0