Hello! I know you all probably just expect ridiculously long waits from me now between updates, and I am sorry I have let that become a habit. I wanted to have this chapter up ages ago, but between the busyness of finishing up my degree and a serious case of writer's block, I had a hard time getting around to it. However, I am graduating this week (Whoop whoop!) and have finally rediscovered my muse for this story, so I am excited to get it finished up for you.
The plot of this fic ended up being more complex than I originally planned for, so in an effort to tie up remaining loose ends, I am thinking about posting one last chapter, more of an epilogue really, to follow up with the characters after this ordeal. Would that be something you all would be interested in? I understand if you all are sick of waiting on me to write, but I'd like to give a quality ending if I can help it. It would be soon. This week or next, depending on how busy at-home finals end up being. Let me know your thoughts!
I sincerely hope you enjoy this long-awaited chapter and I hope I did it justice for all you long-suffering readers. Thanks for being awesome and putting up with me.
The Weasely family – nearly in its entirety – sat within a fourth floor waiting room in Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. The room was empty save for them, which was good since, while it was large, it barely accommodated the many members of the group. Ginny, still clad in her Harpies robes, paced back and forth before a row of the uncomfortable chairs waiting for word that Harry had arrived in one piece.
She and Hermione had Apparated over from Hollyhead over an hour ago now and in the time since, the members of her family had followed one by one as word had gotten around that Harry was coming home. Hermione had merely had to owl Ginny's mother. In true Molly Weasley fashion, she had done the rest. Harry, along with Ron and the Minister, still had not yet arrived and Ginny almost wished she hadn't learned about the situation until after he was already there – at least then she could have had the distraction of the Quidditch match to occupy her. Now, with the prospect of seeing Harry again – alive and hopefully at least relatively well – so soon, the wait was killing her.
"Ginny," Hermione said, speaking up from her place seated toward the end of the row of chairs the red-haired witch currently paced before, "Come sit down. You'll drive yourself mad pacing like that."
"I'll drive myself mad if I sit and do nothing," Ginny countered, but threw herself down in the empty seat beside her mother nonetheless. Molly, who had until then been wringing her hands anxiously in her lap, placed a comforting hand on her daughter's leg. "I don't understand why it's taking so long," Ginny muttered.
"They probably need to make sure he's stable enough for the trip," Percy put in matter-of-factly across from her, "International travel is hard on a healthy wizard, never mind one who's been held captive by Death Eaters and tortured for over a week." The word tortured elicited winces from several of the witches and wizards present. Ginny's mother jerked a bit in her seat at his words. Ginny glared at her brother. Percy, while he meant well, still often lacked tact of any sort.
Several minutes later, Ginny was pacing again, unable to sit still, when Ron appeared, looking haggard. As one, the gathered witches and wizards looked up. Ginny was already approaching. "What are you doing here? Where's Harry?"
"The Healers kicked me out so they could look at him. They wouldn't let me stay – I tried." He held her gaze for a moment and maybe he saw something in them that he wasn't meant to because he added, "He's alive, Ginny. He's going to be okay."
Something about his words, the fact that they came from him, Ron, who had gone, who had found him and been with him, had her setting aside the part of her that wanted to fight the healers to see her husband right then and there and suddenly, inexplicably, nearly wanting to cry. Before her brain had processed the action, she threw herself at her brother and flung her arms around him. "Thank you."
Ron held her tightly. "He's my brother, Ginny," he replied in a tone that implied she did not need to thank him, that it hadn't just been for her, and she wondered in some small corner of her mind what demons her brother had faced himself this week with odds as poor as they had been that he would find Harry alive – or at all.
He let her go a moment later and Ginny looked between Ron and the door he had stepped through for a second before moving to head that way. "I'm going back there."
Ron grabbed her arm, not forcefully. "Ginny, no," he said and gently turned her back toward him, "Let the Healers do what they need to do. He's in the best hands possible. Kingsley made sure of it – I made sure of it."
Ginny studied him for several seconds before sighing. "Fine," she said. Turning for her abandoned chair. They had fifteen minutes. After that, she was walking through that door and she was seeing Harry, Healers and rules be damned.
It was almost exactly fifteen minutes later when a brunette Mediwitch probably not much older than Ginny stepped out and came up slightly short at the large crowd gathered, approximately half of which shot to their feet at her arrival. Ginny felt her mother's supportive hand on her back.
The Mediwitch recovered quickly and addressed Ginny as she spoke. There was no need to identify themselves as Harry's family. Even if they weren't all as well-known as they were, the girl would be hard-pressed to find another red-haired family the size of the Weasleys'. "Your husband's condition is critical, but stable," she said. "Mr. Potter sustained some serious injuries and we will have to keep a close eye on him over the next several hours. But he seems to be doing well for the time being."
"Oh, Thank Merlin," Ginny heard her mother whisper from beside her.
Ginny took a step forward. "Please, can I see him? I'm his wife."
The Mediwitch nodded. "Of course. But, I can't allow more than two of you into his room at a time. Mr. Potter needs to rest, and frankly, our hospital rooms really aren't very big."
"You should go, Mum," Ron said to Ginny's left.
Ginny turned toward them and found her mother shaking her head. "I think Hermione should go first."
Hermione, standing beside Ron, looked up in surprise. "Me? Oh, no, Molly. You should go. It's alright –"
"You go on, dear," Molly interrupted her gently, "Harry's your best friend and you've been worried sick. I'll be just fine waiting a bit knowing he's alive."
Hermione still looked uncertain, but she couldn't fully hide the clear desire in her eyes so see her friend and brother for herself. Ginny watched the scene play out, fighting back impatience. After a moment, Hermione nodded and stepped forward. "I'll be quick," she promised her mother-in-law, who waved her away, and moved toward Ginny.
The two followed the Mediwitch through the double doors and into a hallway lined on either side by hospital rooms and closed doors. The walls were painted a dull light green, which contrasted starkly with the sparkling white floors. St. Mungo's as a whole seemed to lack much of the explosion of color that generally vividly defined the rest of the Wizarding world. Ginny didn't know if that was a good or bad thing. With each step she took, she grew increasingly nervous – not at the thought of finally seeing her husband again, but at the uncertainty of the exact state she would be seeing him in.
She'd seen him hospitalized, even unconscious and hospitalized, numerous times before now, but she admittedly found it difficult to wrap her head around the idea that he'd been tortured very nearly to death. She didn't want to accept it.
Harry had always seemed so strong to Ginny. Prior to the past week, she had never quite been able to reconcile herself with the idea that he could ever really die, that the world could keep going without him, even with Voldemort's best efforts just a few years prior. To Ginny, Harry Potter had always been a bit larger than life, and while a few years of marriage had done well to cut her expectations of him down to a much more appropriate size, the idea of life without him was quite difficult to fathom.
The Mediwitch stopped before a closed door about halfway down the brightly lit hall. "He's just in here," she announced, "He may sleep for a while with all the pain potions he was given." Ginny and Hermione nodded in unison. The Mediwitch offered a small, kind smile. "I'll give you some privacy," she said and with a final nod, she walked away.
Ginny turned from her to the door and took a deep breath. She started forward but glanced behind her, slightly impatient, when Hermione did not immediately follow her. "You go on," her sister-in-law said, "I'll be right behind you." Ginny recognized the gift of privacy for what it was and nodded her thanks before turning back toward the closed door. She took a deep breath and reached for the handle.
The hospital room was plain and private. Beige walls and the same white floors were broken up only by a set of royal blue curtains across a lone window with a hard-looking sofa in front of it. A hospital bed occupied the center of the room. Harry lay within it. He looked awful– his skin pale and nearly translucent, decorated with a mosaic of healing bruises not quite removed by the healing magic he'd received. A bandage covered an injury on his forehead and the corner of another was just visible over the neck of the hospital robes he wore.
Ginny approached slowly, her heart in her throat and stopped beside Harry. He was unconscious. For a moment she simply watched his chest rise and fall, trying to steady herself. Had it really only been eight days since she'd gotten the news? It felt like an eternity. And now she was here and Harry was here. He was battered, but he was alive and he was going to be okay. He had to be. She wasn't letting him go again. They had so much more life to live together.
She reached forward and grabbed his hand – and was startled when she looked up again to find familiar green eyes on her, tired but focused – though squinting – as they watched her. "Hi," Ginny breathed, relief like she hadn't felt in years suddenly welling up out of nowhere and threatening to swallow her.
Harry squeezed her hand – weakly, very weakly – and swallowed. It looked painful. She didn't want to think about the faded bruises on his neck and what had caused them. "Gin," he whispered hoarsely.
"Shh. You don't have to talk," Ginny said gently, "I'm right here."
Harry shook his head defiantly. "I'm sorry," he croaked.
Ginny let out a harsh breath, somewhere between a laugh and a sob as she was suddenly fighting tears. Typical Harry, apologizing for being abducted and tortured. Merlin, what would she have done if he really had died, if she never saw him again?
"I'm… really glad you're not dead," she managed around a lump in her throat.
"Me too," he whispered. "I'm sor–"
"Don't apologize," Ginny interrupted, gently squeezing his hand for emphasis. "You…" She took a deep breath and moved ever closer to him, "Kingsley told me," she said softly, her eyes not leaving his, "about the recruit you took that Stunning spell for, how you saved him and let them take you." She swallowed. "And I know that you'd do it again, because you're such a noble, self-sacrificing git." The corner of Harry's mouth twitched and maybe he would have smirked, except that it probably would have hurt his brutalized face a good deal to do so. Ginny went on, gripping his hand like a lifeline through the torrent of relief and emotion still threatening to overwhelm her. "You would never even think to do anything less. It's one of the many reasons I married you. And you have nothing – nothing – to be sorry for."
She wasn't sure what she'd planned to say to him when – if – she finally saw him again. It wasn't that. She didn't know where the words came from, only that she'd meant every word. Because even after the week of sleepless nights and waiting and torturing herself, she was so, so proud – she always had been – of the wizard lying before her. Of the hero he was.
Harry was quiet for a few seconds, studying her – as well as he could anyway without his glasses. Ginny assumed since they weren't anywhere obvious in the room, he would likely be needing another pair. She made a mental note to bring his spare ones from home until he could get fitted for new ones.
Eventually, his eyes wandered from her face to her clothes, to the green and gold Quidditch robes she had not bothered to change out of after leaving the match so abruptly earlier. "Did the Harpies have a match today?" he inquired quietly, like it bothered at him to not have known. Harry was always very good about keeping track of her Quidditch schedule, even when he was not able to attend the matches in person.
Ginny nodded, but amended her answer when she was unsure if he could make out the gesture without his glasses. With as long as they'd been married now, she was well aware of just how close to blind her husband truly was. "Yeah, we did."
"How'd it go?"
She smirked. "I dunno. It's probably still going on."
"You missed a Quidditch match?"
"When Hermione came and told me you were on your way to St. Mungo's? Of course I did."
"Was Gwenog upset?"
Ginny smiled wider. "Who do you think called me off the pitch to begin with?" Her smile vanished as she continued. "Honestly, I don't think she was all that keen on letting me play tonight anyway. I had to nearly beg her not to bench me from the start. She thought, with all of this…" she gestured vaguely with her hand, "She worried about my performance, I suppose."
Harry stared at her for a moment, a flash of guilt momentarily crossing his features, and then slowly, clearly trying not to wince, he lifted his arm, opening himself to her. "Come here." Ginny carefully, hesitantly, stepped into his arm and settled herself beside him - though she was careful to keep the majority of her weight off him - and laid her head on his shoulder, mindful of the bandage beneath his robes. "I love you so much, Gin," Harry murmured in her ear, his voice the strongest she'd heard it since she'd first set foot in his hospital room.
"I love you too," she replied, her voice little more than a whisper, "And I want it all, Harry." She craned her neck to look at him, careful not to jostle them, "Everything we've been putting off doing because we were too young or too busy." She shook her head. "I just… I spent the past eight days thinking you might not come home and thinking about all the things we wouldn't get to do and I just kept wondering, what if things were different? What if we hadn't waited? What if we were just a little irresponsible? And I don't want to wait anymore. After everything that's happened, even before this…" She shook her head. "I want all of it. I want to give you a family, to give Teddy a family. And I want to do it with you."
Harry was silent for a stunned second. And then he was smiling. Widely. It clearly wasn't comfortable for him but he did it anyway, and held her through the pain. "I thought you'd never ask," he breathed.
"Is that a yes?"
"Yes. Merlin, yes. I love you so much, Ginny."
And then she was kissing him. Gently, mindful of the still-healing injuries, but she poured every ounce of love she could into it anyway and felt the weight she'd carried with her these past eight days lift at last. "I missed you," she murmured when she pulled away. Not long enough. The kiss hadn't been nearly long enough, but it was a bit soon for Harry to be exerting himself beyond what they'd already done.
"I missed you too," he answered her, his thumb rubbing back and forth against the hand he still held.
Ginny stayed there for another minute, half-reclined in the bed with him, before she carefully extricated herself from him and turned for the door. "Where are you going?" Harry asked. Whether he was disappointed, or worried, or simply exhausted from his ordeal of the past several days, she wasn't sure.
"To let Hermione in," she answered simply, pausing halfway and facing him once more. "She waited in the hall to give me a few minutes alone with you."
"They're all here aren't they, waiting out there?" He didn't need to clarify for her to know what he meant.
"Of course they are." She smirked, "And chances are fairly good that they aren't leaving until they all get to see you too."
A smile, drowsy but contented, crossed Harry's bruised face. "I'd expect nothing less from our family.
Two days later, Ron was sat in the uncomfortable chair before the sizeable desk of Gawain Robards, trying and mostly succeeding in refraining from letting his intimidation show. The older wizard sat behind the desk, arms crossed over his considerable chest, utterly silent, as he had been for the past minute, staring at Ron. Whether he was thinking or waiting or simply reigning in his just as considerable temper before beginning what was sure to be an unpleasant conversation, Ron wasn't sure. It was not unlike the interrogation technique he had employed himself during his time, not all that long ago, as an Auror himself. Say nothing, maintain eye contact, let the suspect be the first to speak – and hopefully incriminate himself before Ron had to do any work at all.
He tried not to look overly anxious for the stony silence to break.
He'd received news of his summons during dinner the evening before – he was to report to the office of the Head of the Auror Department at 0900 the following morning. That was all the letter the Ministry owl carried had said. Ron had tried not to view it too much like a death knell to the wonderful life he and Hermione had managed to build for themselves, but he couldn't deny that he'd held his wife tighter than normal that morning in the Ministry Atrium before they'd gone their separate ways.
He would not apologize for his actions. Not when the alternative would have had him still out there in the middle of Nowhere, Belarus following the circles the Aurors led him in. And Harry… well, Ron did not particularly want to imagine what sort of shape Harry would have been in had he not taken the actions he did.
So he would not apologize, because he regretted nothing. And he would not dishonor his brother by insinuating otherwise.
Ron could feel himself beginning to crack under the heavy silence when Mr. Robards spoke at last. "You realize I could send you to prison for the rest of your life as a consequence for your actions and I would be perfectly entitled to do so, don't you?" His voice was deathly calm, even. He gave nothing away.
Ron's heart took up an uneven gallop in his chest, but his tone was even when he answered, "Yes, sir."
"And you realize your actions could have resulted not only in your own death, but those of others as well?"
This time, Ron – wisely – said nothing.
Another beat of silence passed before the Head Auror spoke again with a sigh. "I've got to admit, Weasley, that you've put me in a bad spot here."
"Sorry, sir."
"You know, you'd better be, Weasley, because now I have to figure out what I am going to do with you, despite my own opinions on the matter, your personal ties to the Minister for Magic, and the fact that your actions did directly lead to the rescue and safe return of one of the best Aurors the Ministry's got." Ron blinked. Robards sighed again. "Tell me, what do you have to say for yourself?" he asked, his tone slightly less biting.
Ron allowed himself a beat of silence to gather his thoughts. And then he opened his mouth and immediately wondered if he should have just stayed silent. "Honestly, Mr. Robards, I could say the words I'm expected to in my position, that I am sorry for going against the terms we agreed on and for endangering myself, that I wish I'd gone about things differently or would change it if I could. But I won't do that, sir." The older wizards eyebrows shot up at that. Ron continued, certain he was only digging himself a deeper grave, but unable at this point to stop himself. "I won't say those things because they are a lie. The truth is that I don't regret any of my actions over there, that if I had to do it all over again, the only thing I would change is how long I waited and allowed myself to be given the runaround in the first place while my best friend was beaten half to death and your men dragged their feet." He paused long enough to take a breath, and then continued on. "I promised my baby sister that I would bring Harry home. And I couldn't just sit around and wait for the Death Eaters to decide to give him back. He means too much to too many of us and, no offence to you, Mr. Robards, but this wasn't the first time he's been let down by the Ministry. I was raised to do the right thing, no matter the consequences. I didn't feel waiting was the right call and I couldn't ignore that. I couldn't do that to Ginny, to Hermione… or, frankly, to myself, sir."
Robards was silent, staring at him. Ron finished his declaration simply, his voice quiet. "I'll accept whatever punishment you deem appropriate. But that's all I have to say."
Another beat of silence passed before the Head Auror sighed through his nose and broke eye contact at last. He glanced upward, as if hoping to find some semblance of sanity on the ceiling. He sighed again and looked back at Ron. "You're lucky you already quit the Aurors," he said quietly, but not gently. "Because if you hadn't, you'd have been fired so fast, you wouldn't have known what happened." A pause. "But I suppose what's done is done."
Ron only waited, saying nothing. His heart hammered in his chest.
"Here's what's going to happen, Weasley," Robards said at least, leaning back a bit in his chair as he studied Ron. "As you already know, there seems to be a leak in my department. I need to find it. And until I can narrow down who it might be that's feeding our secrets to Death Eaters, I can trust very few with the matter." Ron blinked at the unexpected change of topic. "As you might have heard," Robards continued, "My top Auror, to whom I would usually look to handle this sort of situation, has recently suffered a bit of an ordeal and will be out of work for a few weeks to get back on his feet. So here's my offer. As someone who has experienced the effects of this mole firsthand, you will work with me to find them. You will come back to work at the Ministry on a temporary, liaison basis, using the extensive skill set I know you still possess and which I trained you to have, to help me determine the source of the leak and seal it off. You will show up here every day, you will accept an extraordinarily lower wage than you used to for your services, and you will not tell anyone what your work entails while the investigation remains open. In return, you will have almost unlimited access to the Auror Department and its employees as you follow up on recent cases and any possible links to the identity of this witch or wizard who will very soon live to regret their unfortunate decisions; and you will not be prosecuted for your intentional and complete insubordination over the past week.
"At the end of your service, you will be free to return to whatever it was you've been doing prior to this week, which apparently appeals to you more than a life of service and honor in the Auror Department. No questions asked. No strings. No lingering consequences or commitments. Do you accept those terms?"
Ron blinked, and blinked again, trying – and, he was sure, failing fairly spectacularly – not to mimic a fish with his gaping as he stared at his former boss and tried to make the words he'd just heard process in his brain. It wasn't working all that well.
"Well?" Robards snapped, impatient as Ron failed to gather his wits. "Do we have a deal, or should I find some other, far less appealing way for you to atone for your crimes?"
"Yes!" Ron managed, "Yes, sir, we have a deal! Thank you. Thank you, sir. I won't let you down, you'll see. We'll catch 'em. We'll – "
"Weasley."
"… Yes, sir?"
"Shut up and get out of my office. I'll see you Monday morning. 0730. Don't be late."
"Yes, sir." Ron was helpless to keep the edges of his lips from pulling up as he stood to take his leave. "See you then."
Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the reunion scene. Obviously it could only be so exciting with Harry confined to bed and battered as he currently is - another reason why I want to add an epilogue to give it all more closure.
Please do let me know your thoughts on the chapter, as well as whether you want an epilogue chapter to see this story through to a more concrete conclusion. I promise any future updates will be added in a reasonable time frame.
And a quick note to those waiting on updates to my PJO story, I promise updates will be coming soon. Hang tight!