A/N: It's still May 2nd in my world, so in these last few hours, here is my offering as we commemorate this day. It's also my first time writing Harry's perspective, so I hope I managed to do it well. This is part one, and part two will be up tomorrow. Enjoy!
It was the second day of May, 1998, also known as the day of the Battle of Hogwarts. The day Voldemort was defeated. The last day before an era of peace.
Of course, things weren't entirely peaceful yet, and they wouldn't be for some time. Not every single Death Eater and Voldemort sympathizer was accounted for. The government was nearly nonexistent. There would be months and years worth of rebuilding. Not just physically, but emotionally. Spiritually, even.
Some would heal completely. Most wouldn't.
Yet there was still a calm and a peace to the world that had been missing before. Just the knowledge that the next fight, the next heartbreak, the next terrifying moment wasn't just around the corner had Harry breathing easier. He knew things weren't going to be perfect forever and not even for long, but he'd truly had no idea just how heavy the weight he'd been carrying his whole life was until it was no longer there.
In an instant, it had been gone, his life purpose completed. Yet his life continued on. He'd never thought this far. Never given a moment to really consider what would happen if he survived. What he'd do. What he wanted. What his life would look like.
Even with the heavy weight of Voldemort and their entwined destinies lifted, Harry still felt a responsibility to the world he'd saved.
It was difficult to even think those words. It felt wrong. In reality, it had been far more than just him that had put an end to Voldemort's reign of terror.
None of it could've ever happened were it not for the people he'd met over the last seven years. The Order, Dumbledore's Army, the Weasleys. And especially Ron and Hermione. He owed them more than anyone. The world owed them more than they'd probably ever realize. But he'd make sure it wasn't his fault they didn't know. He'd make it a point to clarify who was responsible for their victory at every instance of congratulations. The world might be looking for one perfect hero to look up to, but that wasn't the truth.
Neville was a hero for rallying and leading the students of Hogwarts and killing Voldemort's snake. Hermione was a hero for getting him out of more scrapes than he could count and destroying Hufflepuff's cup. Ron was a hero for being sacrificial and loyal and saving Harry's life before destroying the locket. Dumbledore was a hero for figuring out how to bring down Voldemort in the first place and for giving Harry the tools he needed to make it happen, even if it hadn't been in the way Harry had expected.
Nymphadora Tonks was a hero for refusing not to fight for a better world for her son.
Remus Lupin was a hero for defying what the world expected him to be and sacrificing everything for his wife and child.
Fred Weasley was a hero for knowing the risks and laughing in the faces of those who would seek to destroy all that was good.
The world would know them. Harry would make sure of it.
After returning the Elder wand to Dumbledore's final resting place, he'd joined Ron and Hermione in Gryffindor tower. Kreacher had been more than happy to provide them with a plate full of sandwiches and bottles of cool pumpkin juice, and then Harry had slept better than he ever had in his entire life, his stomach full and the familiar ache in his head no longer present.
He now lay awake in bed contemplating all of these things in his first moment of peace, thinking he must have slept a solid twelve hours, the sun setting and casting the decimated Hogwarts grounds in shadow.
After a long shower and a smile at the clean clothes that Hermione had to have left at the foot of his bed, he joined everyone down in the Great Hall, intending to do what he could to assist as work began to repair the castle.
But he'd barely made an appearance before both McGonagall and Kingsley cornered Harry to assure him that everything was under control and that he was to head to the Burrow until he heard from Kingsley, who was taking on the position of interim Minister until a formal election could be held.
"Are you sure I can't-" Harry protested, but McGonagall gave a familiar stern look that still had the power to silence him.
"I've spoken with Molly and Arthur, and while any major threats have obviously been handled, we all believe it would be best for you to keep as low a profile as possible," said Kingsley. "We haven't tracked down all the Death Eaters yet, and the press are going to be after you too. The Burrow is still thoroughly protected. You'll be safe there and most importantly, have time to rest and build your strength back up."
Harry felt like protesting again, but McGonagall's voice was softer than he'd remembered it ever being before when she said, "You've more than earned a chance to rest, Potter. Let yourself be taken care of for a change."
It felt like such a foreign concept that he wondered if he had ever truly let anyone do that before. Even when Molly had done his laundry and Hermione had made him tea or Ginny had…
He relented, nodding and thanking them before going in search of his best friends. They hadn't been in the dormitory when he'd woken up, and he wasn't sure if they'd even gone to bed. He quickly spotted Ron talking to Bill up by the head table and made his way over.
"We're heading back to the Burrow in a few minutes," said Bill as Harry reached them. "Percy and Charlie popped over there a few hours ago and made sure there wasn't any type of security breach and we're all set."
Harry nodded, glancing at Ron as he hesitated to voice his next question. His best friend didn't look nearly as well rested as Harry felt. He'd gotten himself cleaned up at least, but his eyes were red and he was even paler than normal. Bill didn't look much better.
"What's being done about…"
Harry couldn't bring himself to ask, his throat constricting with grief.
"Pomfrey and Flitwick have been handling all that," said Ron, his voice hollow as he understood Harry's unfinished question. "People have been coming by all morning to...collect their loved ones. Mum and Dad haven't really decided what to do yet. I don't think they feel like they can without knowing what George wants. And he's…"
Ron trailed off and glanced over towards his brother. Harry's eyes widened in surprise to see George sitting at the Gryffindor table, a small crowd of people around him as he talked animatedly.
"What...what's he doing?" Harry asked uncertainly.
"He's in denial, I think," said Bill. "They…they took Fred away and then he disappeared for a bit, but when he came back, he was acting like nothing had happened. We're not entirely sure what to do other than wait it out."
Harry nodded. "Right, well. How're we getting to the Burrow?"
"Floo in the teacher's lounge," said Ron. "We can head over there now. Ginny went to find Mum and Dad."
Ginny.
"Right," said Harry, doing his best to act like the mere mention of her name and the idea of soon being in her presence didn't have an overwhelming effect on him. "What about Hermione?"
He wasn't that surprised to see a little bit of color return to Ron's face at the mention of their mutual best friend. Or Ron's girlfriend. Whatever she was now. "She's with Fleur. They went on ahead to the Burrow once we got the all clear from Charlie and Percy. I think they're getting things set up for everyone to be able to have a place to sleep."
"None of us feel like being anywhere else right now," said Bill. Harry nodded. Even if Kingsley and McGonagall hadn't insisted on it, the Burrow would've been the only place Harry wanted to be. Especially knowing that the people he loved most in the world were going to be there too.
As they made their way out of the Great Hall, stopping first to drag George along with them, Harry's eyes kept sweeping his surroundings. He gave smiles and waves in recognition of those who hollered out thanks and well wishes, but none of them were the one person he was looking for.
The teacher's lounge was empty when they reached it, but Bill assured him they didn't need to wait for Ginny and his parents, And then they were all Flooing to the Burrow, with George doing so very reluctantly.
The familiar smells and sounds of his best friend's home brought another level of peace to Harry as he stepped out of the grate. He drank in the familiar sights and breathed deeply, noting the sound of people moving above them in the creaky house.
And then the moment of peace was shattered by George's wail of agony.
Harry turned in time to see George collapse on the ground, his arms wrapped around his head and his knees pulled up to his chest as he lay on his side and shook with sobs. Bill and Ron stood above him with misery and helplessness etched on their faces. Ron had just knelt down and placed a tentative hand on his brother's shoulder when someone came barrelling down the stairs.
Percy entered the room with a fearful look in his eyes, no doubt terrified that someone was hurt. But then his eyes landed on George and he was across the room in an instant, kneeling down next to his brother. Percy immediately wrapped his arm around George and rested his forehead against his temple, whispering something in his ear. Harry couldn't make out the words and didn't feel like he really wanted to. He felt like he was invading on what should be a private moment already. But even as George's sobs continued, he reached out a hand to grip Percy, who continued to hold his brother tightly as they cried together.
"Come on," Ron said softly, now standing at Harry's side. "Let's go upstairs."
It was a testament to how grieved and exhausted Ron was that he didn't waste a moment before collapsing on his bed when they reached his room. Harry sat on the familiar camp bed as Ron rolled over onto his side, his back to the room as he breathed deeply.
Harry had no clue what to say. There were too many things he wanted to say. Did they even need to be said? Did they need to be said yet?
With a sigh, Harry lay down as well, shoving his glasses up to his forward and rubbing at his tired eyes. He'd only been awake for an hour and already felt like sleeping for another day again. Maybe Kingsley and McGonagall had been right to insist he rest.
He listened to the familiar sounds of people wandering around the Burrow, settling down for the night and checking in on each other. No one came to their door. No matter how much Harry wished someone would. Someone very specific.
Eventually, the house fell silent, the only sound the continued sniffing and labored breathing from the bed next to his. Harry rolled onto his side and sat up, a feeling of restlessness gripping him as well as a need to talk to his best friend. No matter how painful it might be for either of them.
"Mate?" Harry asked softly, still not sure exactly what he should say.
"Yeah?" said Ron, his voice a little choked as he sniffed, clear signs that he'd spent the last - Harry checked his watch - hour in tears. He supposed he should start with the simplest thing first.
"I'm so sor-"
"Don't," said Ron, his voice heavy but resigned as he rolled onto his back. His blue eyes were glassy as they stared up at the ceiling. "Don't you dare fucking apologize. We all knew what we were doing, and you're not gonna sit there and insult the sacrifice my brother made by claiming it was your fault."
Harry gulped and nodded, his own eyes filling with tears. He knew Ron was right. He wouldn't belittle what Fred or Lupin or Tonks or anyone else had done by claiming they shouldn't have had to. If he insisted on sharing the responsibility for their victory, he couldn't shoulder all the blame for their losses either.
It might take a while for him to fully accept and believe that, but he was going to try pretty damn hard to get there.
"You're right," said Harry. "But I'm still sorry you're hurting, all right? I know what it's like to lose someone, but I've got no clue how it feels to lose a brother." He paused and watched as a tear escaped Ron's eye and trickled down his cheek, and pain gripped at his heart. "But I can imagine I'd feel just about how you do now if...if I ever lost you."
Ron's head rolled to the side to meet his eyes, and Harry wiped his own traitorous tears away.
"Yeah," said Ron hoarsely. "And I don't even have to imagine what it would feel like if I lost you."
Harry had to look away from the pain in Ron's eyes. Everything had happened so fast that he'd almost forgotten that everyone had believed him dead only that morning. And he was supposed to be. He'd meant to die. And he sure as hell wasn't about to waste the life he never should have had.
He rubbed at his eyes and let out a shaky sigh before looking back at Ron, who was now sitting up in his bed. Harry was standing and moving to sit next to his best friend a moment later, tears continuing to trail down both of their cheeks as his arm went around Ron's shoulders. Harry gripped him tightly, and then Ron was shaking with sobs as he buried his head in his hands.
"You were fucking dead, Harry," he choked out. "I know you explained everything to us before, but I think it's just starting to hit me."
Harry let out a shaky sigh, exhaustion surprisingly overtaking him once again as he leaned his head against Ron's. "I know. I think things'll be hitting all of us for a while."
Ron gave an amused snort, wiping at his eyes. "I don't doubt we'll all be a little messed up for the rest of our lives."
A companionable silence settled between the two best friends as they sat, the stillness of the Burrow reaching Harry's consciousness.
"You think everyone's gone to bed?" he asked. Ron shrugged.
"Dunno. Part of me wants to know exactly where everyone is and make sure they're okay. Another part of me just wants to sleep for a year. But I'm not sure I'll be able to do the second until I'm certain of the first."
Harry nodded, feeling a bit guilty that he only really felt that way about one person.
"Hungry?" Harry asked, and Ron nodded as they both stood and slowly made their way out of the room. Harry followed along as Ron paused at each door on the way down, sometimes just putting an ear against the door and other times opening it a crack to peek inside. Crying could be heard from behind Molly and Arthur's door, so they'd moved on without bothering them. Nothing could be heard from Fred and George's room, so Ron looked in to find the two beds pushed together and Bill and Fleur fast asleep. They found George in Percy's old bed, Percy lying beside him on a cot much like the one Harry usually used.
When they reached the final bedroom on their descent, Ron paused, his ear pressed to the door and his hand hesitantly gripping the knob. Harry felt like screaming in impatient frustration.
But then Ron quickly pulled back. He didn't even say a word to Harry before turning and hurrying down the rest of the stairs, leaving a confused Harry to follow.
"Ron?" he asked as he entered the kitchen. Ron was now opening and closing cabinet doors aimlessly, obviously agitated.
"Want to put the kettle on?" he said over his shoulder, continuing to search the kitchen. Harry nodded, watching his best friend even as he did as asked.
"Were they in there?" he asked.
"Who?" said Ron, who'd managed to find a loaf of bread and was now pulling out meats and cheeses. Harry rolled his eyes. The world may have come close to ending twelve hours ago but, in some ways, his best friend was still the same person he'd always been.
"Hermione and Ginny," he said. "Were they up there?"
"Oh, yeah," said Ron, not even looking up as he proceeded to make very hearty sandwiches.
"Okay…" said Harry, moving to grab cups and sugar for their tea. "How did you know?"
Ron shrugged as he finished making one sandwich and started on another. "I heard them talking."
Harry nodded, studying his friend closely. He really had no clue what to expect when it came to Ron's thoughts on his relationship with Ginny. They hadn't talked about it since they'd left the Burrow all those months ago. Did Ron still hold the same opinion that he had then?
Even if Ron did still have an issue, Harry hadn't expected that to get in the way of Ron's relationship with Hermione. And if Harry desperately wanted to see and talk to Ginny, surely Ron felt the same about Hermione?
Of course, most of what he knew about that particular relationship were assumptions made from quite a few observations over the years - the last few weeks and even hours in particular. But even if he wanted to, Harry could no longer deny the fact that there was far more between Ron and Hermione than just friendship. And there was no way they weren't both fully aware of it too.
So why hadn't he wanted to see her?
"How come you didn't knock?" Harry asked. Ron didn't even look up as he shrugged and sat at the table to eat his food.
"Dunno," he said, taking a bite out of his sandwich a second later and continuing to avoid Harry's gaze. With a sigh, Harry turned to remove the now boiling kettle from the stove, bringing it over to the table to pour into their waiting cups before taking the seat across from Ron.
"Okay," said Harry. "Are you avoiding her?"
"Who?"
"Hermione."
"What? No!"
Harry looked pointedly at his best friend before taking a bite of his own sandwich. Ron squirmed under his penetrating gaze before giving a resigned sigh.
"I can't, okay?" he confessed, sounding truly gutted by the idea. "Not yet."
"What? Why?" Harry asked with a furrowed brow. He waited while Ron consumed half his sandwich in silent contemplation, allowing him to gather his thoughts and possibly his courage to say whatever it was he had to say next.
"Because she deserves better."
Harry stared at Ron, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Are you fucking serious right now?" he asked. Ron merely gave a somber nod, which caused Harry to nearly growl in frustration.
"Look," he snapped, causing Ron to look at him in shock. "I know we've never really talked about all this before, but outside of how well the two of you know each other, I think I know you both the best, right? Well, Hermione may be brilliant and practical and ambitious, but she's not perfect. And neither are you. You're insecure and irrational. But you're also the most loyal and trustworthy person I know. And I can tell you right now that you're absolutely barking mad if you think that you don't deserve her. And I'd bet all my gold in Gringotts that she thinks the same."
Harry glared at his best friend, tired of putting up with the insecurities that he thought Ron had mostly kicked once they'd arrived at Shell Cottage, if not when he first found them in the forest again. But he was surprised to see Ron crack a slight smile and shake his head.
"Wow," he said. "That wasn't really what I meant, but it's nice to know you feel that way."
Harry looked at him in confusion. "What?"
Ron gave Harry another small smile, then stood and made his way over to a cabinet above the sink.
"I think this conversation calls for something a little stronger than tea," he said, pulling out a bottle of firewhiskey and returning to the table. Harry pulled his wand and conjured glasses for each of them, watching a surprisingly collected Ron in confusion as he poured them healthy doses of the alcohol.
"Okay," said Ron, resuming his seat and taking a swig of his whiskey. "You're right. We've never really talked about this, which, I'll admit, was pretty intentional on my part."
Harry nodded, understanding what didn't need to be said. He'd clearly seen what the locket had shown Ron and understood the fears his best friend had carried for who knew how long, even if he hadn't always believed them to be true. If he'd been in Ron's shoes, he would've done everything he could to avoid bringing up the subject too.
"Anyway," Ron continued, "I'm at a point now - and I think Hermione is too - where I can't not talk about it anymore. And to be honest, up until a moment ago, I was still worried to talk to you about all this."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"You're our best friend," Ron said with a shrug. "I honestly didn't know how you felt about it. I mean, it changes things. Plus, you told me she's like your sister. And I know what it's like to have blokes date your sister."
Harry willed himself not to flush, but managed to nod as he awkwardly cleared his throat. Ron barely paid this any mind.
"I guess part of me worried that you might not think I deserve her, even if she does."
"What?" Harry asked in surprise. "Ron, that's mad!"
"I know," he said with a sheepish shrug. "I mean, I do now. But up until you, I never thought anyone was good enough for Ginny. And I'm not sure I'll ever think I'm good enough for Hermione, no matter what anyone else might say."
Harry nodded, ignoring the rush of hope he felt at Ron's words. They could come back to that later.
"You know," Harry said after taking his own sip of whiskey, "don't let it go to your head, but sometimes I don't think Hermione's good enough for you.
He was fairly positive he'd never seen Ron's eyes wider.
"I'm serious," Harry insisted. "Ron, you may not be as book smart as Hermione, but you're brilliant in your own way, not to mention a laugh. You're also the most generous person I know. I know you don't feel like you have much, but you've shared your family and your home with me for years and only ever made me feel like I belong here. And you were willing to take Hermione's place at Malfoy Manor. And then you saved her life that night. Even with all the things you've done that make you feel like an absolute prat that will never make up for his mistakes, you're already well deserving of anything you want. Including Hermione."
Ron was bright red, and Harry was tempted to feel guilty for making him feel so uncomfortable. But everything he said was true. And Ron needed to hear it.
"You do too, you know," Ron said softly. "You deserve to be happy more than any of us."
Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably and finished his glass of whiskey. Ron smirked at him. "Not so easy to hear, is it?"
Harry narrowed his eyes at him. "So," he said as he refilled his glass, "what's this about Hermione not deserving something?"
"Right," said Ron, scratching his ear and looking a bit uncomfortable. It would take some getting used to, Harry realized. Talking about their love lives.
"It's just too soon, you know?" Ron said. "Everything is still so fresh and there's just a hell of a lot to deal with. And I've wanted this for so bloody long," he said, Harry unable to miss the longing in his voice. "The last thing I want to do is risk bollocksing it up because I got the timing wrong. She deserves more than that."
"But how will you know when the timing will be right?" said Harry, asking for himself as much as for Ron.
"Hell if I know," Ron said before finishing off his own whiskey. "I'm hoping I'll know it when I see it. And just now wasn't it."
Harry nodded, his mind conjuring up different scenarios that could take place over the next few days. Scenarios that allowed him the opportunity to talk to Ginny. Would he know the right time when he saw it? Would she want the same things he did? Would she even want to talk to him at all?
"Besides," Ron continued. "I reckon Ginny deserves a little break from the three of us keeping her out of things. I probably would've gotten a nasty glare from her if I'd tried to drag Hermione away."
Guilt immediately began to swirl in Harry's stomach. He didn't regret the choices he'd made regarding Ginny. He'd made them to keep her safe and she'd survived. But now that they were on the other side, he couldn't help wishing he'd been able to do things differently.
"You still love her, right?"
Harry's eyes snapped to Ron. Even if he wanted to deny it, there was no doubt Ron could clearly read the truth on his face. A truth that he'd never fully acknowledged before and that frankly terrified him.
"I'm not sure I know how to," he admitted softly, nervously meeting Ron's eyes. Rather than the stern look and scolding he'd been expecting, his best friend gave him a sympathetic smile.
"I think you do," said Ron. "I mean, if you walking into the forest wasn't love…"
Harry couldn't help feeling a deep gratitude for Ron in that moment, but his words weren't enough to dismiss his fears. "Yeah. If nothing else, I think the whole dying for all of you means I've got the sacrificial part of love down."
He'd meant to go on, but the words had rung so strangely in the air around them that he had to pause. There was amusement in Ron's eyes and it struck Harry as oddly comforting that the same thing they'd been in tears over less than an hour ago now had them holding back laughter. And then they weren't holding back, laughter bubbling up their throats and bouncing around the kitchen as tears of a different kind fell from their eyes, all the relief and grief and confused emotions combining in such a way to make the whole thing seem unbelievable and ridiculous.
"Bloody hell," Ron said when he was finally able to catch his breath. "My head's such a fucking mess right now."
Harry nodded as his chuckles subsided. He grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey and topped off Ron's near empty glass. Before he could consider backtracking and continuing their conversation, the sound of heavy footsteps had both of them turning towards the door to the sitting room. A tousle haired and drowsy Charlie entered the kitchen a moment later. He only took a moment to glance between Harry, Ron, and the bottle of alcohol before he was sitting next to his brother with his own glass and the bottle of whiskey in his hand.
"What're you doing up?" Ron asked as his older brother downed his glass in one go.
"I was sleeping on the sofa," said Charlie. "Bit hard to do with you two nutters cackling away in here. Nice to know you've found something to laugh about, though."
Harry and Ron shared an amused look, a silent agreement passing between them that they wouldn't tell Charlie what they'd found so funny. Because it wasn't really that funny at all.
Exhaustion and grief could have the strangest effect.
Charlie waved away Ron's muttered apology as he poured himself more firewhiskey. "It's all right," he said. "I'm not about to complain about sharing a drink with my little brother for the first time. Especially since he's been running around helping save the bloody world for the better part of a year."
Ron's ears turned red, but Harry couldn't help smiling. He knew Ron had always felt like a bit of an afterthought when it came to his family, the last boy in a string of brothers before the long awaited daughter showed up. But seeing Charlie sitting there and talking about Ron as if he was not only valued but had been a part of something that was worth a lifetime of respect only confirmed what Harry had suspected all along. Ron didn't need to compare himself to any of his brothers. In fact, they were just as likely to feel like they had to live up to him.
Charlie had just started in on the questions Harry was expecting to hear from all of the Weasleys - where had they been, what had they been doing - when the sound of someone else moving around the house caught his attention. A chill ran up his spine as the soft padding of bare feet carried down the stairs. The conversation across from him was forgotten as Harry focused his attention on the doorway, waiting for her to appear.
Her brothers fell silent when she did, and she froze in the doorway as her brown eyes met Harry's, fear and hurt and longing and relief all mingling together as she drank him in. Harry felt like the wind had been knocked out of him as he watched her, waiting for her to do or say something. But he slouched in disappointment as she tore her eyes away from his and walked towards the door, only acknowledging any of them further by running a hand over Charlie's hair as she passed him before heading out into the garden.
Harry rested his elbows on the table and buried his head in his hands, holding in the pathetic moan of misery he was tempted to let loose. It was ridiculous, really. He could face the most dangerous dark wizard of all time, but he couldn't think of a single thing to say to the girl he loved?
Well, he could tell her he loved her. That would be a good place to start. But it also brought him back to his previous concern. Telling her he loved her and actually loving her were two different things. And while he thought he might be able to muster up enough courage to do the first, the second was another matter entirely.
"Mate, just go talk to her," Ron said with a sigh. Harry scowled but didn't lift his head.
"Like you're going to just go talk to Hermione?"
"I'm going to," Ron countered in frustration. "But this feels like your moment, and you've got a hell of a lot more explaining to do than me. And she deserves that if nothing else."
Harry sighed and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. He straightened his glasses before looking up at an expectant Ron and a confused Charlie.
"How is this more terrifying than everything else I've faced in the last twenty-four hours?" Harry grumbled. Ron frowned in thought.
"Well, probably because if Ginny decided to kill you, she'd actually succeed."
Charlie snorted and pulled Harry's hardly touched sandwich towards himself. Harry and Ron managed to control their laughter this time, but only just.
"Honestly, though," Ron said through a light chuckle. "It's probably because you've actually got the rest of your life to live, and I'd wager Ginny could play a big part in determining what that life looks like."
The sincerity and simple truth to Ron's words were staggering. So much so, that Harry couldn't help wondering if Ron felt the same thing in regard to their mutual best friend.
"Hang on, are you in love with my sister?" Charlie asked, his brow furrowed as he pointed at Harry.
"Of course he is," Ron said with a scoff. "Where've you been?"
"Romania."
"Oh, right."
"So it's not just some one-sided crush anymore?"
"Nah, she actually sort of got over that for a bit. At least, she acted like she had. But then-"
The retelling of his love life was cut short as Harry stood from the table, his nerves on end and his determination setting in. He looked between the two grinning brothers and as annoying as they were, Harry was grateful that they were at least encouraging him rather than trying to threaten him away from their sister.
"Right," he said bracingly. "Any final words of advice?"
"Umm…" said Charlie thoughtfully. "I'd steer clear of any talk that makes her feel like you're treating her like a child. She hates that."
"And don't act all heroic," said Ron. "She'll only roll her eyes and call you an idiot."
"Oh, and Quidditch metaphors work really well."
"Don't interrupt her either. It'll only make her yell."
"Also, she might be underage but she will pull her wand on you, so-"
"Are the two of you done yet?"
All three of them jumped in surprise at the sound of Ginny's voice drifting through the screen door. Harry gave a nervous gulp, the fact that she'd been merely waiting out on the porch sending both fear and hope coursing through him. Sure, she'd heard everything they'd said, but was she also just waiting for him to come after her?
"I think that's your cue, mate," Ron whispered. And Harry nodded before taking a deep breath and marching out onto the back porch.