Chapter 1
Summer at the Burrow
Notes
This was originally published by myself on Archive of our own (Ao3) under the same title and author. I've edited this to meet FF's maturity guidelines, but you can head on over there to read the original version.
So now seems like a great time to rekindle the fires of a years long obsession... I like to think I'm armed with some improved sense of plot, pacing, characterisation... who knows or even dares to dream to imagine they can hope. Anyway, I appreciate any and all feedback. =)
Yes, it all begins where Rowling left off, minus the Epilogue and barring a few details changed here and there, of course. The plan is to deviate wildly in as believable a manner as possible. Isn't that always the plan? It'll all make sense, trust me.
def 'Reform':
To relinquish a criminal or self-destructive life and change for the better.
To amend an institution or practice in order to improve it.
To form something anew, from broken parts.
It was two weeks before the start of term and Harry Potter was warm, happy and probably the most relaxed he'd ever been in his whole life. He, Hermione and Ron were sprawled out in the garden, languidly zapping gnomes as they tried to sneak sandwich crusts from the long abandoned picnic basket beside them. The gnomes would shriek dreadfully as they flew several feet into the air. Their cries were the only noises that cut through the buzz of cicadas and the occasional muted sounds of activity from inside the house. It had been like this all summer. It had been heaven.
Ron was winning so far with a straight shot through the branches of the tree at the bottom of the garden. The tree was blackened from the fire that had burned down the old Burrow. It reached for the sun like a clawed hand. Molly had tried to pretty it up some with bunting and a bamboo windchime. This hadn't helped.
The grass around them was brown: August's heat wave had finally done in the British greenery. As a result, everyone at the Burrow had spent much of the last six weeks outside. Harry finally had a proper tan, even if it did only extend up to his shirt sleeves and where his shorts ended at the knee.
Ron, on the other hand, was - like all the Weasleys - a patchwork of ruddy pink and bright white stripes. He'd taken to wearing a straw hat and, after some pestering, putting a thick layer of Mildred's Sun Soothing Ointment on the bridge of his nose and cheeks, not caring a bit that George had called him a big mummy's boy for doing so. They were all just glad George was up for telling any kind of joke. Without Fred, he'd become uncharacteristically quiet. The whole family had. Loud, quiet, loud again. Normal. Very not normal. Sometimes all they did was laugh, all day. Sometimes... sometimes the Burrow felt barren and soulless and still, in a way it never had before. But, today wasn't one of those days, thank Godric.
"Look, it says here they've made more arrests in Wiltshire - do you think that's got anything to do with Malfoy? His manor is close to the area where they found them," Hermione said.
Harry sat up and looked at the paper she'd thrust under his nose. There was a picture of black robed figures moving about in the woods. He didn't recognise any faces.
"I can't believe the git's coming back to Hogwarts," muttered Ron, who was lying in the grass with his hat pulled down over his eyes.
They'd heard the news from Seamus, who'd heard it from a friend at the Ministry. Apparently, a whole bunch of Slytherins who had been pardoned were to return to Hogwarts, by mandatory decree, to complete their education.
Harry shrugged diplomatically. "You were at the trial. And you know what happened in the Tower wasn't really his fault. And he did try to save me that one time."
"Yeah but the Vanishing Cabinets were all on him. And the fire in the Room of Requirement-"
"-That was Crabbe actually," Harry interjected.
Ron thumped the ground. "I just think that even though he's meant to be reformed he probably still has connections with his old Death Eater buddies, right?"
"That's what I'm saying," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Just because he's got away with all the stuff he's done, doesn't mean he's a good guy now, does it? So maybe he's got something to do with these arrests. Maybe he was helping them, or they'd had a secret meeting or something. I really don't understand them letting him back in what with everything that's happened. I get that he doesn't deserve to be locked up in Azkaban-"
"Debatable," Harry said, the corner of his lip twitching as he and Ron shared a look.
"But he really shouldn't be back at school. There are children there, for goodness' sake. He's dangerous. He's definitely a criminal. I have a mind to write to Headmistress McGonagall about it."
She folded her arms, then sighed and flopped back onto the grass. "I'm preaching to the choir, aren't I?"
"Little bit," Ron chuckled.
Harry murmured in agreement. "'Sides. McGonagall's got to let him in anyway. And the rest. Ministry wanted them to have a 'chance to prove themselves under the guidance of the brave witches and wizards who fought against yada yada.'" He cringed. They had called him a 'Beacon for Justice' and an 'Example to Follow' in that same speech at the trials. He rather doubted the Slytherins would agree.
"Bloody hell, never mind Malfoy, I can't believe we're going back," said Ron. He rolled onto his front, crawled around Harry, who was cross-legged and frowning at the newspaper, and tucked himself in beside Hermione on the ground.
She nodded. "Yes. It's rather a peculiar feeling, isn't it? Like... Hogwarts is a whole other planet, now.
"Lift," she said. Ron held his head up and she removed the hat, running her hands through his fiery red hair. It had grown a lot over the last year and recently he'd cut the sides short, leaving the top long enough to tie back in a quirky little bun, though he had it loose now.
She grimaced. "Sweaty."
He grinned and rubbed his face into her neck.
Burying his own face further into an article about the property sales on Knockturn Alley (suddenly, shopkeepers had disappeared up and down the street just after Voldemort's death. Massive shocker.), Harry blushed as she squealed and batted Ron's arm. He still wasn't used to the fact that his best friends were dating. It was... nice, obviously. They'd been dancing around one another for years, but now that he'd been faced with a whole summer's worth of catching them snogging in corners, giving each other pining looks and a dramatic increase in all manner of affectionate gestures, he was feeling rather like a third wheel.
He chanced a glance only to get an eyeful of Ron planting a big wet kiss on Hermione's lips. He'd caught hold of her arm, his muscles taught, and had it pinned to her side. Even as she squirmed under him she wasn't really trying very hard to escape his impromptu attack.
"Err.. I'm going to see if I can help with the tea," Harry muttered. He uncrossed his legs, feeling heat prickle his neck and not just because of the afternoon sun.
As he entered the front door of the Burrow, everything was dark to his adjusting eyes and he didn't see the person coming towards him until it was too late.
"Ow!" Ginny said, ruefully, from the floor.
"Sorry!" Harry held out a hand and she let him pull her up. "I uhh, didn't see you there."
"Is my brother doing gross things with 'Mione again?" Ginny asked.
Harry rubbed his neck and nodded. He was pretty sure his face was the colour of a letterbox.
"Ew."
"Yeah."
There was an awkward pause. That was the other thing that had happened this summer. After the battle of Hogwarts he and Ginny had finally had a chance to sit, talk, sift through their feelings. They both had a lot of them. Neither of them were very good at using their words, though. The problem was, those feelings were all mixed up in pain. The losses, Fred, Remus, Tonks... fuck, even thinking about them or saying their names felt like trying to swallow a ball of gillyweed the size of a quaffle.
So, they'd spent a good few weeks having very wet snogging sessions were one or both of them would start crying at some point, and then they'd engage in a few barbed fights, followed by more snogging and crying and snogging.
Once they'd moved past that bit, though, Harry had to admit... he'd enjoyed their time together over June and even most of July. In fact, Ginny's enthusiasm was equal parts frightening and exhilarating. She was interested in his (scrawny, bony, scarred) body in a way that he didn't know girls could be interested in a guy's body, like, ever. He'd never thought of himself as... what was the right word? Desirable? Nope, too weird to even contemplate. But she'd informed him he was 'bloody hot' once and that compliment had him grinning ear to ear for at least a week. Even if she did call him an 'idiot' seconds later.
Ginny was... well, she was something else. More experienced than Harry, for sure. Her kisses were full of bites and nibbles that left his lips bruised. She'd trail embarrassing purple marks all down his chest, which he'd desperately try to hide from Ron whenever he was getting changed in their room. She'd held him and let him touch her anywhere he felt like, and he'd felt like touching every inch of her soft, freckled skin, and god she'd just open herself like a flower beneath his fingers, so needy and wanting him to go further, do more, touch her there...
He realised he was staring.
"Uh. Um. I was gonna see if Mrs Weasley needed a err... needed a hand with anything."
"Right. You know she hates it if you don't call her 'Molly'. But ah, no I was just coming out to let you know food's almost ready anyway and I've done the table so..."
"So, we need to interrupt whatever's happening out there," he said, sticking his thumb behind him.
She closed here eyes. "I'm almost certain walking into a room full of Death Eaters was less horrifying. OK, can you take my hand and lead me there or something? Better yet, you go get them yourself. You can't expect a sister to see her brother in flagrante delicto. It'd scar me for life."
"And what about me? Hermione's like a sister to me, too you know. And I've only just escaped."
"I'll tell Ron about that time we used his bed to-"
"Alright, alright!" Harry felt his ears practically catch fire. He spun on his heel and marched back outside. He waved his arms hoping to break up the pair rolling around in the grass before he got close enough to see anything he didn't want to see. They ignored him completely. He could see Hermione had shoved her hands up Ron's top so half his lower back was gleaming in the sun, practically reflective it was so white.
Maybe he should've just let Ginny tell Ron all about the incident with Ron's bed... they'd put down a towel, of course... that hardly counted as 'defiling his property', right? She had a wicked mouth on her though and rather than shy away from letting on what she and Harry had been up to, she had a habit of hinting to depths of rampant indecency that Harry knew were quite made up. Maybe it was just to see how far she could push it before one of her brothers punched him in the face. He had a thought that she wanted a little bit of pay back, even if their break up had been somewhat mutual... after he'd brought up the idea, initially.
As he walked up to his friends, he felt the stirring of that old familiar lion in his chest (or was it more appropriate to say the snake in his trousers?). His ears, still burning, tuned into the low roar he'd learned to recognise as his teenage brain yelling at him to 'get person, put in cave, ravish for hours, ugga ugh'. It wasn't to do with the pair of them - he hardly thought of Hermione in that way at all, and he was definitely not jealous of her being Ron's girlfriend - it was just that it had been at least a month since he and Ginny had last been, uhh, intimate. The sight of a heavy make-out session, which looked and sounded like it was being very much enjoyed by all involved, was enough to make Harry wish he'd made a different choice. Maybe they should have kept the sex bit of the relationship alive. Hmm bad idea, on second thoughts. Probably.
He coughed. Then again. Louder.
"Eek! Ron get off, you lout!" Hermione shoved at his best mate, who was - to Harry's horror - sucking on her earlobe. Ron groaned, but rolled off, surreptitiously snatching up his hat and putting it in his lap.
"Wotcher, Harry?" he said in an unintended imitation of Tonks that caused a cloud to pass over his eyes for a split second.
"Sorry Harry," said Hermione, blushing and sitting up. There was grass sticking up at all angles in her hair. She had a blob of Ron's sunscreen on her chin.
"S'alright." Harry looked pointedly at the ground. "Food's up."
"Brilliant!" Ron exclaimed.
The trio gathered their leftover picnic things and trooped inside. Molly was floating steaming casserole dishes through to the dining room and called out to them to all take their shoes off please and not to dump everything on the floor thank you.
By the time they'd washed their hands and Ron had helped Hermione pick the grass out her hair, the table was groaning with troughs of casserole and heaps of potatoes and mountains of steamed veg. It smelled like heaven. Harry's mouth watered.
"This looks awesome, Mrs- Molly," he said.
She smiled at him, a small smile. She only managed small smiles these days. "Thank you Harry dear. Get yourself in beside Percy will you? Start on the mash and pass it round."
The three of them crowded in beside Percy, who was on his own on one side of the table. Ginny, George and George's friend Lee Jordan, who was had taken a break from his radio show to stay at the Burrow for a month and make it his mission to keep George's spirits up, mostly with ear-related puns, sat on the other side. Mr and Mrs Weasley were on one corner, so Harry tool the spot next to Percy, Hermione sat beside him and Ron took the seat at the end.
Percy didn't say hello. Percy didn't say much these days, haunted as he was by witnessing Fred's death only a few months prior, and clearly racked with guilt over his time at the Ministry. He spent a lot of time apologising. The shadows under his eyes seemed permanent. Harry wished the Weasley siblings would hurry up and forgive him. It was becoming rather difficult to see the guy wander around like a kicked puppy in his own home. He figured it wasn't really his place to say, though. The least he could do was sit next to him at dinner and hope he recognised the show of solidarity.
"Ear of corn, my man?" said Lee, loudly.
"Shut up and give it 'ear," growled George, scratching the scar on the side of his head. Only Harry noticed he was pointing the tip of his wand, which was up his sleeve, at the bowl of sweetcorn.
"Yeouch!" Lee yelled as he touched the bowl that had suddenly become red hot.
"Careful, dear," Molly said absently.
He sucked his fingers, glaring daggers at George who, with another tiny swish of his wand, cooled the bowl and picked it up himself.
"What a pansy," he chuckled as he spooned sweetcorn onto his plate.
Harry was grateful to have Lee there. It had brought George back to life - just a little bit - to have his friend glued to his side. It reminded him of when it used to be the three of them, Fred, George and Lee, pulling pranks and getting into mischief back at Hogwarts. Now, that felt like a million years ago.
With Lee Jordan's commentary running near non-stop throughout the meal, only to be interrupted by a heated argument about Ron's favourite Quidditch team the Chudley Cannons' latest dire performance, they all tucked in and were soon leaning back with stomachs fit to burst.
"Diagon Alley tomorrow then, chaps?" Mr Weasley - no, Arthur, Harry reminded himself - said.
Hermione clapped her hands. "The letters have come in, then? They took ages this year!"
Arthur smiled - a small smile - and patted the front of his robes before he pulled out a wad of envelopes. He handed them round.
"That they have! I hear they spent much of the summer trying to figure this whole extra year out with class schedules and dorms so on. Funny the business of an eighth year, wonder if you'll be sharing classes with the seventh years or what? Ginny - how'd you feel, if Ronald were in your class, eh?"
Ron choked on a spoonful of pudding. "I am not going to be in a class with my baby sister," he grumbled. "S'not happ'nin'."
Ginny shot him a glare. "I bet I'd beat you at every subject," she said, haughtily.
Hermione squealed. The paper shook in her hands. "Ron, Harry open yours!" And before they could, she carried on in a rush, "they've given me an 'Outstanding' in Defence Against the Dark Arts!"
They tore at their envelopes.
"What? Me too!" whooped Ron, getting up and dancing round the table, punching the air.
Harry looked at his letter and yes, he also had an 'O' for the Defence Against the Dark Arts N.E.W.T at the top of the page. He launched out of his seat, beamed at his friends and bundled them both in a hug. It was stupid to care about grades, but it was so fucking ordinary and for some reason it left all three of them bouncing around like idiots.
Molly laughed and shot small sparks out of her wand, waving it in the air, which shocked George.
"Fireworks in the house, mother?"
She merely patted his arm. "They deserve it."
In a properly celebratory mood, now, Harry picked up his letter and read the rest.
"And we've got the chance to choose our N.E.W.T.s again, due to 'interrupted studies and unprecedented circumstances'," Hermione said, doing the same. "They're doing separate classes - sorry, Gin - and special exams for us to accommodate that we've has so much disruption last year. So we'll be doing one year N.E.W.T.s..." Her face fell. "Do you think that won't count the same as the regular two year qualifications?"
"I think they've thought of that, 'cause look, we've only got to do four classes so I bet they'll have us doing extra to make up the difference for each one. And we'll still come away with five N.E.W.T.s with the one we've all got already. Maybe they gave everyone a free grade this year..."
"Oh Harry, do you think that means they'll let me take another class, then? Two more was a bit much before, but I was so hoping to do the Study of Ancient Runes and Divination and I didn't want to have to choose."
Ron snorted. "Divination? Why? What's the point?"
She rounded on him, voice dripping with sarcasm.
"May I remind you that Harry's entire life has been defined by a prophecy? One that determined the outcome of the battle of Hogwarts and shaped everything that's happened before and since? Just a little something that Trelawney made up, you know, you may have heard it: 'Neither shall live while the other survives' and so on.
"I've decided it's an area of magic worth some attention, even if I do think some of it's hogwash."
Harry's entire life has been defined by a prophecy.
Harry stood up. Not looking her in the eye, but with his fingernails cutting semi-circles in the palm of his hand, he announced he was going to bed. He left before anyone could protest.
Behind him he heard Ron say, "Aw shucks, 'Mione. I think you've put your foot in it with that one..."
