Chapter 5: Blessing

Harry followed Ron up the stairs, being as quiet as possible to avoid setting off the portrait of Mrs. Black, which had still not been removed from the front hallway. Ginny and Hermione were right behind him.

"Same rooms as last year, mate," said Ron, opening a door. "G'night, Ginny, glad you're all right. G'night, Hermione."

"Sleep well," Harry said to Ginny.

"Thanks," said Ginny, smiling at him. "Night."

"Good night, Harry, it's wonderful to see you again," said Hermione. "Good night, Ron."

"Night, 'Mione," said Harry as she closed the door behind her.

He looked around the room. The portrait of Phineas Nigellus was gone, but other than that, the room was much the same as it had been last year. Hedwig was on top of the wardrobe again, his trunk was in the corner (one of the twins had probably brought it up when he wasn't paying attention, Harry thought), and there were the same two twin beds. Ron was sitting on one of them, yawning.

"Who else is here?" Harry asked, opening his trunk to look for pajamas and his book.

"Just us at the moment. Lupin said he'd be back tomorrow – today, now – Moody and Tonks and the rest are in and out. Haven't seen Dumbledore or Snape yet, but we only got here a couple days ago. Mum and Dad were Apparating back and forth before then. Harry, what's that?"

Harry had just turned around with Insane Dorm Hall in his hand.

"It's called a book, Ron. There are things called words inside and you can read them."

"Very funny. What are you doing with one of those?"

"A friend sent me an early birthday present," Harry said, flipping the book open to look for his place. He knew he'd been past Lanie's marathon, Erica's (again) unsuccessful theater audition, and met Edith's new martial arts partner Anna, but he didn't remember reading about a 2 AM Rodgers and Hammerstein singing session, whatever that was. He flipped back a few pages and found it – "Late Night Tea Party".

"Harry?"

He looked up. Ron was looking at the book almost shamefacedly.

"Can I maybe borrow one of them?"

"Sure," Harry said, seeing that Ron had fallen under the same spell he had, the spell of a well-told story. "Want to start with number one?"

"Yeah. Undecipherable Seminar or whatever it's called."

"Indecipherable, but you were close." Harry pulled book one out of his cauldron and tossed it to Ron. "Catch."

"Thanks." Ron looked at the cover of the book, then back at Harry. "These are kind of beat up, aren't they? No offense, but they look like something I'd have."

"They were presents. It's the thought that counts. And besides, they're perfectly readable."

"You sound like Mum." Ron stroked the corner of the book. "Who do you know who would send you junk like th..." He trailed off, staring at Harry. "One of the times Hedwig came to the Burrow, Ginny asked her if she'd do an errand. And she hasn't spent any of her pocket money all summer."

"And a prize goes to the perceptive gentleman on the other bed," Harry said, closing Dorm Hall. "Is there a problem?"

"No... it's just... what is my sister doing, sending you presents?"

"She's being my friend," Harry snapped. He knew he was overtired and emotionally strained, but he was out of patience. "Or maybe that's something you don't understand."

He knew it was a mistake the minute he said it. Ron went pink and looked at the opposite corner of the room.

"Ron, I'm sorry," Harry said, sitting up. "I didn't mean it."

"I know." Ron was speaking so quietly Harry could barely hear him. "You never do. Neither do I. We both say stupid things sometimes, you know?"

"Two stupid Gryffindors," said Harry, smiling, "and two smart Gryffindor girls who keep them in line. Voldemort hasn't got a chance."

Ron chuckled weakly. "I sure hope not." He turned back to face Harry, his expression confused. "Wait a minute – who are you talking about?"

"Hermione and Ginny," Harry said. "D'you fancy someone else you're not telling me about?"

"I don't fancy Hermione!" Ron was bright red now.

"Maybe that line would work on someone else, Ron. Someone who hasn't been the best friend you both have for five years. Doesn't work on me. You've fancied her since second year, and I think the whole school knows it."

"Well – but – I – you don't fancy Ginny, do you?"

Harry grinned. Ron wasn't trying to deny he liked Hermione any more. "What would you do if I did?"

"I don't know!" Ron took a deep breath, obviously trying to calm down. "What are you supposed to do when your best mate says he fancies your sister?"

"I believe the traditional line is, 'I give you my blessing,'" Harry said, deadpan.

Ron goggled at him for a moment, then began to laugh.

"Tell the truth. You think it's a great idea," Harry said.

"Well, yeah," Ron confessed, bringing himself under control. "Always have. She likes you, Harry. And you like her. And you're the right kind of guy for her. You'll listen to her, but you won't let her do really stupid things. And she won't let you do anything stupid either."

"Like getting myself killed?" Harry said quietly, his good mood draining out. "Ron, I'm sorry. I shouldn't even have brought this up. It wouldn't be fair to Ginny, even if she did fancy me."

"What wouldn't be fair?"

"Anything." Harry glanced at the book in his hand. It was fun, entertaining to read, but it wasn't real. It didn't matter. "Voldemort's after me, everyone knows that. He'll probably get me one of these days."

"Ginny knows that," Ron said. "We all do. You think we're afraid to be your friends or something?"

"Yes. Look at me, Ron, I'm a walking death trap. I killed Cedric, I killed Sirius – aren't you even a little afraid? Aren't you a little worried that some Death Eater or other might decide to bring his master a little present, like Harry Potter's best friend? Don't you ever think about that?"

Harry realized, too late, that he'd been shouting.

"Actually, yeah, Harry, I do think about that," Ron retorted, starting to color up again. "And I think about some other things too. Like knocking out a mountain troll. Or taking Polyjuice Potion. Watching you win the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor. Waking up in the lake during your second task. You're the best friend I've ever had, and nothing's going to change that. Not even," Ron crossed his arms defiantly, "Voldemort."

"You said it." Harry stared at his friend. "You said his name."

Ron shrugged. "You do it, Hermione does it, I figured it was time I got around to it." His manner changed. He sat down on the bed limply. "Harry, you didn't kill Sirius. Bellatrix Lestrange did. And you didn't kill Cedric either. Pettigrew did that. You were involved, but that was an accident."

"It wasn't an accident that I was at the Department of Mysteries," Harry said bitterly.

"You're right. It wasn't. You made a decision and it was the wrong one. Harry, if you let yourself give up, Voldemort's won already. We might as well go start kissing up to Draco Malfoy."

"You go kiss up to that slug if you like."

Ron chuckled. "I wonder if he still leaves a slime trail behind when he moves."

"Ron, it's my fault. Sirius is dead and it's my fault. How the hell am I supposed to live with that?!"

Ron was silent for a moment.

"I don't know, Harry," he admitted. "But I bloody well wish I did."

Ron's candor hit Harry harder than any sympathy could. He felt his face crumpling and knew Ron would be leaving to get Hermione any minute – Ron hated people crying.

But Ron wasn't going away – he was moving closer – he was sitting on Harry's bed.

Hardly realizing what he was doing, Harry put his face on Ron's shoulder and sobbed. He was vaguely aware of a pair of distant thudding sounds, but all he could think of or say was, "It's my fault, it's my fault, Sirius, I'm so sorry," over and over again. He could feel Ron patting him awkwardly on the back.

Moments later, or so it seemed, there were arms around him. Two pairs of arms.

"Time for a different shoulder," said a brisk voice, and Harry looked up and blinked swollen eyes.

"'Lo, Ginny," he said, trying to smile. "'Lo, Hermy."

"You are not an uncivilized giant and you may not call me Hermy," said Hermione, handing him a box of tissues. "But you may continue crying on my somewhat dryer robes, if you'd like."

Harry blew his nose and managed a smile this time. "Maybe later, if the offer still stands then."

"Anytime, Harry," Hermione said, squeezing his arm.

"That goes for me as well," said Ron, who was using the tissues Ginny was handing him to try and dry the sopping shoulder of his robe.

"And me," Ginny said quickly.

"And expect Mum to offer too, she's been worried about you," Ron said, giving up on his shoulder. "Hermione, Ginny, out, I need to change."

"I've seen you naked before," Ginny said, but she went to the door. Hermione followed with a peculiar expression on her face.

"House size of the Burrow with seven kids, no one has any privacy," Ron said, pulling his robes over his head.

"How did you get them in here without leaving me?" Harry asked, after blowing his nose again.

"Chucked my trainers at the wall," Ron said, taking off his undershirt. "They're right next door. You going to bed?"

"I guess I should," Harry said. He started undoing his shirt. "Ron – thanks."

Ron grinned sheepishly. "What else are friends for?"

Harry grinned back. "Ginny said that when she was a cat. Well, she didn't say it, exactly, because she couldn't talk, but she would have said it if she could."

"When did she, er, not say this?"

"When she was sitting on my lap," Harry said, slipping on his pajama pants.

"Ginny sat on your lap?"

"Yeah – I was crying, and she helped me, like you just did. And afterwards, I realized how lucky I was."

"Lucky?" Ron looked apprehensive.

"Yeah. Lucky it wasn't you on my lap instead of her."

Harry just ducked the pillow Ron swung at him, laughing.

In bed, Harry finished his chapter of Dorm Hall, while Ron opened Seminar to the first page and began to read, chuckling over the very first sentence. ("Dr. and Mrs. Gorelli, of 3148 Contessa Lane, were proud to say that they were quite unusual, thank you very much.")

"Ron?"

"Yah?"

"Why do you need to borrow my books? Can't you borrow Ginny's?"

"Well – " Ron looked abashed. "Did she tell you what I said about them?"

"Yeah."

"I snitched one, two, and three from her room. When she caught me, I asked if I could please read number four. I was desperate – there's a teaser at the end of three, you'll see. She let me read it through, once – then banned me from ever asking her for them again."

Harry chuckled. "Serves you right."

He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting.

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

"You do have my blessing. To date Ginny. If you really want to."

"Thanks, mate." Harry yawned. A picture swam into focus in his mind.

Erica Gorelli was curled on a couch, a mug of tea beside her, reading aloud from a book of stories. She looked just like she did on the cover of Dorm Hall – shoulder-length brownish-blond hair, glasses, gray sweatshirt, jeans, and sneakers with bright green laces. Anna was sitting on the floor nearby, with Lizzie on the couch above her. Both of them were listening carefully as Lizzie braided Anna's brown hair into cornrows.

Lanie and Edith were also sitting on the floor, with a board game on a low table between them. Edith had a mug of tea next to her as well. Harry recognized Connect 4 from Dudley's childhood. He had actually gotten to play with it some, because Dudley hadn't wanted anything to do with a game that didn't beep or flash at you when you won. Edith appeared to be winning, but that might be because she was paying attention to the game, while Lanie was paying more attention to the story Erica was reading.

The whole scene had the same feeling of peace about it that the best nights Harry could remember from the Gryffindor common room did.

He sat down in one of the big, firm armchairs and began listening to the story himself.

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(A/N: Well, technically it's Wednesday now, it being 1:30 AM...

I have GOT to stop doing this, Lanie gripes at me when I type too late right below her bed. Luckily, she's sick now, so she's drugged with Benadryl and she can't hear me. And Lizzie gets so grouchy about homework. That's why I'm a humanities major.

Hope you enjoy this scene. It wasn't exactly fun to write, but I think it reads well. I know Ron's a bit of a wart sometimes, but he knows Harry needs to talk about Sirius and what happened, and this time, he just managed to say the right things in the right order.

CapriceAnn: I reposted because there were a whole bunch of little things I needed to fix, and I figured the fastest way was to repost. Sorry. But you did find it again, obviously...

Please encourage friends to read this. I know there's a lot of sixth year fics out there, but I hope to make this one of the best. And also the most interesting.)