Written for the Incognito Elf exchange 2021 on the official H/G Discord server.
For SecretKeeper. I love you and I hope you'll like that story that I wrote with a lot of love and gin in my glass.
Thanks to Dusk for everything. I love you too.
A strong scent of leather jumped at Harry's nose when he climbed into the Hogwarts Express. Christmas carols and excited chatter reached his ears as Hedwig hooted with anger when Harry tilted her cage to fit properly in the alley.
He was careful to avoid the little puddles of melted snow on the floor left by the students' boots and trunks that had passed before him; he'd always hated when the bottom of his robe was wet.
The corner of his lips twitched as he watched Ron rolling his trunk directly into one without a care in the world, too focused on his discussion with Seamus. The Cannons' last game had sent Ron in a turmoil of emotions when he'd learned their seeker nearly caught the snitch for the first time in years. The enthusiasm in his voice mixed with the crushing sound of the small wheels of his trunk rolling on the gravel.
Some younger students were already sitting in their compartments, most of them wearing a Santa hat on their head and popping Bertie Bott's Every Flavor beans in their mouths. Their laughter warmed Harry's heart and their smiles were contagious, and as he passed them in search of their own compartment, they reminded him of him and Ron around the same age on the train ride. That euphoria of a new beginning after a whole summer at Privet Drive, of freedom and bliss, at least, until Voldemort or his Death Eater striked and attempt to murder him, once again.
The ambiance was definitely festive on the train and he noticed that the Hogwarts Express was meticulously decorated with Christmas wreaths above each door. Yet, he had trouble focusing on anything else than Malfoy and Snape's conversation he'd witnessed the night of Slughorn's party. He'd intended to talk about it to Ron when they were sitting alone.
Once they entered one of the last empty compartments, they made themselves comfortable, Harry putting his shoes on the leather bench in front of him. He pulled out a bag of sweets from HoneyDukes and made a mission to consume all of them with Ron before arriving in London.
As he watched the snowflakes twirling among the clouds and settling on the window of the train, the door of their compartment crack opened; his thoughts about Malfoy and Snape evaporated.
"Hey, Ron."
Harry could feel his heartbeat in his ears when his eyes landed on Ginny, now dressed in Muggle clothes with simple jeans and a jumper.
"Mmm?"
"Mum sent you this, but it was in my mail this morning."
"Oh, thanks!" said Ron, catching the muffins in midair as Ginny threw them.
"Hi, Harry," said Ginny, giving him the warmest smile. Her back was leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed, giving off a coolness Harry knew he'd never be able to muster.
Too busy gathering a semblance of words to reply, he didn't notice a carrot muffin flying towards his face until the last moment. He dipped his head just before it landed on his nose, and he managed to catch the unusual weapon.
Harry glared at Ron who had a smug smile on his face, while Ginny let out a laugh.
"Eat, they're bloody amazing," said his friend, before taking a bite of his own muffin.
Harry shook his head. "It's yours," he said, leaning forward and handing the muffin to Ron.
Ron's face molded itself in one of pure judgement, like Harry had just said the stupidest thing.
"Don't be daft, this one's for you," said Ginny. "Mum sent two to Ron knowing he'd be sitting with you on the train ride home."
"I told you, my mum's ecstatic you're coming this year. Ecstatic."
"Was he doubting it for real? Ugh, of course he was," said Ginny to Ron, who sighed and motioned to Harry, like to say "you know him".
Harry rolled his eyes. "Come on, I just wanted to, you know, make sure it was all good." He shrugged, knowing it was already a losing battle when those two teamed up against him..
Ginny shook her head and smiled at him. "Mum mentioned you were coming home for Christmas and asked me to help her make the menu in every letter she wrote to me in the last week. Believe me, it's the best Christmas gift you could ever give her."
She pointed at his bench. "Can I?"
"Oh! Of course, yeah. Yes," replied Harry in a haste. Removing his feet from the side of the other bench where Ron was sitting, he quickly gathered his things, making some place for Ginny to sit.
But she was already comfortable at Ron's side.
Harry slowly put down his handful of empty candy wrappers and hoped to be discreet enough to avoid alerting Ginny that he'd imagined her sitting at his side.
"You really need to speak to her again, Ron."
"I agree," chimed in Harry, knowing they were talking about Ron and Hermione.
Ginny nodded. "You're both going mad ignoring each other like that."
"Yeah, and honestly mate, we're going mad too-"
Ginny let out a laugh. "Bloody hell, yes!" she exclaimed, lifting up her hand to "high five" Harry. Their hands made contact for only the tiniest second, and yet, Harry had time to notice how her fingers were so short compared to his. Despite this, he'd witnessed enough Quidditch matches and practices to know how powerful her grip was.
He had the sudden wish to grasp them and be able to compare their fingers correctly as she rested her hand on her thigh.
Ron lifted his eyes to the ceiling and breathed through his nose in annoyance. "Don't you have a boyfriend you could annoy instead of me?"
Somehow, Harry's jaw squared at Ron's comment while Ginny contented herself to blink in an angelic manner to her brother. Harry watched Ginny blow a kiss to his brother; he felt the bottom of his stomach flip and prefered turning his head to Hedwig. The owl was sleeping in her cage, unperturbed by anything that had just transpired.
The door opened once again and Neville smiled at them, a plant in his arms. Harry couldn't help but have a flash of memory of the train ride in fifth year, when he'd been sitting with Ginny, Neville and his new plant of the time. He could remember full well the shame he felt when Cho had said hi to him while his face was coated with a slimy fluid coming from Neville's plant. He'd been so annoyed to be seen sitting with them and being in such a ridiculous position at the worst time possible.
How foolish he'd been now that he realized just how grateful he was for their presence in his life. Cho hadn't been fighting with him at the Ministry and wasn't the kind of person he really wanted to be around these days. Neville and Ginny gave off a pleasant energy, one Harry found comfort in. He was at ease in their presence, knowing he wouldn't have to rattle his brain like a mad man to fill every silence in fear they'd burst into tears or say behind his back that he was, in fact, totally boring.
Ginny was describing to the other boys with perfect accuracy —Harry could remember— how boring her last classes of History of Magic had been before the holidays, the ones focused on questions the students could find on the OWLS exam.
"Those classes were the bloody worst," said Ron, caressing Erol in his cage.
Neville chuckled. "If you need help in Herbology, Ginny, I could study with you."
"And I can help in, I don't know, DADA I guess. If you ever need me, I mean," said Harry. He really hoped she'd say yes, but only because a study night making jokes in the library with Ginny seemed more attractive than one with Hermione, where they needed to be in silence.
"Thank you, I'll keep it in mind. Dean already offered, but-"
"Oh! Speaking of which, Ginny, Dean asked me to ask you if you'd join him soon if I was passing by you. I forgot to tell you," Neville said with a sheepish voice. "I hope I'm not too late or anything."
Ginny lifted her eyes to the ceiling and then gave Neville a reassuring smile. "Nah, that's all fine. Well, I guess I'd better go right now then," she said, getting up and moving to the door.
"Right, er, bye," mumbled Harry, faking a smile when she waved at him.
"Yeah, see you on the platform."
Harry turned to Ron with the intent to ask him if he was imagining how Ginny had looked annoyed at the prospect of joining Dean. However, he saw that Ron had already opened his new Quidditch magazine, so he decided to keep this to himself. He sighed and looked at the window once again, sure that the train was going as fast as his racing heart.
He was warmly welcomed by every member of the Weasleys family, including Fleur. Ginny hadn't even had the time to put her trunk in her room when Fleur was already questioning her about what Dean would wear at her wedding with Bill.
Stopping in the stairway, Harry couldn't help but wait for Ginny's response, his blood pumping in his ears.
To his surprise, Ginny had frowned and told Fleur to wait before adding Dean to the list of invites, pointing out that August was still so far. A smile formed on Harry's lips and, as he was climbing the stairs with his own trunk, he heard Fleur mentioning to Bill that Harry would be at Ron, Ginny, and the twins' table. With a spring on his step, he'd placed his things in Ron's room, before hurrying when Ron called his name for a game of chess.
Ginny was looking at him, waiting for him to make his move at their own game of chess. It had been Ron's idea, who was observing every move they made, which was adding to the discomfort.
Ginny cleared her throat.
Harry looked up at her and smirked. "I'd prefer not to be disturbed," said Harry, who was sitting on the floor in the living room.
She gasped, faking being offended by his response. "Excuse me? How am I disturbing you?"
Just by looking at me, he wanted to answer.
"Er, you know," said Harry, motioning at the chessboard, racking his brain for a better response.
"Oh, I see. I'm too good at chess and you're afraid I'd judge you."
Harry rolled his eyes at her. "Right, that's exactly it. When I saw how good you were at losing yesterday, I wondered how I could be that bad!"
Ginny playfully threw an angry, screaming Queen at him, making Harry laugh. "You, prat!"
Ron got up from the couch. "Okay, I'll go get poor myself a cup of tea. Call me when you're finished with your first move, Harry!"
"You should stay then, he always finishes so fast!" said Ginny to her brother who laughed.
Harry narrowed his eyes at her, but couldn't help but grin at her joke. "I know what you just did there and I'm not going to fall for it."
Ginny mimicked his smile. "That's a shame."
"Could you tell me why you're playing chess when we could do a match of Quidditch, guys?" asked Charlie, taking Ron's place on the couch.
"You know what? I was just thinking the same thing!" said Harry, making Ginny laugh.
Ron came back with his cup and put it on a table at his side. "So, we switch to Quidditch?"
"We'll never be as good as you, Master of chess," said Ginny, and Ron threw her a pillow.
"Seriously, I don't know why I put up with you."
"You don't know yet? I've been in the family for fifteen years. What kind of Master-"
"Oh, shut-" began Ron, but stopped mid-sentence when Ginny threw the pillow back at him.
"So, how do we make the team? Ron and me together, Harry and Ginny together? I'll ask the twins too," said Charlie.
"I want Harry!" said Ginny. Harry's brain went to his last dream involving her, feeling his jeans tighten, to his horror. For fuck's sake, the Christmas break would be long if he wouldn't be able to think of something else each time he'd hear some innuendos. Yet, his neck felt hot knowing Ginny wanted him in her team.
"That's not fair," said Ron.
"Too bad, I said it first."
Ron narrowed his eyes. "Maybe, but-"
Harry laughed at their antics, feeling his cheeks warm. "Don't worry, Ginny. Ron won't have me, whatever what he offered me. I'm loyal. I'll always be yours and only yours," he said without thinking.
Ginny blinked at him several times before turning her face quickly.
"Oh! How cute," said Charlie while Ron put his finger in his mouth.
Clearing her throat, Ginny got up and then rushed to put away the chessboard in the living room cabinet. Harry felt his face burn, wishing he could disappear into the carpet.
Mrs. Weasley arrived with a plate of freshly baked gingerbreads and turned to Ginny, grinning. "Ginny, I have a surprise for you! I invited Dean for Christmas Eve. He'll join us tomorrow morning!"
Ginny's eyes were wide. "Oh."
It was Fred and George's idea to ask a tipsy Arthur if they could open his bottle of Ogden's Firewhiskey, to which Harry admittedly thought was a waste of time until Mr. Weasley graced them with a big smile and said "go ahead!" while Remus chuckled.
After Remus told him at dinner about how he'd spent the last couple of months spying on other werewolves for the Order and how Greyback loved to bite children on the full moon, Harry jumped at the occasion.
The twins, Dean and himself had all gathered in front of the scullery while Ron, who was the tallest of the gang, was sent to fetch the bottle.
Ginny joined them. "Sorry, I stopped to pet Hedwig. She was making those cute sounds of hers when I walked past and I couldn't resist her."
Harry's heart warmed. "I bet she loved that."
Ron returned a moment later and popped the cork, attracting his mother's attention. Despite their good will, Mrs. Weasley was adamant that wouldn't happen tonight.
"What would I look like?!" asked Mrs. Weasley, her tone leaving no place for argument. She had her hands on her hips and a bit of floor on her nose, apron, and pointy hat. "No, no one who's underage will drink under this roof if I don't have the permission of their parents first."
"Oops! Ron, abort! Abort the mission!" called Harry with a smile, intending to make a joke. It was a bit of a bold move, considering his spectators, so he reckoned that Fred and George had spiked the punch, once again.
He saw Ron putting the back of his hand on his mouth as he snorted and turned to hide. Despite his better judgement, Harry couldn't help but turn his head to Ginny, his heart racing fast in hope he'd lead her to laugh too. He sent her a radiant smile as he watched her pinch her lips together to keep herself from laughing at his dark humor, her eyes wide. It was refreshing to be around a girl who wasn't always gasping in horror every time he was laughing at his own life, like Hermione.
He'd never gotten the feeling Ginny wanted to fix him. There was something refreshing to be around Ginny; she'd never pushed him to be someone he wasn't like Hermione did or expected him to remove all the distress in her heart like Cho made him feel last year —moreover since Cedric had been killed by his fault. When he was around Ginny, he felt seen. He didn't need to play a role or act in a certain way around her, which made his inside twisted in a weird way each time his eyes were crossing Dean's.
To his complete horror though, Ginny wasn't like her mother who had fallen silent, startled, just like her husband and Dean. The twins, for their parts, looked to be frozen in place, mid way between laughter and astonishment.
The sound of Celesta Warbeck's Christmas song on the wireless and sudden laughter from the living room were all they could hear.
Harry wanted to squirm under their gazes, hoping he'd kept it shut and hadn't fucked their evening with his stupid joke. "I wasn't serious-" he began, hesitant.
Mrs. Weasley moved towards him with her arms wide open, engulfing him in one of the tightest hugs she'd ever given him. Despite the mild pain in his ribcage from how hard she was pressing him against her chest, he felt instant relief and comfort to be held like that. Her red hair was smelling like the roast she'd put in the stove a moment ago and he was certain his jumper would be full of the flour all over her apron.
Loosening her grip, Mrs. Weasley lifted her face to his, and he noticed her eyes were full of unshed tears, making it difficult for him to look her in the eyes. He'd caused this, on Christmas Eve. What the bloody hell was wrong with him?
"Oh, dear, I wasn't- that's different. That's totally different!" she said while removing his glasses from his face.
He blinked to help his awful eyesight focus on her face the best it could, and saw she was wiping them on her apron. "That's your home, here! I certainly can make the decision for you and make sure you're okay." She put her warm hand on his freshly shaved cheek and smiled before removing it and turning her head over her shoulder to look at the others in the room. "Maybe I could floo your mother, Dean?"
Ginny bit her bottom lip; Harry decided it was better to avert his eyes and watched the family clock hands moving Percy's face to "traveling".
"Hum, I don't think so, Mrs. Weasley. My mother, you see, hum, she's a muggle and-"
"Oh, really? That's marvellous! Wonderful!"
"You didn't tell us his mother was a muggle, Ginny!"
Harry looked as Ginny crossed her arms and shrugged, her eyes closed. "I guess I forgot."
Bending his head to look at his girlfriend, Dean faked a smile, and Harry was observant enough that something in his eyes was off.
"Ginny, sweetheart, I might steal your boyfriend for a little instant. I want to discuss the fabulous thing I learned about last week."
"It would be my pleasure, Mr. Weasley!" said Dean with a big smile. "You okay with it, Ginny?" asked Dean, putting his hand on her shoulder in what Harry considered being such a platonic way. It made him confused: that wasn't the kind of gesture a boyfriend would do to his girlfriend, unless—
"Sure! Yes! Please, go ahead! Have fun with my father!" replied Ginny in haste. Harry admitted he wasn't the most observant, but it was evident Dean's shoulders had relaxed.
Harry wondered if it was because he was excited to talk with Arthur or there was something else going on. It wasn't his business, no, but he couldn't help but be a bit curious.
"Excellent!" exclaimed Mr. Weasley. Dean's cheeks harbored a mild blush caused by all the attention Mr. Weasley was giving him.
With his arm behind Dean's back, Ginny's father and boyfriend walked to the living room, discussing the complexity of electric vacuums. Annoyance flared with a surprising force in Harry's stomach, one similar to the day in September when Ginny had left him alone to find a compartment in the Hogwarts Express to meet Dean. He was well aware of how stupid it was to be bothered by the fact Mr. Weasley hadn't asked him his questions about vacuums —he'd never hear the end of it if Ron or the twins would learn about it— but yet, it felt like he was a second choice now.
Harry felt a pang in his heart as he imagined how next summer, Mr. Weasley would be more excited to see Dean than him. It started with Ginny, then Mrs. Weasley, then Mr. Weasley, and Ron would surely be next…
"Harry, dear, are you okay?" she said, her hand on his cheek. He looked at her confused but was saved from responding. "Oh my goodness! My potatoes!" cried Mrs. Weasley, walking to the stove as fast as her small legs could allow her to do.
"I'm on it, Molly! Don't worry!" cried Mr. Weasley, who had bewitched the potato crusher to mash the boiled potatoes directly into the cauldron.
"So, hum, I understand we can taste Dad's old Ogden, Mum?" shouted Ron, the old bottle still opened in his hand.
Mrs. Weasley turned her head around, looking at her son with a frown. "One sip. And I'm serious, Ronald, just one! Merlin's beard, I better not learn anyone took more than that!"
"Molly, let the kids be-" began Mr. Weasley as he walked to the living room again to join Dean and Remus.
"Promise!" exclaimed with excitement Ron, sending then a grin to Harry. In two quick motions, Ron had already opened the cabinets where the glasses were. He took out four tiny ones with some etchings on them —Harry had no idea what they were representing— and then Harry noticed Ron putting one in his pocket.
Fred motioned to them to move to a corner of the living room as George was leading the way. The twins started making disgusted noises when they all walked past Fleur and Bill who were snogging like their lives depended on it.
George and Fred transfigured old Witch Weekly magazines into chairs and they sat in a close circle. Harry saw Ginny looking over her shoulder and followed her eyes to see she was watching Dean, deep in a conversation. She frowned but then turned around, catching Harry's eyes and sending him a tiny smile. Ron had already begun to pour liquor into each glass, what Harry considered being more than a generous sip.
Ron gave Harry his glass as Fred and George took theirs.
"But- But, where's mine?" asked Ginny, offended.
"Oh! Right! It's just-" began Ron.
"Do you think I can't put up with you, guys?"
"Do we look mad?" asked George.
"Take mine!" cut Harry, pressing the tiny glass in her hand. The contact between their fingers sends shivers down his spine.
Ginny looked into his eyes with a frown. "No, it's yours! I just- I just assumed my brothers would have counted me in. Nevermind," she said, her voice veiled with defeat. She made a move to get up, but Harry couldn't let her leave like that. Harry's fingers grazed her wrist in a tender way to attract her attention before quickly putting down his hand.
"We could share the same, I don't care! I mean, if you want. You don't have to- there must be-"
Ginny's eyes were wide as she looked at him. "You sure? I wouldn't want-"
"Certain! Seriously!" he responded with a big smile.
"Oh. Hum," said Ginny, sitting down again and putting a strand of her long hair behind her ear. "Okay, then."
Harry's cheeks hurt and he felt a bit giddy as his eyes were locked with Ginny's, giving him for a moment the faint impression they were alone in the room. "Brillant!"
"Thank you-"
"Are you finished, you two?" exclaimed Ron, a glass dangling from his fingers. Harry's smile fell as Ginny turned to her brother with a frown. A mild panic flourished in his stomach.
"Yeah, that was completely-" began Fred.
"and utterly-" continued George.
"painful to watch," said Fred.
George nodded solemnly. "I'm glad we agree on that, dear brother of mine."
Harry's cheeks grew hot and couldn't help but notice that Ginny's face was flushed too.
Ron ignored his brothers and turned to his sister. "Look," he said, pointing at the glass in his hand, "I hadn't forgotten about you, Ginny. I just hadn't pulled out the glass that I'd hidden in my pocket for you yet."
George's face illuminated. "Do you see that, Fred? Our little brother makes us so proud!"
"We taught him so well, George!" said Fred, clapping his brother's shoulder, causing Ron to send them a well-deserved glare.
"I don't know why you're ready to jump at everyone's throat today," he said to Ginny as he frowned, causing his sister to wince. "You're the one who needs it the most, bloody hell. I"m doing us all a favor."
"Ron, come on-" warned Harry, his tone serious, but he was cut off by Ginny.
"I'm sorry, Ron. It wasn't fair of me. I'm just a bit of a mess."
"Ah, but you're our mess, Ginny!" exclaimed a now tipsy Fred, but Ginny ignored him.
Ron shook his head as if to say "don't worry about it" and then pressed the glass into her hand.
While surprised and worried for Ginny, Harry admitted he was a bit relieved of how it ended; he wasn't feeling like separating those two once again on Christmas Eve.
"I'm not always trying to annoy you, like you do to me, you know," added Ron, to Harry's annoyance.
Ginny's eyes glinted as she lifted the glass close to her red lips. "Pfft. Annoying you is what I'm best at, you'd miss it! Be honest."
"Mmhmm," mumbled Ron, though the corner of his lip curved up. He lifted his glass and Harry followed suit. "At 3. 1-2-3!"
The liquid burnt Harry's throat and he welcomed the sensation. As he put down his glass on the small table in front of him, a loud thud resonated outside, causing everyone in the living room to jump and stop talking.
The only sounds left were Christmas songs on the wireless and their loud breathing. They all looked at each other, pulling out their wands and getting up as Fleur, Bill and Mrs. Weasley joined them in the living room, worried lines plastered on their faces.
"I'll go see what that's about," said Mr. Weasley, his wand ready at his side.
Remus nodded. "Yes, I'm coming too."
"Arthur," whispered Mrs. Weasley, her pointy hat crooked on her head. Her husband nodded, his face severe.
"Wait for us, we're coming with you two," said Bill, motioning to his fiance and Charlie.
"I'm coming too," said Harry, but Remus turned to face him and shook his head.
Ron, Fred, George, Ginny and Dean all gathered close to Harry when Mrs. Weasley opened her mouth. "That's out of the question! You're underage, Harry Potter!"
"Mum! Do you expect us to stay here and wait?!" cried Ron.
"You, yes," said Fred, looking at his younger brother with a rare frown on his face.
George squeezed Ginny's shoulder as he passed her and joined Fred. "But not us," he said to Ron.
"Ron, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, "You both stay here. I trust you to take care of Ginny." Harry didn't like to stay behind, but the idea of living Ginny alone here didn't sit well with him either.
Harry nodded, closing the distance between an angry Ginny and himself, ready to protect her with his life if he needed to. The simple idea of someone touching one hair on her hair made him clenched his fist tighter around his wand.
"Yeah, stay close to me, Ginny," said Dean, his wand lifted. Harry frowned when he saw how Dean was holding his wand too loosely, wondering if he'd learned anything at the classes he gave last year in the Room of Requirement. Harry wasn't going to trust Dean to take care of Ginny.
Ginny turned to her boyfriend. "Don't! I can take care of myself, thank you! I think I told you enough times lately," she said as her family left the room. Dean rolled his eyes.
She hit the floor with her foot, reminding Harry of the time she did that at Grimmauld Place when she was angry at her mother. She moved to her chair and poured herself another glass of firewhiskey.
Fleur and Bill were the first to return, their hair full of shiny snowflakes. "It was only your useless owl, Ron," laughed Bill while Fleur flicked her wand to dry her long blonde hair and Harry breathed out in relief.
"I've never seen such an owl," said Mrs. Weasley, stepping in the living room and shaking her head in disbelief.
"Hey, don't talk like that of Pig," said Ginny. "It's not his fault!"
Ron thanked his sister. "Yeah, and Errol is worse."
"They can't all be like Hedwig," said Ginny, shrugging.
His cheeks still hurt from smiling so much. The lack of multiple bathrooms at the Burrow had often been a source of argument between the kids, and that's how he'd found himself brushing his teeth in the bathroom upstairs with Ron, Ginny, and Dean.
Ron and Dean had finished the first and left to get dressed in their pajamas, leaving Harry and Ginny alone.
They were smiling at each other in the mirror when Ginny was the first to stick her tongue out, which created a war of grimaces, leaving Harry a bit giddy.
Harry's feet graced the floorboards of the door of Ron's bedroom to offer his help in putting on bed sheets, he was welcomed by the sight of levitating beds. While he'd gone putting on his pajamas, Mrs. Weasley had been preparing the bedroom for Dean, Ron, and himself. He frowned at the scene, watching Mrs. Weasley's face contort in concentration as she transfigured Ron's desk into a pillow.
A nightstand flew towards Ron, who bent down quickly to avoid being hit by its corner. "Oi!"
"Oh my goodness! Sorry, dear!" said an horrified Mrs. Weasley, a hand on her lips.
After making sure her son wasn't hurt, she returned to her work and started waving her wand again. Harry watched as the furniture moved around and switched places multiple times.
"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I didn't know staying for the night would cause this," said Dean, who was at Ron's side. His lips were pinched in worry and his eyes squinted when he heard the thud of Ron's bed hitting a wall.
"Oh no, dear! It was all my doing. I invited you and I don't regret it at all. Don't worry about it. We'll find a way for the three of you to sleep here," replied Ron's mother, her eyes fixed on what she was doing.
Harry watched as Dean's shoulders relaxed and then saw him lean against the wall, looking in disbelief at all the moving furniture. Peering down at his bare feet, Harry noticed how worn down the bottoms of his pajama pants were and felt a shame flooding his face. It was the first time that he was feeling like this about his clothes at the Burrow. Unlike his own, Dean's pajamas looked new and, despite fully knowing how the Weasleys wouldn't judge him for his clothes, he still felt uncomfortable thinking of how Ginny could compare them.
Despite his best efforts, his eyes sought the cupboard in the middle of the corridors; he was sure everyone in the house would be able to hear his heart pumping. Harry couldn't fight the images of the nights he was left alone in the dark, fighting with short breaths his growing panic of feeling too tight in the cupboard under the stairs. With a shaky breath, he wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans
Deep down, he knew the Weasleys wouldn't consider it an option, but at the same time, it was clear that he was the extra person in the house. Just like at Privet Drive. Without him, Mrs. Weasley wouldn't have been in Ron's room, racking her brain to make everyone fit in.
As he moved further in Ron's room in hope to catch Mrs. Weasley's eyes and propose to her to sleep on the couch, Ginny and Mr. Weasley, dressed in their pajamas, arrived at his side.
"Remus is installed in Percy's room. Have you found a solution yet, Molly?" asked Arthur.
Mrs. Weasley signed. "Not yet," she said, concentrating on moving the furniture in the bedroom with a flick of her wand.
"Dean could sleep in Ginny's bedroom," proposed Ron, which earned him a scandalized look from his mother. An image of a messy haired Ginny sleeping in Dean's naked arms all night flashed in Harry's mind. His shoulders tensed and his fist clenched around his wand in his pajama pants.
"I could sleep on the couch, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry after releasing his grip from his wand, knowing how ridiculous he was reacting to the idea of Dean being in Ginny's bed. It would happen one way or another one day so he'd better stop acting like a complete idiot and brace himself for the eventual blow.
As much as he tried, his mind started spiralling to when the Weasleys would stop inviting him for the summer holidays, now that they were aware of how bloody complicated it was to find a bed for both Dean and him. They would always prioritize Ginny's boyfriend, of course, leading to Harry spending the next whole summer alone at the Dursleys and the next Christmases alone; if he wasn't already dead.
"There's no way you're sleeping on the couch, Harry," said Mr. Weasley. "It's your home here. We'll find a way."
Harry shrugged. "No, seriously, I've slept in worse conditions. I can move to the-"
He caught Ginny's gaze and saw how her face was pinched with worry, and then felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder. Mr. Weasley squeezed it. "What about removing the nightstand there, Molly? Would another bed fit if we put it against that wall?"
Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "I've tried it, but-" she said, biting her tongue in concentration. "Ah! Ha! I think I've got it. I'll move your desk into Percy's bedroom with Remus and we'll have enough place for a third bed here."
"That's a wonderful idea, Molly!"
"Nobody will spend a night on our old couch, Harry, dear. We'll always make space for you. I promise."
Harry caught Ginny's bright smile and somehow, knew he'd sleep well that night.
Stepping inside the kitchen, he was hit with how calm and peaceful the atmosphere was at night compared to some hours ago when the Christmas party had taken place. The dancing flames of the candles were low and Harry heard the wind whistling through the window. He could see outside tree branches quivering and dancing into the chilly breeze of the winter night sky as the wind made the snowflakes whirled.
While he loved to experience a real Christmas celebration with the Weasleys and was more than grateful for their invitation, Harry wasn't disappointed that the frenzy was over for the day. The mix of loud discussions, too much sugar, boring music, and a bit of alcohol had left Harry with a mild headache at the end of the night. Despite all this, he would forever cherish the opportunity the Weasleys gave him nonetheless.
As he opened the kitchen cabinet to take out a glass, he heard the wooden stairs behind him creak.
"Hey, Harry. Couldn't sleep?" asked Dean with a joyful tone.
Harry's lips pressed themselves in a thin line as he moved to the sink to pour himself some cold water. "Apparently," he responded without turning his head. While the water flowed from the tap into his glass, Harry closed his eyes and exhaled from his nose. He couldn't exactly pinpoint when Dean started to annoy him that much, nor why just seeing his smiling face gave him the urge to hex him.
Yet, Dean had done nothing to him and transpired frivolity and gentleness. Until that year, they had always gotten along and he'd shared amazing moments with him and the other boys in their dorm. Maybe it was because Dean seemed to have it so easy, being the epitome of carefreeness, while Harry felt like the destiny of the world was weighing on his shoulders.
Harry was being unfair and a git —that much was clear— but he still couldn't help but struggle being in his presence this year.
The truth was that what Harry was cherishing the most seemed to be snatched from under his nose by Dean, causing him to close off in fear of being replaced.
Dean would perhaps be officially a Weasley one day. Harry's stomach contracted thinking of Dean being welcomed by Mrs. Weasley's cooking and bone breaking hugs or Ron's claps on the back. Ron, his first ever friend, with his warm smiles, infinite generosity, snarky comments, and never-ending games of chess.
He frowned as he imagined Fred and George trying to make Dean drink one of their new inventions and Bill and Charlie telling him about their past adventures in the Wizarding world. Mr. Weasley showing Dean his precious shed or accompanying him at the Ministry popped in his mind, followed by Percy quibbling him for a minor detail. Harry gritted his teeth when an image of Dean holding Ginny's arse, her legs pinned against his waist as they furiously snogged, appeared in his mind.
As if Harry wasn't irritated enough, Dean leaned against the counter next to him, his arms crossed and smiling like an annoying idiot.
"Er, do you want a glass of water?" asked Harry.
"Please. I reckon I could search around myself but I'd prefer not. I don't know where they keep everything, yet."
Harry nodded. "Of course. That's normal," he said, filling a glass of water for Dean.
Harry then moved further and leaned against the wooden table, contenting himself to gulp his water and not feeling like making small talk with Dean at that moment.
"Ginny's family is really fun, I understand why you'd wanted to come here so often!"
"Mmm," muttered Harry. He took another sip of his water, wishing it would have been something stronger.
"It's not fair you'd kept it for yourself all those years," said Dean as he opened the cabinet, and then he chuckled. Against all odds, Harry refrained from snapping at him —and even punching his nose.
To Harry's annoyance, Dean moved to the sink and opened the tap as he was about to spill his water in it to leave the room as quickly as possible.
"Ginny, I don't think she knows I bought her a gift. I mean, to be fair with her, we were a bit on thin ice before I came here. Like, she's nice and funny and bloody fit too, it's not that, but that temper, mate. I wouldn't know where to start."
"Don't start then."
Dean grinned. "Yeah sorry, I know dating dramas have never been your thing."
Harry left out a humourless chuckle. "Right, because apparently my thing is to fight deranged murderers and try to stay alive for the next year of school."
Dean winced. "Yeah, that's bonkers, mate."
Shrugging, Harry moved towards the sink. "We all have our little challenges, haven't we?" he said with sarcasm.
"Er, I guess," replied an uncomfortable Dean as Harry moved towards the sink. "So, er, yeah. I bought her a notebook. I remember her asking me for drawing lessons so-"
"Lovely," mumbled Harry, who hadn't paid attention, too focused on getting out of there.
"Seamus said the same! And I think so too. Seriously, I had no bloody idea of what to buy her and I mean, she'd told me once she missed writing so when I saw it at Flourish and Blotts yesterday-"
Harry was taking one last gulp when his body stilled and he felt his heart stop. "Wait, you bought her what?!"
Dean looked at him like he was crazy. "I just told you."
Harry breathed through his nose, not being in the mood for this. He narrowed his eyes at Dean. "Then, repeat."
"I said I bought her a notebook. Why? What's the problem? You had a better idea maybe?" spat Dean.
A hundred of better ideas —most coming from Quidditch Supplies— crossed Harry's mind. "Has she told you she wanted this?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.
Dean frowned. "Er, not really. I assumed it would be a cool gift. I mean, I love receiving new notebooks and Seamus was with me when I chose it. He found it really cool."
Harry's hand clenched around his glass. "Then, maybe you should give it to Seamus," he said, spilling the rest of his water in the sink. "Believe me, Dean. I'm saving your arse right now. It's better you have nothing in the morning than that notebook."
Dean narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. "Hum, and could you enlighten me on the matter?"
Harry shook his head. "It's not my place to tell you, but don't give her that. I'm bloody serious."
Dean huffed. "Right."
"Brillant. Good night."
Just as he was about to climb the stairs, Harry stopped and turned his head over his shoulder. "And Dean, if I see her opening that gift in the morning, I won't be that nice."
After Percy left with Rufus Scrimgeour, leaving his mother in tears, Harry had tried to not close up —really, he'd tried— but an intense rush of shame and anger had taken possession of him. Thus, when his discussion with the Minister had ended and once he'd removed his robe and snowy boots at the entry, he'd thought it better to just give everyone some space.
At the kitchen table, Ron, Ginny, Bill and Arthur had called his name, but he'd apologized and gone sitting in the armchair in the living room, where he'd known he'd be left alone in peace. He prefered it at Dean's leery and curious eyes on him or the way he murmured ceaselessly into Ginny's ear.
Harry hated how his behavior reminded him of last Christmas at Grimmauld Place, but he didn't feel like looking anyone in the eyes and faking a smile at the moment.
Irritation flared in his stomach: how come he couldn't spend one fucking Christmas without something reminding him he was different? That wherever he'd go, that bloody prophecy would follow him and put the people he cared about in situations that had nothing to do with them?
He shouldn't have come. He should have refused Mrs. Weasley's invitation. Hell, yeah, he reckoned he couldn't have known the Minister would have stepped inside the house like it was his and that Christmas Eve would have ended up with half the Weasleys in tears; because he'd never put a foot in here otherwise.
As the flames reflected in his glasses, Harry couldn't believe how Scrimgeour had dared come to the Burrow on Christmas day to ask him to fake working with the Ministry of Magic.
Remus had brought him a mug filled with mulled wine, a finger on his lips. As his professor looked behind his shoulder to make sure Mrs. Weasley hadn't seen anything, he squeezed his shoulder and then left him.
With his forearms on his thighs, his eyebrows knitted in a frown and his jaw tense, Harry pressed the hot mug in his hands, seeking the comfort of its warmth against his fingertips. He blinked and then drew a deep sigh, the heady scent of the hot wine flooding his nose. It was overwhelming to be expected to save the Wizarding world against the maddest wizard of the last century when most of that world had called him a liar and accused him of being thirsty for a fame he'd never wanted —nor dreamed of— only some months ago.
The cold of her fingers clashed with the warmth of his own skin when her hands took his. He stilled, his shoulders bracing for the tiniest second. The reflex of engulfing her fingers between his palms to warm them happened to be difficult to resist, so he did, pressing them in a gentle manner. He was ready to throw an evasive reply, one burning the tip of his tongue, if someone dared to point it out to Ginny.
Harry didn't dare to look at her though, not yet, so he focused his gaze on the specific features of her hands, taking notes of every little scratch or how she seemed to bite her nails. It annoyed him somehow to not know if it was when she was bored in class, or if it was in moments of stress. A flare of jealousy squeezed his heart, thinking Dean surely knew that about her, but he didn't .
It was the first time, Harry realized, that he was close enough to Ginny to notice how much bigger his fingers were compared to hers. How the cold wind of the season caused the skin on top of his own hands to crack at some places, while the softness of Ginny's skin sent shivers down his spine at every friction.
Ginny's short nails were painted red for Christmas, something he'd never really taken the time to notice on another girl, or cared to for that matter. Yet, on Ginny, that nail polish had something endearing to it, because he'd noticed she'd never painted them in the last few months. He'd had enough time to observe futile and meaningless details like that about her at every Quidditch practice. Not that he'd ever admitted he was busy inspecting every inch of Ginny's body instead of searching for the snitch, mind you.
She'd decided to make an exception and to paint them for the occasion, he reckoned. Once again, her fervent love and excitement for Christmas (as he'd been able to note by the multiple garlands she created for the Burrow) made him spiralled and considered Christmas time around her every year, his tongue now dried in his mouth.
He wasn't ready to reflect on the exact significance of his body's reactions every time Ginny appeared in his sight or his thoughts, but it wasn't like he was that daft either. Thus, he'd felt obligated to do what he'd done numerous times lately considering who she was, but most importantly who he was and what was expected of him in a supposely short future: he stopped his train of idiotic and scatty thoughts, preventing himself to envisage the impossible, like he'd done with the mirror of Erised. Dumbledore's wisdom had been right in regard to the duality of your deepest dreams: they brought you a great sentiment of hope and joy for something that generally happened to be beyond the bounds of possibility, thenceforth evoking a despair and forlornness weakening anybody's logical reasoning.
Each day, Harry understood a bit more that Ginny Weasley could have had that secret power over him, which scared the hell out of him. Some mornings when he woke up from a great dream involving her, after the calming euphoria left his nerves, he was left with a tight throat and a migraine. Harry pondered this a million times over the course of the last weeks and couldn't tell if he'd really felt that after every nightmare of Voldemort he'd ever had. Once he'd taken his breath in his bedsheets, both usually provided him with a racing heart and were as terrifying as the other, because both had the power to destroy him.
The difference Harry noticed when he compared the dark emotions he'd come to experience with the visions of his parents in the Mirror of Erised and the intense loss of well-being and comfort when he'd wake up from a dream with Ginny, was that at her side, he was living like he'd never done instead of forgetting to live his own life.
The easiest solution was then to do what he'd always done since childhood: just lie, be, and hope for the best.
It was in moments like these that he had to fight harder though, because the real Ginny was never letting him plunge headfirst into his habitual broodiness or giving him the time to use the usual shell he kept up around everybody. It felt good to be in her presence, to let his mind wander to something else than sure death and war. She brought a smile to his lips more often than not with her sarcastic wit and enticing demeanor. When he realized how her mere presence in the same room as he always made his steps felt lighter, he decided to put it on a strong brotherly feeling, surely caused by the intense need to protect her since he knew her.
It was safer.
Yet, pushed by the effervescence of the holidays in the comfort of the Burrow, Harry just wanted to follow his heart and stopped avoiding the feelings she created inside him, no matter how scary, illogical, or even painful they were. It happened to be an onerous task when his gaze could so easily fall on Dean or Ron, smashing in those instants the foolish emotions he was, for once, trying to accept.
Those were little things about Ginny that made his stomach flutter every time without exception.
To respect Dean, Harry swallowed the urge to pass the tip of his thumb on the red color.
"Look at me."
Harry lifted his head and met Ginny's unblinking bright eyes, ones full of a familiarity and kindness he'd rarely observed in anyone else's eyes. The fire cracking behind her gave her long hair a mesmerizing glow and he thought he could lose himself in every little detail of her.
"I don't know much about what will happen to us, and for my own sanity, I prefer not to consider the possibilities. Not today anyway," said Ginny, and Harry noticed the small frown on her face.
He watched as she closed her eyes, her long eyelashes caressing her rosy skin, and then felt a short pressure around his fingers.
"There's not much I can promise you those days, but I can promise you this and I want you to hear each word correctly: you'll never be lonely anymore as long as I'm here, Harry Potter. There's just so much you can bear alone again, so I'll be at your side. No matter what. We'll all be."
Her tender voice reverberated against every fiber of his skin, creating goosebumps on his arms, or maybe it was the sensation of loneliness that lived inside his soul since he could remember that unexpectedly left it. Her promise, that simple alignment of words, hit him with such a puissance, it left him weak and shaky inside.
Like he'd lost the ability to blink or breathe, he stayed still, repeating her words in his mind like the most important incantation he'd ever had to learn. His heart was desperately begging his mind to believe those words, because they were hers. He could trust her, he repeated to himself again and again, longing the possibility he could stop building bridges between himself and everyone for once. Between himself and Ginny, most importantly.
The floral scent of her hair tugged him back to consciousness. "You-" he began before his voice broke off. Swallowing the lump in his throat with difficulty, he decided to stay silent, sure he'd stammer and make a fool of himself.
The vertige he'd felt when she'd started caressing the side of his hand with her thumb had looked like he'd been knocked off his feet. The tender movement emitted a simple intimacy he hadn't known he'd wished to share with someone until then. However, Harry couldn't let himself plunge into the sensation without considering Dean or wondering if it felt like that for him too when Ginny was holding his hand.
Or maybe he was just even more fucked up than he thought he was. Surely, Dean wasn't as desperate for the moment to never end as Harry was every time her skin brushed his. Dean probably never pressed her palms with his to touch Ginny as much as he could, like an anchor to stay sane. Maybe, just maybe, Dean never feared she'd leave him alone with his feelings and demons, unaware of the turmoil in his mind, of the weight of having to protect everyone in this room.
But again, Harry wanted to believe Dean had never experienced that moment when he'd felt like his hands had been made to fit in hers and only hers.
Harry was also certain Dean had never been as obsessed as he was about her bright, fierce eyes peering at him. They were darker than the usual, sending him straight back to the confusing and private dreams he'd had of the two of them lately.
Despite his throat clenching and the storm of emotions raging in his ribcage, he couldn't help but admire how soft and perfect the skin of her neck looked. Strands of her long hair were surrounding her face.
His eyes ran down her neck and momentarily fell on the curves of her breast; her chest was slowly heaving while he personally felt like he'd just run a marathon. In a flash, he looked up to catch her gaze again, hoping she hadn't noticed where his eyes had fallen for an instant.
Ginny moved her fingers and threaded them through his. His fingers melted around hers in a blink. Harry had never wanted to cling to anyone up until now, which was terrifying in his mind. Even at his worst moments when he was a child, no adult had ever been able to provide for him the kind of comfort and solace, that simple ease, that Ginny was emanating. She'd been able to unblock a part of himself he'd never let anyone see yet, as like she'd simply
There were some feelings towards Ginny he wasn't totally prepared to confront at the moment either. Nor was it the place, he reckoned.
That intense need of not wanting Ginny to let go of his hands provoked a torrent of fears pouring out from his heart right through his bones, freezing him into place. A fear he hadn't anticipated at all.
Needing someone was giving a considerable amount of control over yourself to that person and it scared the shit out of him. He wondered, not for the first time, just how Ginny had been able to cling to him in the Chamber after all she'd gone through that year, considering how her trust in someone had been shattered in a million pieces?
Was it like that when you'd trust someone with your life? When you realized how easier life was when they were by your side?
Because he did, he realized in a breath. He was certain of this. He trusted Ginny with his life.
"You're only human, whatever what people try to make you think. And we know this. We know you, the real you, from the brand of shampoo you like to use to your disdain of my dad's beets soup."
"Wait, I-" Harry began and tried to pull back his hands, but Ginny gave him a look like she'd read straight to him. She hadn't letting go, closing her fingers around even if he'd felt like he should have, as stupid as the reason was.
"No, you hate it, don't try," called out Ron at his right left side.
"We're here for you, and we'll get through this together, as a family." Giving him a small smile, she squeezed his hands and then let go. He watched her with a frown as she walked to the kitchen without returning her head, his tired gaze moving down to her arse for the tiniest second before turning his head to the fireplace.
"You okay? My sister's right, you're not alone," said Ron who slouched intp the seat next to him, his voice sounding graver than ever.
"Yeah."
Ron's serious eyes stared at him, unblinking, and Harry was aware he was trying to analyze him. A bit annoyed, Harry sighed, unable to explain his thoughts in words anyway.
Ginny had left him shaken, once again.
The commotion woke up everyone in the house. Ron, Dean, and Harry walked out of their bedroom — with Ron and Harry's wands in hand, to Dean's surprise— and met a worried Ginny at the top of the stairs. As Harry watched her mouth forming an adorable yawn, he noticed that she was dressed with a loose t-shirt of the Harpies and purple pajama pants.
"Hey," she said, rubbing one of her tired eyes.
"You okay?" asked Harry, moving closer to her to shield her body if needed and looking around with his wand lifted.
Ginny nodded, putting a hand on his to lower his wand. "It's nothing like that, Harry."
"So what's happening?" asked Ron, lowering his wand too as Dean moved past Harry and bent his head to kiss his girlfriend.
"Oh, no!" said Ginny, turning her head quickly to avoid Dean's lips. Harry's chest monster roared in jubilation.
"What?" asked Dean, frowning.
"Haven't you heard? Everyone's puking. Well, nearly everyone. I'm not taking the chance to kiss you right now, sorry."
"But your lips look so kissable, couldn't we-"
Harry fumed and bit back a snarky remark. Fortunately, Ginny didn't hold it back.
She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Oh, come on, Dean. You can wait. You're not a baby-"
"What?! Say it, you're just happy to have a reason for-"
"Enough, you two," snapped Ron. "Did the twins put something in the food again?"
Ginny shook her head. "Don't think so. Mum said Fred had been the first to vomit, followed closely by George, and then Fleur. Now, it's Bill's turn. He's in the bathroom downstairs."
"Blimey," said Ron and then sighed loudly. "We're fucked."
"Completely fucked," responded Ginny, going down the stairs.
"Ginny! Ron! Language!" said Mrs. Weasley, who was walking past the stairs with bowls. Remus was at the kitchen table, pouring a fuming yellow potion into porcelain mugs.
"Good morning, kids!" he said as Harry and the others walked in.
"Morning? It's 3 AM!"
Remus smirked. "Last I've heard, it's the morning." Ron rolled his eyes.
"Need a hand, Remus?" asked Harry.
"Gladly. Thank you, Harry. Could you bring those mugs to Fred, George, and Arthur? I'll start Fleur's."
Ginny crossed her arms around herself, rubbing her arms like she was cold. Harry fought the urge to give her his jumper before taking two mugs in his hands.
"So, Dad's sick too?" asked Ginny, frowning in worry.
"Sadly, yes. His face went white as he was bringing new bedsheets for George and he just had time to vomit in the sink."
"I better go see if Mum needs some help," said Ron, taking the third mug from the table and walking fast to the living room. He followed his friend and could see in the way his shoulders were tense that he was worried for his family. Harry was too.
"Mum? We have Dad's and Fred and George's anti nausea potions."
"Oh, thank you, sweethearts," said Mrs. Weasley, and Ron winced at the surname. Despite the urgency in the house, Harry's lips curved up for the tiniest second, thinking of Lavender's gift for Ron.
Mrs. Weasley was still dressed in her long flannel nightgown and her hair was messier than what Harry was accustomed to. "Just put them there," she continued, nodding at a small desk near the fireplace as she was putting a cold cloth on her husband's forehead who was lying on one of the couches. Fred and George were sitting on the other, holding a bowl under their heads with their eyes closed. Lifting her wand, she safely levitated the twins' potions to them. They mumbled something before taking the potion in their hands.
"How many would they need to get better?" asked Harry to Ron.
"Last time the family went through a stomach bug, we needed to drink two to stop vomiting everywhere. By the way, wash your hands often, that thing is bloody contagious."
Harry winced. "Fantastic."
"Mum?" called a panting Ginny, appearing in the living room, and followed by Dean. Harry's eyes went wide when he noticed that her pajamas were wet. Ginny glanced at her brothers on the couch and then at her father and sighed. "Remus ran to fetch some clean bedsheets and was not available so I came to you. I was helping Bill and he vomited on me. Could you help, please?" she asked, motioning to her trousers.
Molly groaned and cast a sanitizing spell. "I think it will do for now, but keep a bowl close to you." Ginny winced.
She turned her head to Dean and grimaced. "I'm so sorry, dear. If I'd known someone was sick, I wouldn't have invited you."
Dean shook his head. "Oh, don't worry, Mrs. Weasley. It's really not your fault. Do you need some help?" he asked, looking at the twins.
"That's really kind of you to offer it, but I'd rather you don't get sick too. It's really too early to let you go home alone, so I guess the reasonable thing to do is for you to stay in Ron's bedroom until later today. I'm really sorry."
Ginny looked at Dean and apologized quietly. "That's okay," said Dean, moving his hand to brush her cheek, but Ginny's cry stopped him.
"Don't touch me! I'm contaminated!" she said.
Harry wondered if she wasn't happy by the turn of events somehow, because —apart perhaps a couple of pecks and hugs— she hadn't seemed comfortable showing affection to Dean in front of anyone yesterday.
"The bed sheets are clean in Fred and George's bedroom, Molly."
"Remus! You're my savior. Thank you so much!"
Remus glanced at Arthur who was now asleep on the couch. "That's nothing. Have I heard right? Dean needs someone to accompany him back to his house?"
"Would you take him, Remus? I just really don't want him to catch it and the less you're here, the better for you too. At least, I'll know he's completely safe with you." Mrs. Weasley turned to Dean. "If I remember correctly, your mother told me she'd be home all day today." Dean nodded. " But If she's not home, take him back here, Remus."
"It'll be all right, Molly. Dean, could you go pack your bag?"
"Yes, Professor. I'll be quick."
"It'd be better that way. We'll keep our viruses in the family," said Mrs. Weasley.
As Harry watched Dean jump the stairs, he thought that maybe, just maybe, he was part of the family too.
Christmas 2002
When Harry had passed the door, he was welcomed by Victoire and Teddy, asking him to be faster and to come dance with them.
Harry chuckled. "I'll just say hi to everyone and I'll dance with you then, okay?"
After kissing everyone and shaking hands, Harry found Ginny sitting on the armchair near the fireplace, rocking James in her arms.
"Hi," he whispered, kneeling in front of her and taking one of her hands in his.
Ginny's eyes lit up. She was even more beautiful as each minute passed, Harry was sure of it.
"Hi, you," she said, leaning towards him for a small kiss.
Harry caressed James' hair, careful to not wake him up. "How was your day?"
"That was fine. James let me take a nap while Dad went on a walk around the house. You know how he is," she said, and Harry laughed, knowing how Arthur was gaga around his grandchildren. Not that Molly wasn't either, mind you.
"My turn!" said Hermione, arriving at their side. Harry put his finger on his lips. "Oh, is he asleep?" she asked in a murmur.
Ginny nodded, but lifted their baby from her anyway. "Yeah, but he's sleeping hard, I think. You arrived at the right time because I was boiling with him on me and the fireplace."
Hermione carefully took James in her arms, bringing his little head on her shoulder. She sent Harry a radiant smile.
"I'll allow it, but it's my turn after you."
"Shush. You always have him at home. Leave me my godson."
"And leave him to me after his godmother," said Ron. Harry smiled and turned to Ginny.
He looked at her with a smile and kissed her nose. "I'm gonna fill up a glass of water for me. Want one?" he said, removing his hand from hers but she grabbed it again.
"No, you stay right here, Harry Potter," she said, getting up. She brought his body to hers and circled her arms around his waist. "You just came back from work and I'm not letting you go."
He put his arms around her and kissed her forehead. "You smell so good."
She nuzzled his jumper and let out a peaceful sigh. "I missed you."
Wanting to see his baby, he went behind Ginny and took her hands in his as she leaned back against his chest. He squeezed her hands, caressing those fingers he loved so much and could recognize among all.
As he watched Ron dancing slowly with James on his shoulder, Harry remembered how Ginny had clung to his fingers at St-Mungo's, pushing like the warrior she was until the sudden first cry of their son brought tears to his eyes. He thought of their habit of thrending their fingers together as they made love, her body trembling against his skin as they chanted each other's name.
Brushing her wedding ring with his thumb, Harry placed his chin on Ginny's head and watched the kids dance as Charlie played the piano.
There was no doubt in his mind that he'd been wrong all along; it wasn't a place that made a home, but the person at your side who was ready to hold your hand through the obstacles of life.
Ginny was his home.