When Harry fainted to the floor as the Cruciatus spell hit him, Ron thought it was all over for them both, right then and there. If he couldn't control his own pain - let it weaken Harry so dangerously, as it was so obviously doing now - then they were as good as dead, and for a selfish moment Ron wished they were. Then Harry's body shrank a little on the cold stones, even before Malfoy and Bellatrix tried to touch him, and through the pain, Ron felt a kind of triumph. He'd spent the last two years holding Harry extra close while his lovers' body shrank protectively, the Occlumency their only defence of Harry's mind.
He heard the order for his death dispassionately, watching Harry closely as he gasped through the last of the pain. The shield that sprang to life was warm and soothing, and Ron let his head fall back against the stones behind him, watching through slitted eyes as Harry once more rose to the challenge of the battle against Voldemort. He made himself a passive conduit and siphoned as much power from his surroundings as he possibly could as his partner caught the lethal spells flying his way and combined their power to enhance the bond.
He watched in surprise as even the Killing Curse failed to touch Harry, instead it was plucked from the very air and confined, contained to do their joint bidding. A part of him almost laughed when he saw the untameable black hair tinge as red as his own, some instinct telling him that his own hair was now partially black, a sign of their bond manifesting itself physically.
Harry's poor voice rose in the funeral chant as the Death Eaters themselves handed over the power needed to destroy Voldemort once and for all. Ron had to shut his eyes, almost blinded by the spectacle, and only when it was silent in the chamber again did he open them. Harry was swaying on his knees, panting, head bowed. The dais above him was empty, the stone throne cracked in half. As Ron watched the shield around him faded and Harry slumped lifelessly to the floor.
"Harry!" Ron shrieked in panic and fought against the chains that still bound him to the wall, his wrists still shackled above his head, his feet spread uncomfortably apart. After a moment he looked desperately up at his wedding ring, forcing himself to calm down enough to feel the ring finger, sobbing in relief when he felt the warmth of Harry's pulse in it.
"Mr Weasley, calm down," Professor Snape's voice was as cool as ever and shocked Ron back into his right mind. The Potions master stepped out of the alcove where he'd hidden as the Death Eaters fled the room and probably returned to their homes in fear. Ron couldn't wait to help the Aurors track them all down.
Snape was standing in front of him now, and Ron watched as the Professor raised his wand and severed the chains, freeing him from his confinement. Ron staggered and would have fallen if not for Snape's arm sliding around his waist and holding him up. The grey robes of the Death Eater looked so wrong on the Order's spy that Ron shivered and tugged at them fitfully.
"Grey is not your colour," he informed the man holding him up giddily, and giggled at the disgusted look on Snape's face. He pushed off from the other man and wobbled over to Harry, barking his shins on the steps of the dais and crawling to the huddled lump.
Harry's hair had returned to its usual shade of black, except for one lock that fell over his scar. The copper hairs there mingled with the black around them, almost unnoticeable in the mess. He looked up as Snape came to kneel beside them, the grey robes gone, his usual severe frock coat and trousers a comforting point of normality. From the glance Snape directed to his own head, Ron surmised that Harry had left a few of his black hairs behind as well.
"He's cold," his voice was peevish, but Ron was shaking too hard to pick Harry up off the floor - even if he could have gotten his arms securely around his spouse he would have dropped him the moment he tried to move. Snape heaved a sigh and went back for his robes, wrapping Harry in the discarded cloth. Ron hated the sight of the grey uniform against his lovers skin but had nothing better to offer him.
"We must leave before they decide to return and see who has won," Snape picked Harry up with a grunt and Ron dragged himself up with the help of the stone sarcophagus which had imprisoned his partner. He blanched when he saw the date and Harry's name carved onto the lid.
"My wand?" Ron did his best to focus on the matter at hand, not on what might have been. With Harry unconscious - and blood spattered, which was chilling Ron to the marrow - the bond was quiescent. Ron's ability at wand less magic hadn't been as confident as Harry's, Ron was the grounded one in their partnership, and Harry was the elemental one.
"Your wands were not brought with you," Snape's voice recalled Ron's wandering attention again and he grimaced, disappointed with himself.
"I can't defend us," Ron hated admitting weakness to Snape, but he wanted them to get out of there in one piece, and pride would have to take a back seat. Snape gave him an impenetrable look and then nodded curtly.
"With luck," the distaste in that last word spoke volumes, "You won't have to try. I can Apparate back to the school with Harry and return for you."
"No," Ron shook his head, instinct ruling his decision, "We leave here together."
"How?" Snape snapped tartly, "You're in no condition to Apparate alone."
"I won't have to," Ron stumbled to Snape's side and held out the wilted rose from his lapel, "You're going to make a portkey and take us to the hospital wing."
Snape gave him a very long look and then angled the hand that clutched his wand to perform the charm. Ron reached out and clutched Harry about the ankles, then brought the rose into contact with the wand so that Snape could activate the key. He felt the usual tug behind his navel, and crashed to his knees seconds later in the middle of the hospital wing. Snape stepped back and whirled to lay Harry on a bed, calling for Madam Pomfrey as he did. Ron let it all wash over him, slumping to the cool floor and letting go of consciousness.
0oo0oo0
Harry did not feel at all well. His body ached with a dull persistency. His head throbbed unpleasantly, and his throat was so raw that he didn't even want to think about speaking to anyone for at least the rest of this year. To top it all off he felt like throwing up, an action that he knew deep in his bones would hurt terribly, and the smell of someone's cup of pumpkin juice wasn't helping matters at all.
On the plus side, Ron's arm was wrapped around his waist, and Ron's familiar soft snore was sounding in his ear. That simple contact went a long way to reassuring Harry that wherever they were and whatever was going on they were safe. The place they were laying was soft, and wonderfully warm. It was not terribly large, Harry could sense that he was close to the edge of it, and felt that if Ron rolled away from him he would likely fall off another edge.
To prevent any falls, Harry took Ron's hand in his, holding it tightly despite his aches and pains and considering his next move. His eyes were closed, yet Harry thought that it was daylight, a vague golden glow beyond his eyelids telling him that there was natural light adding warmth to the bed. If they were in bed and someone was drinking that foul smelling pumpkin juice, then the chances were that they were in the hospital wing at Hogwarts.
To confirm this vague conclusion, Harry slowly and carefully opened his eyes, a task that took a lot of effort. They focussed unwillingly on the person sitting beside the bed, sipping the drink that was turning Harry's stomach. She was reading a book on her lap, and not really paying attention to them at all, which was fine because Harry didn't want to be fussed over. Hermione looked tired, and the hand that turned the pages of her book was a little shaky.
Memory returned with a rush, and Harry gasped, attracting Hermione's attention as he stirred in Ron's warm embrace.
"Harry!" Hermione whispered in relief. She put the cup of juice down and leant over to hug him, kissing his cheek and sitting back with moist eyes. She held a hand up, and the expression on her face warned him to listen carefully to what she was about to say.
"Before you start trying to talk, don't. Madam Pomfrey says that your throat needs you to be utterly silent to heal. I know what you're going to ask, so just listen, ok?" the bossy tone was comforting to Harry. She'd been bossing them around since their first year, and the behaviour was as welcome now as it could be annoying when he was feeling one hundred percent.
"First of all, no one was killed. There were some minor injuries, but Madam Pomfrey has it all under control. When we realised that you and Ron were gone… Professor Dumbledore was beside himself. I've never seen him so upset in my life. He called the Order together, of course, and Fudge and the Aurors had to be told as well. Everyone was out looking for you. Tom Riddle had already called Professor Snape, and we could only hope that he could help you out somehow. You returned to the school with him two hours ago. He told us that Tom is dead, and then went down to his dungeon to brew a potion for your throat," Hermione looked up as Madam Pomfrey appeared, beaming at Harry in a most unusual manner. Madam Pomfrey was not dour or unpleasant, but she usually frowned at you a little when you required her skills. Her lectures were legendary, and students went out of their way to avoid them.
"Ah, Mr Potter, you're awake," she patted the hand that was clutching Ron, "I must ask you to step outside, Miss Granger while I look him over."
Ten painful minutes later Harry slumped back against his still sleeping partner. The one attempt he'd made to speak - at her request - had brought tears to his eyes and left him shaking in pain. He felt too weak to deal with anything other than sleeping right now, but had the feeling that he wouldn't have that luxury. On the plus side, Hermione had taken her pumpkin juice away, and Harry's stomach was settling.
There was a small commotion at the door that had Harry wishing for his wand, as Fudge swirled into the room, Rita Skeeter at his heels. Madam Pomfrey bristled and positively leapt down the ward, spitting nails as she headed them off. The Weasley's were the next through the door, and the resulting commotion finally woke Ron.
"Wassup?" the sleepy question was breathed in Harry's ear and he used his fingers to reply, grateful that with Ron awake there was an easy way for him to communicate. Ron sighed and shifted so he could kiss the ear he was breathing into before sitting up a bit and drawing Harry with him. Harry felt his heart wrench, moved beyond words that the precious gift of Ron in his life hadn't been destroyed by Voldemort's evil.
/love you so much/ Harry whispered into Ron's palm//thank you for staying alive and with me/
"It's ok, mate," Ron soothed, "I would never leave you behind. You're stuck with me Potter. Don't you ever forget it."
0oo0oo0
Ron watched with concern as Harry toyed with his breakfast for the sixth day running. Ever since they'd woken in the hospital wing with Fudge going toe to toe with his mother - Fudge had lost, and Molly had thrown him out of the ward before coming to sit on their bed and rub their knees like she had all through Ron's childhood - Harry had found keeping a meal down in the morning difficult. He'd complained - albeit silently - that even the smell of some types of food and drink made him want to throw up, and whined to Ron - through the medium of their fingers - that he didn't want to eat, he wanted to sleep.
Ron had fully recovered his energy after only three days of almost solid sleep. The fact that Harry had not had him terribly worried.
Life had gone on. With the death of Voldemort, which Fudge had announced to the press as if he himself had directed the battle and fought in single-handed combat, there had been a very large party for the Wizarding world while he and Harry slept. That had seemed a bit unfair, but Harry seemed relieved. Ron wasn't displeased they'd slept through Fudge's tedious speeches and useless hyperbole, but he would have liked to party with Gryffindor. His House threw the best parties, and they'd missed it.
Parents had flocked to the school on the eve of the Ball, demanding to see their children and demanding that Dumbledore do something to end these attacks, only to be silenced by the haggard appearance of Snape on the Great Staircase. The Head of Slytherin House had informed the assembled that Harry and Ron had killed the Dark Lord and then disappeared into his private dungeon to brew up a few potions, one of which was responsible for healing Harry's poor, abused throat. There had been a lot of fuss and bother, and the parents had eventually left, the school remaining open.
Lessons had been suspended for two days, then things had returned to normal, or as normal as possible when the teachers themselves were moving with a lighter step. Several of the Slytherin students had found themselves targets of pitying looks as their Death Eater parents either disappeared entirely, or were arrested by the Aurors. Draco Malfoy had lost his father when Lucius decided to fight the Aurors that were trying to arrest him, bringing part of his own Manor down around his ears. His mother was found a day later, wandering aimlessly, freed from the Imperious Curse that her husband had cast upon their wedding night. School unity had held them together though, and the Slytherins had found a degree of acceptance in their fellow students that eased the burden of worry just a little.
Ron and Harry had been released after four days in bed, spent sleeping for the most part, never more than a few inches apart. Fudge had come back to debrief them himself, with the Headmaster and their Head of House sitting together on the foot of their bed comfortably. The Minister for Magic hadn't been too happy with that development, hoping to have his 'young heroes' to himself. Harry had been able to speak in a whisper by then, though he still relied on their finger speak for the most part.
When Fudge had found out that they were practitioners of Sympathetic Magic, he had been very excited, and started making plans for their state wedding, offering to officiate at the ceremony himself. Harry had been furious and Ron had his hands full calming the green-eyed boy down again, letting Dumbledore tell the Minister that the wedding had taken place already and been properly witnessed by the families of both boys. Fudge looked thwarted and left not long after, muttering under his breath.
"We'll have to keep a close eye on him, Albus," Professor McGonagall had said thoughtfully and the Headmaster had patted her knee absently. Harry stirred out of Ron's arms enough to lean forward and kiss her cheek in thanks, before collapsing against Ron's chest and hiding his face in his partner's neck. Their Head of House had flushed and dimpled like a schoolgirl before hopping down from the bed and heading briskly to the door.
Ron was recalled to the present when Harry pushed away the dry toast on his plate, having only managed to eat half of a piece. Out of the corner of his eye, Ron saw Hermione notice this and make as if to speak. He shook his head at her and she closed her mouth again, a frustrated expression on her face.
"Harry?" Beth asked from opposite the table, "Would you like some of my pancakes?"
"No thanks, Beth," Harry's smile wasn't as bright as it had been, and his hoarse voice had everyone who heard it swallowing in sympathy, "I've got to get going. See you later, ok?"
"Ok," Beth looked at Ron with wide eyes and he smiled for her before abandoning his breakfast and grabbing his school bag. Harry glanced at him as they made their way down to potions and sighed.
"I'm sorry," he apologised, and Ron took his arm, pulling him to a stop. He didn't want Harry to feel responsible for Ron's feelings. His partner had enough on his plate just recovering from Valentines Day.
"Don't be. I worry because I love you," Ron reminded him, "You usually feel a bit better by lunch, so you can make up for it then."
"Sure," Harry nodded dispiritedly, "I just wish I didn't feel so… washed out. Everyone looks at me funny, and when we last saw Hagrid he practically carried me to a chair and refused to let me up."
"That was funny," Ron grinned in remembrance; "I thought he was going to end up carrying you back to our room."
Harry snorted at him in aggravation and swatted his shoulder in response. Ron grinned and gave him a peck on the cheek before heading down the stairs again. Harry was going to be seeing Madam Pomfrey tomorrow for a scheduled check up and if things weren't better he'd make sure his spouse mentioned the nausea.
0oo0oo0
Harry closed his mouth and cleared his throat uncomfortably, wincing and reaching for the water on the tray by the bed. Madam Pomfrey tutted under her breath and put away the last of her instruments.
"You're still very run down, Potter," she frowned at him, "And I've been watching you at meal times. You haven't been eating enough, especially at breakfast."
"I get sick," Harry confessed, confined to short sentences to save himself a little pain. The teachers would let Ron answer for him, or let Harry write his answer on parchment to be read out. Madam Pomfrey had shut Ron out of her examination of his spouse.
"Do you throw up, or simply feel nauseous?" Pomfrey waved her wand over him, creating a white glow around his chest and stomach.
"Both," Harry rasped, remembering this mornings little episode with the loo, "Only in the morning."
"Hmmm," she waved her wand again, and the white cloud began to take on various colours, shifting around and tingling through Harry's uniform to his skin. It felt kind of nice, and he relaxed, sitting up straighter to give it better access. Before the colours could settle at all the doors opened and Professor Dumbledore entered, a frown on his face and Ron at his heels.
Ron looked half excited, half angry, and Harry slipped off the bed, his muscles tensing in anticipation. Madam Pomfrey was exclaiming in displeasure, and the Headmaster had to spend a few minutes appeasing her wrath. Ron took the hand Harry was holding out, letting him ask what was going on painlessly. The finger talk had been a lifesaver, as Snape's potion was not fast acting.
"Minister Fudge has sent us a… proclamation," Ron tugged on Harry's hand until he was wrapped around his partner, a warm shoulder offering shelter for Harry's head, and a strong body supporting his still tired and aching one. It felt so good to be held and to hold.
"What?" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, "What does he want from them now, Albus?"
Harry reflected that Madam Pomfrey was not the dullest knife in the drawer. The only reason for Dumbledore and Ron bursting in here like this was because Fudge was planning something. Ron's body was tense, but not battle ready, so Harry took a little comfort in the idea that whatever this was, it wasn't going to be too bad.
"Minister Fudge will be holding an award ceremony tonight in the Quidditch stadium. The whole school is expected to attend, as well as many dignitaries and notables from our world. He plans to confer upon Harry and Ron the Order of Merlin, First Class."
The Headmaster's dry statement had Harry gaping at him in astonishment. He didn't want an award, presented in front of the whole Wizarding world for something that, by the accident of his birth, he was fated to do. He looked at Ron, who was excited, and more than a little overwhelmed by the idea. His partner would finally get the recognition that he craved from those around him. For Ron, then, he could put up with the pomp and circumstance that was about to be inflicted upon him.
"According to Fudge's communication, Madam Malkin will be here shortly to provide the boys with appropriate robes for the occasion," Dumbledore turned to look at Harry. He thought he saw concern and worry in the older Wizards gaze and did his best to radiate well being and vigour while clinging to Ron for comfort and support.
"Will Harry be able to attend the ceremony?" Dumbledore hadn't been fooled by the act, and Harry sighed, running his fingers lightly over Ron's hand in reply.
"He says that he'll be fine if he can rest for a while today. We've got a flying lesson to give this morning before dinner," Ron translated, "Perhaps Madam Pomfrey could recommend a tonic as well?"
"Well…" she sighed and then nodded in agreement, "Just this once, on the understanding that tomorrow he spends the day in the hospital wing with me. I want to check him over from head to toe."
"Agreed," Harry rasped immediately. He had a feeling that the visit would be needed by then anyway, if he were to be a model of health and confidence this evening.
"Professor," Ron hesitated, "Can I invite Mum and Dad?"
"And the rest," Harry insisted, "We'll have as many of the family as we can."
He coughed painfully and sipped at the water that Ron Summoned for him, sitting down and waiting the discomfort out. He listened as Ron and the Headmaster agreed on how to get Ron's family there in time. The Headmaster bent and looked Harry in the eye for a long moment before giving him a gentle hug and pat then strode quickly out to organise the school for the occasion.
"Right," Madam Pomfrey snapped, "When is this lesson? After breakfast? You're to go to bed directly after that, Potter, and someone will bring you dinner. I'll send Professor Snape up with the potions you're to take after that. You're not to stir from your bed until I come and get you, is that understood?"
"Robes?" Harry risked the one word question, and watched the Matron purse her lips in exasperation. He had a feeling that if he didn't stop objecting to her orders right now she'd have him drinking the foulest tasting medicine she could possibly prescribe for him.
"I'll be supervising," she informed him with a sniff and waved him out the door, Ron's supportive arm around his waist. He was able to walk on his own, but it felt so good to be supported, to be simply cared for, that Harry indulged himself in the luxury for the short walk to the stairs.
/you'll spoil me/ he told Ron's wrist and smiled at the redhead as he pulled away. His Ron looked rather dashing with the tiny black streak of hair in his fringe. Mrs Weasley had gone all dewy eyed when she'd seen it and hugged them both fiercely.
"Never in a million years," Ron chuckled, "Do you feel up to a spot of toast?"
/I make no promises/ Harry sighed and Ron nodded. The Great Hall was looming in front of them and Harry could hear the chatter of his fellow students, reaching out of the doors like a welcoming hand.
0oo0oo0
Madam Malkin arrived in the foyer with colourful bolts of fabric, two assistants and a flurry that even the dullest student couldn't miss. Ron was waiting with Madam Pomfrey to meet her, and take her up to his dorm room. It had been decided that the fitting would take place there, so Harry had the least amount of travelling to do, and could be put straight to bed if necessary.
Wrestler was not best pleased at letting three people that were wholly unconnected with the school into the rooms it protected, but Ron talked the gargoyle around. Madam Malkin stared around at the comfortable quarters that had held Gryffindor for the past two years, and Ron led the way to the room that he and Harry lived in. The door was shut but not locked, and Madam Pomfrey ordered them all to wait outside while she went in to check on Harry and wake him.
"I thought that…" Madam Malkin trailed off and Ron sighed. There were probably hundreds of rumours floating around about his and Harry's health and status and everything else. They'd stopped reading the Daily Prophet last week, when it had told the world that they had died the night before. Ron's rather blistering cancellation of their subscription had gone unacknowledged by the paper, which had none-the-less published a retraction when it was deluged with Howlers from Ron's family and all their friends. Hermione read the paper now for them both, and leant them the Quidditch scores. The Seven Nations Cup had gone on undisturbed by recent events.
"The Daily Prophet needs to be renamed to the Daily Guesser," Ron muttered grumpily, wishing that he was in there waking Harry instead of their school Matron. He could wake his spouse with gentle kisses and strokes, giving him time to orient himself and gather his wits. The school Matron would wake him gently, but not in such a pleasurable fashion. At least… she'd better not!
"Right, lets get this over with," Madam Pomfrey opened the door to let them in, and Ron walked past the snickering assistants to greet Harry with a touch and a smile. His partner was wearing the hideously bright dressing gown that Dobby had given him, which had the advantage of being floor length and warm. Madam Malkin regarded it with a sniff of disapproval, and Harry grinned.
"It was a gift," Ron explained, "And it's warm."
"Well," the seamstress looked around at their plain rooms and then looked back at them, eyebrows raised, "You'll have to tell me what you want, gentlemen."
"We're both partial to something that is plain, simply cut, not too flashy or fussy," Ron told her, "And Harry's voice is too weak for speech at the moment, so I'll answer for him, or he can write answers down for you."
This was a little invention of his own. He had a feeling that Harry would be called upon to speak a bit tonight, so they might as well save his voice as much as possible now. Madam Malkin's eyes lit up and Ron had the feeling that Harry's 'failing health' would be all over the Daily Prophet tomorrow along with whatever hysteria that the paper came up with after tonight. His partner wasn't sick, he was just a little run down after channelling so much raw power to get rid of Tom Riddle once and for all.
Madam Malkin had the assistants measure them both from stem to stern, and started unrolling sample swatches of material while Madam Pomfrey sat in one of their armchairs and watched with an eagle eye. Some of the patterns and colours on offer were interesting, but he could see that Harry was horrified by a few of their choices. His partner was getting restless, and Ron could see the matron was about to interfere rather aggressively on behalf of her patient.
/black brocade// Harry pointed out the fabric he'd spotted//we could look a little like Snape/
Ron laughed, shaking his head and pulling out the material Harry meant. It wasn't actually black, merely a blue so dark that it seemed black. The brocade was something that caught the light, sending little ripples of light along the surface. It felt rather nice to his touch and Harry approved it with a nod. Madam Malkin intervened at that point, asking if they would be dressed alike or differently.
"Alike," Ron looked over at Harry, "We might as well show the partnership in all things, at least for formal occasions."
Harry nodded, and Madam Malkin shifted restlessly, obviously curious, but not willing to risk Madam Pomfrey's wrath by drawing out the session with her questions. The seamstress and her assistants cut the cloth and shaped it into sets of flowing robes, with high necks, deep sleeves and a slightly stiff drape to the under robes. When they tried them on though, it enhanced Harry's pallor to the point he looked like a walking corpse. Ron shook his head vehemently - his Harry was dead sexy, not a walking corpse, and he wouldn't ask the man to wear anything that made him look like one.
"Now, now," the seamstress clucked, "We can change the colour to something that will look better on you both, dear."
Several colour changes later she was starting to look frustrated. No matter which colour they tried, they made one of them look very unhealthy, except for a shade of pink that they both refused to wear. Harry was looking tired and Ron was thoroughly ready to just go to the ceremony in his school uniform. Their dress robes had been thrown away after Madam Pomfrey had removed them, unfortunately torn and stained irreparably, otherwise he'd have worn them. Madam Malkin was twittering about trying patterns and paisley's next, which didn't sound too appealing.
Harry shook his head and sighed, reaching for Ron. The robes rustled as he moved, and framed the sexy body beneath in alluring, teasing lines of light. Ron joined his hands to Harry's willingly and felt the bond come slowly to life.
/Gryffindor colours/ Harry suggested and Ron nodded, concentrating on transfiguring the material, only altering its colour. Their robes fluttered in an invisible breeze and then settled. Harry was walking flame, red and gold swirled through the robes in a dramatic flare that enhanced his skin tone and warmed Ron's heart.
"Perfect!" Madam Malkin exclaimed, "In all my days I've never seen such an inspired pattern!"
"You like?" Harry whispered hoarsely and Ron nodded, admiring the flow of light along his partners' frame, picked up by the brocade itself. He winked at his partner and rubbed his fingers over Harry's wrist.
/you look utterly shaggable in that/ Ron smiled seductively. Harry blushed and ducked his head, grinning at his partner. The moment was broken when Madam Pomfrey insisted that Harry get back into bed and Madam Malkin magicked the robes onto stands by their armchairs. As far as Ron was concerned, that was a step in the right direction - he and Harry were left in their briefs and socks.
0oo0oo0
Harry took a deep breath and smiled at his excited spouse. They were standing in the Gryffindor players box, waiting for the doors to open. There was a crowd out there - he could hear them talking and moving - and he just knew that he was going to hate the next hour or so. If Fudge tried to drag it out longer than that, Harry was planning on fainting or hexing the Minister, whichever was easiest.
The pattern of flames on the robes they wore mirrored Ron's slender strength and seductive lines, the deep red and gold seeming to flicker and swirl even in the half-light. Harry leaned over and put a hand along Ron's jaw, turning his head enough for a slow chaste kiss.
"You're insatiable," Ron moaned, and Harry smiled, leaning in for one last brush of lips. Madam Pomfrey had left them alone, walking the seamstress and her assistants out, and Harry had lured Ron to their bed with a request to be held. Once horizontal, Harry manoeuvred them until the inevitable had happened and they'd gone to sleep in the afterglow, waking tangled together and content.
/only for you/ Harry promised and straightened when he heard music start and the whispers outside quieten//looks like we're on. Have I ever told you how much I hate the spotlight//
Ron looked at him closely, and Harry regretted the remark. He didn't want to cheapen this experience for his partner. Ron deserved the recognition, and Harry didn't really begrudge him it. Ron's fingers tightened on Harry's as the door opened and the dark haired boy was startled when they sung softly to him. He recognised the first lines from 'Green eyes' by Coldplay - the Muggle group that Ron had come to love over their last summer holidays.
/Harry, you are the rock, upon which I stand, when I come here to talk, I hope you understand, green eyes, yeah the spotlight, shines upon you, how could anybody deny you? I came here with a load, and it feels so much lighter, now I've met you, and Harry you should know, that I could never go on without you, green eyes…/
He almost laughed at the changed words, remembering not to at the last moment, squeezing Ron in silent warning of the retribution that was to come if he didn't knock it off. They walked up the hastily built stairs and onto the raised floor of the stadium, the crowd roaring in their ears. Fingers tangled, steps matching, they walked with grace and calm to stand beside the Minister, disengaging only long enough to shake his hand.
/your mum and dad are behind Fudge, to the right. I think I see your grandparents too/ Harry informed his partner, who looked and smiled at his family, his fingers ticking off everyone who had managed to come, pointing them out to Harry without pointing.
The school was also ranged along the stadium, the teachers in front and the students on the benches behind them. Everyone wore their school uniform, though the girls had done their hair up, and the teachers wore the ceremonial robes that were usually only seen at the Seventh Years Leaving Feast.
Harry tuned in to Fudge's speech and froze in disgust. The Minister was relating details of his past in a lead up - he assumed - to the death of Voldemort. The only problem was that Fudge was taking all the credit for his teachers and protectors work. Ron's fingers stroked in a soothing cadence, and Harry shot him a miserable look.
/I have an idea/ Ron promised//we can make it all better with one simple step. Fudge is up for re-election next year; his eight-year contract of service will be up. We can undo all his posturing with just one gesture/
Harry bit down on a grin and caressed his assent warmly over Ron's fingers. Ron was the grounded one, seeing to the heart of other people's actions quickly. The crowd was roaring with approval and he paid attention to Fudge again, noticing that the man was now reading from a double scroll. Harry could feel the magic that had been placed upon the parchments - charms to verify the truth of the contents, prevent tampering and any accidental damage.
The Minister let the scrolls roll back up and returned them to their elaborate holder. Each platinum tube was embossed with precious stones in the Ministry's official Seal. They were returned to the cushion they had been resting on and the Minister picked up the first of the medallions. Harry's fingers told Ron to step forward, to take the first honour, and his partner hesitated.
/I place you above all others/ Harry's fingers tapped firmly for emphasis and withdrew. He folded his hands into his sleeves and Ron sighed, stepping forward smoothly. As the Minister hadn't actually called Harry's name, he couldn't object, and Harry smiled up at his parents-in-law, watching their pride and joy overflow in happy tears as their youngest son received his award.
Then Ron was standing beside him, and Harry stepped forward, bending his head to let Fudge slip the chain over his neck, settling the medallion on his chest. He stepped back and reached for Ron.
/now/ Ron nodded. The Minister was standing to one side, beaming at them hopefully, and Harry paced forward with his partner to the edge of the stage, bringing them both directly in front of their teachers and their school. In one smooth flawless movement they placed their hands over their hearts and bowed deeply, showing the rest of the Wizarding world where their loyalties lay, and to whom they felt the most indebted.
When they stepped back into place, Fudge looked like he was trying to swallow a pineapple, sideways.
/perfect/ Harry's fingers purred//I married a genius/
/yeah, you did/
0oo0oo0
"… Mortified," Snape was saying as Ron led a drooping Harry towards the side room the teachers had retired to. If the Head of Slytherin meant his spouse, then the man was correct. Harry had hated the fuss and bother around them, only cheering up when they sunk Fudge's little propaganda fest at the award ceremony.
"As you have said many a time, Severus," Dumbledore sounded amused, "Harry and Ron are not saints."
Ron rapped on the open door and smiled when the teachers turned to look at them. The Headmaster's blue eyes were twinkling behind his half-moon glasses, and Ron grinned in response. He and Harry had removed their medallions and boxed them away carefully. The plan was for Dumbledore or McGonagall to keep them safe - a standard practice when a student unexpectedly came into possession of something valuable.
"We were hoping you would keep these for us, Headmaster," Ron said by way of explaining their presence, and held out the boxes. Dumbledore nodded and took the proffered items, opening them to look at the contents. Harry's fingers stroked his wrist in a gentle reminder.
"And we wanted to say thank you. We know who put all the hard work into our training, despite what Fudge seemed to think. Without your lessons we wouldn't have survived."
Harry bent down and hugged Flitwick, in absence of adding his voice to Ron's. The Head of Ravenclaw patted his back affectionately, and Ron smiled. Harry had wanted to do something to indicate his gratitude, but when Ron suggested a handshake his partner had thought it a little impersonal. After all they'd been shaking hands all night until Dumbledore sent the students to bed. He and Harry had gone as a matter of course, much to Fudge's dismay, though the party would probably go on for hours.
Professor McGonagall got a hug and kiss, and Dumbledore embraced Ron's spouse heartily. Snape stiffened when Harry approached him, but it didn't deter the green-eyed young man from hugging their irascible potions master. Snape's arms apparently crept around Harry of their own volition.
"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape muttered when Harry let go and Ron grinned. Professor McGonagall sniffed and muttered under her own breath, probably adding the points back on, and then leaned in to look carefully at the clasps on their outer robes.
"Gryffindor lions?" she touched the silver and gold clasp. Harry nodded and gestured to their robes as well, smiling when comprehension flashed in her eyes. They wore their House colours deliberately.
"You should probably take those magnificent robes off and hand them over to Dobby for cleaning and proper storage," Dumbledore suggested, "Why don't you go into the boys toilet down the hall, and I'll have him meet you there with dressing gowns."
Ron gave the Headmaster a smile of thanks and said goodnight to everyone. Harry trudged along with him, holding Ron's hand. Dobby was already there and five minutes later Ron was supporting Harry up the stairs, ignoring his partners' silent protests of health and independence. Wrestler let them in with a cheerful 'good night' and the common room was still crowded with students.
"About time you two got here," Dean grinned from his comfortable lounge, "Can't have a victory party without the victors."
Ron felt Harry cheer up a bit and grinned back. They could do with a friendly party to wash away the tediousness of the one downstairs. Hermione cut things short, though, not giving them time for more than a quick drink and a few jokes. As the majority of people were already tired and full from the prior party, no one protested too much and went to bed without fuss.
Harry was dead to the world by the time Ron climbed into bed, and he wrapped himself around the other man tenderly. The next thing he knew, Harry was pulling away, sunlight was streaming in through their window, and his partner was rushing for the nearest loo.
Ron climbed out of bed, found their dressing gowns and slippers, grabbed the glass of water they kept on the dresser for Harry's sore throat and a flannel and headed after his partner. Harry was heaving rather vigorously, and Ron sighed in sympathy, wetting the flannel and wiping it over the back of Harry's neck. When the other man had finished hurling, Ron flushed the toilet - the smell wasn't at all pleasant and wouldn't help Harry's stomach to settle - and handed the glass of water over. Once his friend had finished rinsing and spitting Ron washed his face and hands and helped him put on the dressing gown and slippers.
"Come on, we're going straight to Madam Pomfrey," Ron decided, "You can skip breakfast."
"No," the hoarse whisper had Ron wincing in sympathy. He kissed chapped lips and stroked his thumbs over Harry's temples. His glasses were back in the dorm, and would stay there today. He didn't intend for his partner to do any work at all while under the school matrons' care.
"Please," he whispered, putting his forehead to Harry's, "For me?"
Harry nodded reluctantly and Ron helped him up. He murmured words of love and encouragement as they walked slowly to the hospital wing, hoping that whatever Madam Pomfrey had in mind for today would do the trick.
0oo0oo0
"What did Madam Pomfrey say, Ron?" Hermione asked as Ron joined her at breakfast. He helped himself to kippers and tried to smile for her. He had a pretty good idea that it didn't help when she threw her arms around him and hugged him close.
Last night his mother had pulled him aside while his dad and the twins fussed over Harry and asked what the hell was going on. Her sharp eyes had seen through the front Harry was projecting, and the fact that he really hadn't regained his voice at all hadn't helped. He'd promised to keep her updated and informed her that Harry was spending the next day under Madam Pomfrey's care. She'd nodded and gone to hug her son-in-law, rescuing him from the twins' exuberant questions.
"I can go get him after tea tonight," Ron sighed into her shoulder, "Why won't he get better, Hermy?"
"Give it time," Hermione soothed, "I'm sure Madam Pomfrey will figure something out today."
Malfoy plonked down next to Ron and Lavender and Parvati took the empty seat opposite. Ron let go of his friend and addressed himself to his breakfast before it got cold. Hermione's newspaper arrived, touting itself as a 'Souvenir Issue'. There was a rather good shot of Harry and Ron together, standing at the top of the stairs that led from the Gryffindor players box to the floating stage.
"Two timing Harry already?" Lavender sniffed as Ron leaned into Hermione's space to get a better look. He didn't even bother to answer that. Mistress Brown was approaching a nasty fall if she didn't get her shrewish tendencies under control. Ron raised his head slowly, a scowl on his face. He and Harry had dropped the I-am-not-here charm when they were getting dressed for last night. Their wedding bands were clearly visible to anyone who looked. Obviously she hadn't bothered. He held his left hand up so she could see the warm circle of metal that pulsed along to Harry's life force.
"We were married in January, a few friends and family attended," Ron told her, realising that the whole table was watching avidly, "We'd satisfied the fidelity annum requirement for Wizards in their majority by then."
"Yet you dated Hannah and Susan!" Parvati gaped, "You used them!"
"No we didn't," Ron sighed, "Susan and Hannah are friends of ours. They knew that we were not interested in dating them at all, and they agreed to come to the Ball with us as friends."
He didn't want to out the other couple, it wasn't his place to do that, but if Lavender didn't back off soon, then Hannah and Susan would be facing some rather uncomfortable questions. He was saved from the dilemma of how to steer the questions away from their erstwhile 'dates' when Susan herself came over and leaned down to kiss his cheek. From the look in her eyes, she'd evidently heard what Lavender was whining on about and come over to rescue him. The irony did not escape him - he and Harry could face down the most evil Wizard of their time, but they couldn't bring a gossip in their own House to heel.
"Sod off, Lavender," Susan said over Ron's shoulder, "Hannah and I are a couple and we used the boys as cover."
"It was Harry's idea," Hannah added from just behind Hermione, "They didn't want to hurt the feelings of anyone who thought they had a chance at a romance with them, and we didn't want to run the risk of a couple of guys getting the wrong idea."
Ron could feel Malfoy's fascination with the whole scene and wondered if the blonde Slytherin was going to be reporting this to… Ron's thoughts came to an abrupt halt. Even if Malfoy had been reporting their actions to his father, Lucius was now dead and the Death Eaters reduced to a small rabble hiding in remote locales. It would be disloyal to the school to treat Malfoy as a spy now. There was no one for him to report to, and ingrained habits were hard to break. Besides, Malfoy had not mentioned his son to Voldemort at all - some other woman had talked about her son the spy.
"Let's not argue," Hermione said briskly, recalling Ron to the present. Lavender and Parvati were openly sulking and Ron sighed. They'd just have to get over it in their own time, and meanwhile he would concentrate on getting Harry back to his usual self.
The day seemed three times as long as usual to Ron, who only wanted to see his partner and hear from Madam Pomfrey that he was going to be just fine. If Harry couldn't be cured here then his partner would be sent to St Mungo's, where Petunia Dursley still slept. Ron wouldn't be able to see his partner except on weekends. His fellow students seemed to understand his worry - Harry's absence hadn't gone unnoticed, and Professor Trelawny had made a few predictions during her lesson that afternoon that had Ron itching to hex her. By the time tea rolled around, Ron's appetite was non-existent, and Beth ended up sitting next to him and urging him to eat in a maternal tone. Ginny was on his other side, lending silent support. Harry was her brother now too, and Ron whispered a promise to tell her what was going on the first moment he had free. Hermione walked him to the hospital wing and hugged him outside the doors, before hurrying away.
Madam Pomfrey was waiting, and Harry was curled up asleep in a bed near her office, surrounded by tall screens for privacy. The school matron let him peek at his partner and then ushered him into her office, putting him in a seat and settling opposite. Ron had the worst case of butterflies that he'd ever had in his life, and couldn't work up enough spit to ask her what was wrong with his partner.
"First of all, Professor Snape's potions weren't working effectively because of the vomiting and Harry's current hormonal levels. I was forced to use a more direct series of spells to heal the last of the damage to his throat, but he now has his voice back and all discomfort has ceased. If I'd known he was that uncomfortable to begin with I'd have ignored his wishes to allow Professor Snape's potions more time. You will never, ever, allow him to hide symptoms from a Healer ever again," she glared at him, and Ron nodded, glad that her oaths as a Healer prevented her from acting on her desire to mete out a painful punishment, and relieved he'd be hearing Harry's voice again without having to wince in sympathetic pain.
"Secondly," Madam Pomfrey's glare eased up and she smiled, an expression so unexpected that Ron's head spun in shock, "The reason Harry has been so run down since… you know what… was a very happy bit of news. He informed me of your wedding in January, and tests have proven conclusively to me the cause of Harry's hormonal imbalance."
Ron resisted the urge to shriek at her to just get on with it, his hands turning into fists in his lap. The matron noticed and leaned over to pat them gently, her smile widening even further.
"Harry is seven weeks withchild, Ron, and you are the father."
He puzzled over the strange term that the matron had used, until he remembered that male pregnancies were usually called withchild, the literal combination of the two words with and child.
0oo0oo0
Harry was woken from a deep sleep by kisses and shaking fingers stroking his face and shoulders. As Ron was the only person that was allowed to kiss him awake, Harry smiled as he opened sleep heavy eyes. The smile turned to a frown when he realised that Ron had tears on his face. He reached up for his partner, tugging to get Ron to climb onto the bed with him. Ron climbed up willingly, hugging Harry to him ecstatically.
"You spoke to Poppy?" Harry murmured sleepily, realising that Ron was happy-upset, not sad. Ron nodded and went back to kissing him, an activity that Harry could participate in wholeheartedly. He felt much better after a day in Madam Pomfrey's care, especially since she had managed to give him a series of treatments that meant that his sleep was actually restful for a change. For the first time in the past fortnight Harry wasn't running hard just to stay in place - or that's how it felt.
"Oh Harry, I can't believe it," Ron pulled away, while still hugging him tightly, "Are you… is it ok? I mean we were going to wait, and I know that…and… are you happy? Do you want them? I mean…"
"Shhh," Harry soothed his spouse tenderly, "I'm happy. The moment she told me I wanted them. You know I wanted us to have a family of our own."
He'd been blown away by the news at first - mainly because the idea of a male pregnancy was so foreign to everything he'd ever learned. Once he'd had a chance to think about it, and the matrons' potions had taken effect, he'd been over the moon. With his voice restored, he'd asked hundreds of questions, exhausting himself in his quest for understanding. The matron had reassured him that he hadn't inadvertently hurt his children in the battle with Voldemort, and then made sure he ate a hearty dinner. Harry had fallen asleep before the empty tray could be removed.
"Them?" Ron blinked, "What…?"
"Didn't she tell you?" Harry wriggled until he had Ron's hand, which he used to shove the blankets down until it could be placed over the warmth in his belly. He'd been feeling that ever since Madam Pomfrey had brought it to his attention, and his hand had basked in that simple sign of the life he carried. Ron was shaking his head, his eyes widening in wonder as Harry used the bond to bring the warmth to his spouse's attention.
"Triplets," Harry laughed as Ron started and almost fell off the bed, grabbing his spouse and hanging on until he'd regained his balance, "Your mum and dad are meeting us in Professor Dumbledore's office tomorrow night so we can tell them."
"Triplets?" Ron gaped at him and then wormed his way down the bed to press his face to the warmth that was bathing his hand, "Three?"
Harry stroked the red hair and let Ron wrap his mind around the idea. He'd had all afternoon between naps to get used to the idea; it was only fair to let Ron have some time as well. Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat and Ron sat up reluctantly, hopping off the bed and letting her wave her wand over Harry.
"Right, Potter," she smiled at him kindly enough, and he began to think she might just forgive him for not giving her the full story the very first time he felt unwell, "You're to come and see me first thing in the morning for the next two weeks until I'm sure that you're back to normal. Then it will be fortnightly check ups. The morning sickness will pass soon, and your teachers already know about your condition, so they'll be sure to keep you out of harms way in lessons. No more Quidditch, though you can fly for as long as you're comfortable astride a broom."
"Yes, ma'am," Harry sat up as she reiterated the instructions she'd given him once the full diagnosis had been made, "Thank you."
"Off you go, and make sure he has a meal, Mr Weasley, he slept through tea. I'll send Dobby along to your room," she started removing the screens and Harry shrugged his dressing gown on. Ron was still floating along in a blissful daze and Harry had to lead him out of the hospital wing. Hermione was lurking beside Wrestler with Ginny, and Harry hugged them, whispering that it was 'good news' in their ears.
0oo0oo0
Ron came back to his surroundings in their room, and immediately ushered Harry to the bed, glaring sternly when Harry protested quietly.
"You've got the first real colour in cheeks for weeks, and I'm not having it fade out because you're being stubborn," Ron scolded, "I've been too lax about your health, lover, and it's going to change."
"Oh god, he's gone mad," Harry groaned, subsiding onto the pile of pillows Ron had arranged for him and glaring up at his friend. Ron didn't care. They'd been very lucky - both Harry and their unborn children were going to recover from the strain they'd been forced to endure and Ron was not going to let Harry lift so much as a finger for the next seven months.
"Ron," Ginny grabbed him and pulled him away from where he was fussing with a blanket that Harry immediately kicked off, sitting up and frowning at him, "Stop it. What's wrong with you?"
"He's withchild!" Ron yelled at her, "We almost lost him because I can't keep it in my pants!"
The silence that followed that little outburst was startled to say the least and Ron flushed. He hadn't meant to announce their good fortune like this and Ginny was gaping at him in total shock. Hermione had to think about it for a moment to figure out the unusual term, and then flushed red - doubtless from suddenly having more information than she'd ever wanted about their sex lives and Harry lost it, laughing hard and falling back on the pillows.
"It t-takes t-twoooo," the green-eyed maniac spluttered between uncontrolled bouts of laughter. Ginny ducked her head and bit her lips. Harry's laughter was infectious to say the least and it took a stronger person than Ron to resist it. He could feel his own lips twitching and sank down onto the bed, his hand coming to rest on Harry's ankle as chuckles escaped his lips.
Hermione and Ginny joined in, a relieved edge to their laughter. When Harry calmed down he rearranged the pillows and sat up, beckoning for the girls to join them on the bed and tugging to get Ron up to his side, catching a hand and draping it over the warmth that seemed to emanate from his belly. Ron sighed and put his head on Harry's shoulder, basking in the knowledge for a long moment.
"You shit," he mumbled, "If you think you're going to get around me…"
"Pet," Harry sighed, "You know I won't. But you can't put me in a glass bubble on a shelf. Madam Pomfrey knows what she's doing."
"Perhaps you should start again," Hermione suggested from where she lounged with Ginny and Ron turned his head just enough to look at them. Harry was warm and smelled good, and wasn't dying; therefore Ron wasn't inclined to let go.
"There are two ways for a Wizard to get withchild," Ron told her, "One is for their partner to cast a fertility spell on them during… the act, and the other is for a couple to… you know… on something called a ley line."
"I've heard of them! Even Muggles know about ley lines. It's magical energy running in bands around the earth that affects the things around it," Hermione looked relieved to finally hear something that she understood. Ginny was also looking interested, and Ron guessed that their mum hadn't included this information in her little talk about safe sex. His dad had handled the boys' talks, and had been bluntly informative about both methods of coupling, much to Ron's silent embarrassment at the time.
"The ley line picks up on the activity, and the wish of the two people involved, or the two anything actually, for children to come from the… union," Ron continued awkwardly, his face red, "It makes the… one receiving… fertile… and things go on from there."
"On our wedding night, Ron and I consummated the nuptials under the tree where dad bound us," Harry shrugged the shoulder Ron was resting on and he complained softly, "Madam Pomfrey thinks that there is a ley line running beneath the tree. Actually, that explains the twins, Ron. If your parents had sex under there twice in one…"
"I don't want to hear the rest of that!" Ginny clapped her hands over her ears and Harry blushed, subsiding into the pillows and muttering an apology. Ron snickered and leaned up to kiss him, nuzzling his cheek when their lips parted and putting his head back on Harry's shoulder.
"So you're having twins?" Hermione guessed and Ron spluttered, realising just what the answer would tell her about their sex life. Harry stretched sensuously and smiled at her. He must have picked up that expression on his face from the twins, Ron mused, because that was the look they used when they were about to answer a question you shouldn't have asked.
"Triplets," his tone was supremely satisfied, "And we're lucky that we weren't too keen to stay out in the cold…"
"I don't want to hear the rest of that, either!" Ginny squealed and Ron laughed, sitting up as the door to the elf tunnel opened and Dobby emerged with a tray. The elf had included four cups of tea and a plate of scones for them all, as well as fruit and sandwiches for Harry. Once the elf's congratulations had run their course and they were alone again, Hermione cleared her throat a little and shifted her tea from one hand to the other.
"Uh, no offence, but how will you actually…" she trailed off, but Ron understood what she meant. There wouldn't be many books in the library about this, and the few that were there she would have had no reason to read. He had no doubt that she'd be in there first thing tomorrow morning, searching them out, but in the meantime had to rely on what information they could give her.
"Well," Ron sighed, "The magic involved is pretty powerful. It creates a small conduit from the body of the bearer to a pocket of… non-space. Through the conduit the bearer passes all the nutrients and stuff the baby needs to grow, and once the baby is born it disappears immediately. This puts a lot of strain on the bearer though, and the casting we did to get rid of old Tom made things worse. Harry's body was dangerously off balance, which is why he didn't recover properly from the casting. He'll be seeing Madam Pomfrey every day for the next two weeks to take a lot of potions to help balance things out and stop the morning sickness. At the right time the magic will even create a birth canal for the baby to be born."
"How do you know all this stuff?" Ginny asked, gaping at him. He grimaced and rolled his eyes at her, shifting so that Harry could reach the plate of fruit. His spouse had eaten four sandwiches, but the plate kept refilling, so Ron didn't push for him to eat more. The fruit was Harry's favourite thing anyway - when his appetite was poor, Ron could always coax Harry into eating a piece of fruit.
"Dad," he told his sister, "He did the 'safe sex' thing for all of us boys, and when he found out I was marrying Harry he pulled me aside for the baby talk too."
"Yoicks," Ginny shook her head and then grinned, "I'd love to have seen that!"
"Will you get f… a belly?" typically, Hermione ignored the byplay in search of answers, and Harry nodded to her. Ron knew that Madam Pomfrey would have informed him thoroughly, and that Harry probably had a thousand questions for her anyway.
"A little one, not as big as a girl would. And before you ask, no I won't grow breasts," Harry blushed and bit into the banana he held. Hermione laughed, probably at the thought of Harry with breasts, and Ron kissed his partners cheek. His fingers caressed the reassurance that Harry needed to hear onto a hip, and Harry smiled in relief.
/I'll love you no matter what. You're stuck with me, Potter/
0oo0oo0
His in-laws had been and gone, enthusiastically accepting the good news. He was feeling a lot better too, though that was mainly due to Madam Pomfrey and her medicines. At least he was able to keep his breakfast down now, and Dobby was supplying him with as much fruit as he could possibly eat, as well as other simple foods. Fortunately someone - probably Hermione or Ginny - had circulated the rumour that the different foods were part of a diet set by the school matron. No one had questioned him about it so far, and he hoped that would continue.
Harry watched his first years competently weave in and out of the course he had designed for them. They were nearly at the end of term now, and he was starting to find flying a little uncomfortable, though his belly had expanded only a little. He had hidden that little fact by making his robes bigger. The baggy fabric hid the slight swell, and next term he would use glamour charms that Flitwick had shown him.
Beth Dunn had tried out for the position of Seeker and Harry was helping Ginny and Ron train her in the evenings. Truth told, Harry had the feeling that he would be grateful to have the extra time away from Quidditch practices as the NEWT's approached. Things were already hectic, and he and Ron would be returning to History of Magic next term as their teaching duties would be finished.
"Parker! Mind that tree!" Harry shouted to his hesitant flyer as the boy came a little too close to the Whomping Willow. Parker avoided it gracefully and Harry sighed in relief. He did not want to have to explain to anyone how one of his students had damaged the 'valuable tree that had been on the grounds since before he was born' as Snape had once yelled at him and Ron. Granted, they'd crashed a car into it, but still…
The last of his students cleared the course and Harry sent his broom back to the ground. He dismissed his class and shouldered his own broom, locking the shed door and heading up to the castle.
He spotted Neville and an owl in the foyer and grinned, hurrying to catch up with his friend. Neville was still waiting to hear from his Grandmother if he could accompany Harry and Ron to Potters Field for the Easter holidays to plant the garden that he had designed. With a bit of luck this would be the answer.
"Well?" Harry asked eagerly as Neville looked up from the letter. It was definitely his grandmothers' owl - the bird was spearing him with a very fierce glare, much the way Mrs Longbottom had.
"I can come," Neville said happily, "Gran said she'd send us a hamper, too. She knows I can't cook."
Harry laughed and clapped Neville on the shoulder. He'd learned to cook the Muggle way, but this holiday he was planning to try it the Wizarding way. Molly's gifts to him when he was sixteen were about to get a lot of use.
"I've got some books you can borrow," Harry promised, "In fact, I'll be learning too."
"It will be like old times!" Neville grinned, "Only this time we won't be learning life or death skills."
"Have you tasted Ron's cooking?" Harry shuddered mock seriously, "I think it's worse than Hagrid's. That makes it pretty much life or death as far as I'm concerned."
0oo0oo0