CHAPTER 4 – ALL MANNER OF SURPRISES

Three soft pops announced the return of all the residents of Malfoy Manor. As impossible as it seemed, Lucius, Narcissa and Draco had not only survived the Battle of Hogwarts, but had also been allowed to walk away without a single question being asked. They had sat quietly in the Great Hall while announcements were made and celebrations begun, waiting anxiously for someone – anyone – to confront them, but it never happened. They would have been even more surprised about being allowed to go free had they known that Harry Potter had stared directly at them from beneath his invisibility cloak.

But Lucius had insisted that they sit there while their enemies congratulated themselves and even went so far as to throw food into the mouth of a ridiculous giant. It had taken every ounce of self-discipline he possessed, but he had endured the reveling of those he despised without betraying himself or his family. It had worked to their good fortune that the Dark Lord had stripped him of his wand, for surely he would have been hauled off to Azkaban, or worse, had he been involved in the fighting.

"And what a joke the Dark Lord had turned out to be in the end, overlooking the fundamentals of wand lore, failing to monitor his Horcruxes, and making himself fatally vulnerable to an unremarkable Half-Blood like Harry Bloody Potter."

Lucius Malfoy turned to look at his wife and son, anger etched into every pore of his face.

"Do you realize how incredibly lucky you are, Narcissa? Had the Dark Lord not been mistaken in his wand lore, we would all be dead now! Telling your master that Potter was dead while yet he lived … what were you thinking?"

"I was only thinking of our son!" she replied, equally angry. "Draco was trapped in the castle, and I couldn't think of any other way that we could get to him. If Potter was declared dead, the battle would end and Draco would survive."

"And what about you?" Lucius asked, turning his anger upon his son. "What were you doing in the castle?"

"I was trying to kill Potter … trying to save our family from the disgrace of having your wand taken from you, Father."

"Trying, but failing yet again," answered Lucius, a sneer lacing his voice.

"I had him dead to rights if Crabbe hadn't got careless with Fiendfyre. After that, it was all I could do to escape with my own life," Draco lied. He was determined that his father never learn that it had been Harry Potter who saved his life when the Fiendfyre had raged out of control in the Room of Requirement.

Neither would he admit that Ron Weasley had saved him later while the battle raged.

"Well, it's always been hard being the most intelligent Death Eater. We're going to have to recruit more selectively from here on out."

"Recruit?" asked Narcissa, disbelief evident in her voice.

"Of course," answered Lucius. "Now that it is perfectly obvious how to gain control of the Deathstick, why should we give up?"

"You're fucking joking, right?" said Draco, his voice dripping with disrespect, something he had never before dared show his father. "It's quite obvious that the Elder Wand isn't unbeatable."

"No, Draco, you misunderstand the Wand of Destiny. If you understood it, you never would have left Hogwarts without it."

"Like I had any fucking clue that Dumbledore had the Elder Wand," answered Draco, "or a way to get it back when it flew over the parapet."

"Now, now, Draco, let's not curse," drawled Lucius, patronizing his son while pointedly ignoring his foul mood. "It's not becoming for someone of your station in life."

"My station in life? We're lucky not to be in Azkaban, and you're carrying on about our station in life!" spat Draco, a look of contempt etched on his face. "The Dark Lord has fallen, if you haven't noticed."

"True enough, son. But Darkness itself never dies. It simply has to find a new champion. Now that I know how to master the world's most powerful wand, we can set about doing things properly. All we have to do is defeat Harry Potter."

"And how will you do that, Father? Didn't you see him out-duel the greatest wizard of the century?"

"I did, but who said anything about taking on Potter in a duel? There are other ways to finish a wizard, especially when he won't be expecting an attack. For the moment, let's keep a low profile and wait for the right opportunity to present itself. I don't think it will be too long in coming."

Molly Weasley was drained, thinking herself beyond the capacity to react to anything emotionally. Preparing the bodies of Nymphadora Tonks and Remus Lupin for burial had been one of the worst experiences of her life, but she had barely survived the process with her beloved son. Molly had endured more trials with her twins than with all of her other children combined, and Fred had been the undeniable instigator of the vast majority of their misbehaviors.

She had loved him as well as all the others, but it would be a lie to deny that she had spent much of his short life annoyed by his antics. It pained her to recall how she had thought her twins to be without ambition, since they had become the most financially successful of her children. She regretted telling people how she would have preferred for them to take jobs at the Ministry rather than opening a joke shop, knowing now how it would have destroyed their creative genius. At that moment she would have given anything to erase those feelings, and prayed with all her heart that Fred had known how very much she loved him.

"Bloody Voldemort! The bastard ruined everything he touched. He took my brothers, and now my son. He took our friends, our associates, and even the innocence I've tried so hard to preserve."

As she trudged up the stairs into Gryffindor Tower, Molly promised herself she would never again lose her temper with any of her children. After washing the corpse of her son, what could ever bring her to anger again?

The Fat Lady opened for her without question. It had never occurred to Molly that she could Apparate now that the wards had fallen before Voldemort. The walk had done her some good, however, and she had begun to focus once again. As she entered the Common Room, Molly was surprised to find no one there. But she knew that her children, Harry, and Hermione had stayed up through the night and were undoubtedly exhausted. She thought for a moment and decided that Ginny was the one she most wanted to talk to.

Molly's only daughter, though fiercely independent, had always been willing to talk with her mum – really talk about her feelings, hopes, and desires. Ginny would lend a willing ear to her mother's grief, and perhaps Molly could lend her daughter a shoulder as well. Maybe then she could begin to recover in the warmth and assurance of her family.

So, desperately in need of her daughter, Molly turned from the Gryffindor Common Room and climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitories. She reminded herself that Ginny was nearly of age, nearly an adult, and silently reiterated her intent to treat her daughter like a grown woman. Fred's death had taught her to cherish every moment with her children, as there were no promises of tomorrow. Nothing could bring her to waste a moment on any emotion other than love and appreciation. Nothing, except …

"RONALD WEASLEY!" she shouted. "WHATEVER DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING HERE?"

The sight of her son, lying naked with Hermione Granger, broke through her resolution and spurred her into an instinctive reaction.

Ron and Hermione awoke instantly. Without thinking, Ron pulled the cover over Hermione and replied, "Bloody hell, Mum! I'm sleeping with my girlfriend. Isn't that obvious?" His voice contained no indication of embarrassment or remorse. He was proud of Hermione and prouder still to belong undeniably to her.

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," added Hermione, demonstrating the same calm demeanor she had shown with Professor McGonagall.

Molly's temper receded as quickly as it had risen. She had long suspected that something was brewing between her youngest son and this brilliant young witch. She chastised herself for not having expected something like this to be happening, although the time and place seemed out of context. However, Molly well remembered that she and Arthur had come together during a time of war and had chosen not to wait to be together. After all, they had been made for each other. As far as she could tell, the same thing applied to Ron and Hermione. In fact, they reminded her remarkably of herself and her husband - Ron with his phenomenal capacity for love and loyalty, Hermione with her brilliance, strength and determination.

"I'm so sorry, dears," she said softly. "I was looking for Ginny and thought she might be up here."

"No, Mum, she's not," said Ron. "She was over on the boys' side with Harry last we knew."

"With Harry?" she asked, her voice rising higher than she intended.

"Yes, Mum."

"When did that happen?" asked Molly. She was fully aware that Ginny had once been infatuated with the famous wizard, but had never realized that these feelings had progressed.

"They started dating last year, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione softly. "He broke things off with her, but only to protect her from Voldemort."

"I see," replied Molly. "Was it serious?" she continued, not knowing what to expect.

"Don't know," muttered Ron. "I think…." but Hermione cut him off.

"Yes, Mrs. Weasley, it was. I think it still is. Harry was frantic to see her once he had finished tying up things with Ron and me."

"So, are they … ah … do you think they are as … far along as you two seem to be?"

"I don't think so, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione. "But I wouldn't be too surprised by anything Harry might be thinking at this point. I'm not sure what you picked up from tonight's confrontation, but before Harry fought Voldemort in the Great Hall, he went into the Forbidden Forest and took a Killing Curse without even trying to defend himself. So, Harry has come face to face with death even more intensely than Ron and I have. I think he knows exactly what is important to him, and Ginny sits on top of the list."

"Well, I guess that's true, love, but you were pretty close to death when Bellatrix Lestrange was torturing you," interjected Ron.

Molly gasped, covering her mouth with her hand, but Hermione responded as if Mrs. Weasley hadn't been there.

"Yes, Ronald, that was close enough for me … and you'll note that I've made some decisions regarding priorities, as well," said Hermione, a playful grin spreading across her face.

"You have?" he asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully before looking pointedly at Ron, then down at herself, and finally sweeping over the bed, where they still lay together.

Mrs. Weasley was a touch quicker on the uptake, as the awkwardness of the immediate situation finally overcame the trauma of having completed ablutions for her friends and family.

"Let me apologize again, dears, for interrupting you. It's time I try to find Ginny. By the way, Minerva decided to have a burial ceremony at 4:30 this afternoon for those who want their loved ones buried here at Hogwarts. I'm not sure if Fred would have wanted to be buried here, where he gave his life fighting for everything he believed in. What do you think?"

Ron looked at Hermione, who looked back quizzically. She wasn't a Weasley. It wasn't up to her. However, she noticed the ambivalence in Mrs. Weasley's voice and found it a little unlikely that Fred would have chosen Hogwarts for his burial place. He'd never been particularly academically inclined, and had seemed his happiest at the shop he and George had opened in Diagon Alley, or at home at the Burrow. Hermione's face must have betrayed her misgivings because Ron's eyes were studying her intently. At last he spoke.

"Mum, I don't think Fred ever felt like Hogwarts was his home. It's not like he hated it here, but he seemed happier once he and George got out on their own."

"So, where would you suggest?" she asked, fidgeting noticeably.

"In the family plot at home," he said as gently as he could. He'd never before seen his mother quite so undone, and it tore at his heart. He knew instinctively that she needed reassurance. "Fred would have wanted to be at the Burrow since he was happiest at home with you, Dad, and the rest of us."

"I see," said Molly, tears brimming in her eyes. "I couldn't get an answer from your father. He's pretty torn up and has been busying himself with things for the Ministry today."

It worried her to think of her husband throwing himself into work, delaying the inevitable grief that had yet to come home to roost. However, she had been in love with Arthur for so long that she knew he would have to deal with this terrible blow in his own way.

"Thank you, dears," said Molly as she prepared to leave the room. She heaved a deep sigh at the thought of burying one son while letting yet another one go to a young woman who now owned his heart. "Burial service at 4:30 by Dumbledore's tomb, but I think you're right about Fred. We'll take him home tonight. Will you two be coming home to the Burrow?"

"Yes, that sounds good," said Hermione, looking deeply into Ron's tender blue eyes, "unless Ron needs some time alone."

"Not bloody likely," he replied without breaking eye contact. "But after Fred's burial, I believe we'll need to make a trip to Australia and retrieve your parents, don't you think?"

Hermione tried to reply but the words simply wouldn't come. Molly could tell that she was overwhelmed with emotion, as the younger witch gazed reverently at Ron with a mixture of gratitude, respect, and love.

Molly turned to leave, tears of pride and indescribable pain mingling as they trickled down her face. The same war that had taken Fred's life had turned her youngest son into a man. It had truly been too much to hope that nine Weasleys could go into war and escape unscathed, yet they had come so very close. Molly knew they had been fortunate beyond all hope, but nothing could take away the pain of losing a child.

*****

Ron breathed a sigh of relief when at last his mother left the girls' dormitory to continue searching for Ginny.

As soon as she disappeared down the stairwell, he slipped an arm over Hermione's shoulder and pulled her tightly against his chest. The skin of her back felt smooth and warm against him, and the erection that had softened upon the surprising arrival of his mother was quickly regaining its intensity. Hermione had obviously taken notice, for she pressed back seductively against his arousal.

"I think we forgot the locking charm," whispered Ron.

"Better to forget that than the contraceptive charm," she replied. After retrieving her wand from the bedside table, Hermione flicked it toward the door and uttered "Colloportus."

The door magically sealed itself with the distinctive squelching sound that always accompanied the spell.
"So, you really want to come with me to Australia?" asked Hermione.

"Of course I do. Your parents may not remember that they have a daughter, but their daughter knows that she has parents. That can't be easy for you, Hermione."

"It's hard," she acknowledged. "But the amazing thing is that you're thinking about my parents in the midst of everything else that is going on," she continued softly, looking solemnly up at his concerned gaze.

"Well, I may be a tosser, but I've always cared about you. Always," he whispered tenderly into her ear.

Gooseflesh erupted on Hermione's arms, whether from the breath in her ear or the intensity of his declaration, Ron couldn't tell. Regardless of the cause, Hermione turned to face her boyfriend, who wasted no time in placing a kiss on her lips. She rewarded his aggressiveness with a moan and parted her lips, again inviting him to deepen the kiss.

Ron allowed his hands to roam freely over her delicate skin, caressing her flesh while his tongue explored the warmth of her mouth. He resisted the urge to consume her with his hands, opting instead for a softer touch, supporting the fullness of her breasts with his palms while brushing gentle circles around her quickly hardening nipples.

At last, Ron broke from her lips and began sprinkling kisses along her jaw before settling near her ear.

He was fully aroused and wanted desperately to plunge back into her, yet he remained determined to explore the mysteries of her body first.

Hermione responded enthusiastically when Ron took her earlobe between his teeth, and then began moaning in earnest when Ron allowed his tongue to lave her neck immediately below her ear. Perhaps she was a bit ticklish, he thought, but her response was to draw him closer rather than to flee his touch. When her reactions indicated that the feeling had become too much, Ron began to trail his lips along her neck, before settling into the hollow of her collarbone.

Then, as his lips moved lower to find her left breast, Hermione began thrusting her hips toward him, desperate for contact. In response, Ron moved his left hand across her stomach and settled his palm upon her mound of soft curls, allowing his middle finger to reach farther below, separating her already wet lips. As her thrusting became more pronounced, Ron deepened both the strength of his kisses upon her breast and the penetration of his finger between her labia, simultaneously increasing the pressure on her pubic bone and clit.

Ron was becoming lost in the experience, amazed at the level of response his fingers could evoke. As his own excitement built along with hers, Ron began to moan as his tongue flicked passionately across her nipple. He could sense the pleasure building within her, causing him to want even more. At last, he sucked firmly at her breast, taking her hardened nipple lightly between his teeth. At the same time he allowed a second finger to slip inside her while firmly stroking her clit with his thumb. Hermione exploded with an orgasm, running her fingers through his ginger hair and clutching his head against her chest.

As her shudders subsided, Ron increased the pressure, hoping to bring her even more pleasure. Hermione suddenly began to pull away, and when he responded even more aggressively, she grabbed his hand in her own.

"Give me a moment to rest, love," she whispered in her ear.

"But I want it to be good for you," he replied.

"Trust me, it was brilliant. But I need some time to recover."

So, Ron slid his hand down to her thigh, released her breast from his lips, and lowered his head to rest lightly upon her stomach. He lay there quietly; listening as her heartbeat returned to normal and feeling her trembling come to a complete stop. As they rested, Ron was becoming progressively more lost in her scent until at last he knew he would die if he didn't soon get the chance to taste her.

"So, brilliant, was it?" he asked suggestively as he lifted his eyes to gaze up at Hermione.

"Yes, Ron, brilliant. Perfectly brilliant," she replied.

Ron flashed a heartfelt smile as his eyes sparkled all the more.

"What are you grinning about, Ronald?"

"I'm just thinking about how much I love you."

"Well, I love you, too, but I know that's not why you're grinning like that. So tell me!"

"It's something for me to know, love," he countered, dropping his lips back to her stomach and sprinkling kisses in a trail toward her navel. He could have sworn he heard something resembling a purr coming from her. Encouraged by this response, Ron slipped his tongue lightly into her belly button, causing Hermione to arch her back toward him. Hoping enough time had passed to constitute a rest, he cautiously slipped farther down her abdomen, deepening his kisses, lightly nipping at her with his teeth and sucking seductively on her soft skin. With each successive kiss, Ron was finding it ever more difficult to hold back. Hermione's luscious scent was becoming overwhelming, driving Ron to the brink as his cock threatened to explode against the sheet. At last, after what seemed to have been a lifetime, he lowered his lips to brush lightly against the upper edge of her light brown curls.

Hermione released an almost feral moan and arched forcefully upward, forcing his lips ever closer to her clit. At last Ron gave up on restraint and slid his face between her thighs at the same moment that he swung his legs over the foot of her bed. She thrust forward once again, inviting his tongue to slip inside her. Ron had never even dreamed of this, but as he gave way to instinct, he found that it was the most intoxicating thing he had ever done in his life.

Despite his inexperience, Ron realized he must have been doing something right, for Hermione's moans were growing progressively louder as she thrust her hips repeatedly against his lips. It took him a moment to realize that she was guiding him, arching her back and pressing forward in sweeping motions that took his tongue repetitively from the base of her opening to her clit, and back again. He adjusted his technique to synch with hers, and in moments felt her muscles begin to tense as her movements became more erratic.

As he sensed Hermione's pleasure mounting, Ron could feel his own climax beginning to rise. He pulled up on his knees, raising his penis away from the bed, and bringing his mouth more firmly against her. At the same time he slid his hands beneath her bum, elevating her to provide for even deeper penetration of his tongue while his upper lip continued massaging her clit. Finally, Hermione's hips pitched forward forcefully.

"Oh, God, Ron!" she screamed as contractions rolled in waves across her body. Her hands sought desperately for his hair, took hold, and pulled him firmly against her center. He could feel her pulsating against his tongue as she continued to murmur, "God, Ron! Oh, God!"

Then, as suddenly as she had crushed him against her, she began pulling his face upward.

"Now, Ron! Inside me … now!"

Ron shuffled his knees forward while raising his torso to a near vertical position. Hermione arched again, meeting his thrust with her own, as his cock slipped tightly inside her. He pulled back slowly, almost separating from her completely before moving carefully forward once again. As they met, Ron felt her heels curling up behind his thighs. He had never felt anything like this before. Their first time together had been wonderful, but he had been constantly concerned about hurting her. The second time was entirely different, and he wanted to do everything possible to make the sensations last. Again he pulled away from his lover, shivering as the ridge of his penis flicked against her phenomenally tight opening. Just as he was about to lose contact, Hermione dug her heels into the back of his thighs and pulled him back into her with all the power she could generate. Her silken inner muscles clamped down firmly upon him, and Ron Weasley's orgasm shook him to the core. He shuddered markedly with each additional thrust, until at last he had emptied himself inside her.

"Ron?" she whispered. "I really didn't know anybody did that sort of thing when you started kissing me down there, but I think I would have killed you if you had stopped. God, that was brilliant!"

"I loved it Hermione, but mainly I love you. I don't know why, but it was something I just had to do, and you wouldn't have had to kill me, because I was going to die if I didn't get to taste you!"

"Oh, Ronald, I love you, too – more than words could possibly describe." And with that, he scooted up beside her on the bed and leaned toward her to place a light kiss upon her lips. But Hermione wanted more, melting into his body and parting her lips to seek his tongue.

Another twenty minutes passed, and Ron's breathing deepened and slowed to keep time with Hermione's. His last recollection before drifting into sleep was the sound of Hermione's voice screaming his name in ecstasy.

*****

As she returned to the stairwell, Molly reflected upon the bizarre scenario she had just left behind. Had she really stood beside Hermione's bed, discussing burial plans for Fred while her youngest son lay naked in bed with his lover? Had she been so desperate to communicate with her children that she had been willing to violate Ron and Hermione's privacy? For Merlin's sake, they were both 18 years old, the same age she and Arthur had been when they married, and joined Albus Dumbledore in the original Order of the Phoenix.

Molly couldn't stop her mind from reflecting back upon the roster of those who had given everything to stop Voldemort: Albus Dumbledore, Alastor Moody, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Nymphadora Tonks, James and Lily Potter, Frank and Alice Longbottom, all dead or worse, having paid the price for choosing what was right over what was easy. Fabian Prewett, Gideon Prewett, her beloved brothers, Fred Weasley, her cherished son, had also been taken from her. The sense of loss was overwhelming, causing Molly to feel a stab of pain with each step down the stairs. She wobbled noticeably and had to grab the handrail to keep her balance as she thought of each friend or family member who should still be part of her daily life. "Mollywobbles, indeed!" she thought sardonically.

Reaching the landing for the Gryffindor Common Room, Molly had another choice to make. Should she wait there in privacy, return to the Great Hall and the center of activity, or fulfill her original mission by finding Ginny? Her only daughter was more like Molly than any of her other children and not solely due to the fact that she was female.

Ginny was fiercely independent and possessed the strength of character to match her impressive magical powers. Ginevra Molly Weasley was every bit as much a Prewett as she was a Weasley. Fabian, Gideon, and Molly had been considered among the best witches and wizards of their age. That very morning, Molly had demonstrated why people had thought so highly of the Prewett children's abilities by single-handedly taking down Bellatrix Lestrange. No doubt about it, the Prewetts had been strong – were still strong, with Molly as the matriarch of the Weasley clan. As far as Molly was concerned, her Ginny fit the Prewett mold perfectly.

Other than Ron, who had more than fulfilled his duties in the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, the Weasley men were keeping themselves fully occupied with the demands of the recovery effort. Molly, of course, could have joined them. However, making herself busy didn't seem the proper response. She needed to talk. She needed to grieve. She needed to see Ginny's warm brown eyes gazing up at her in understanding.

So, knowingly risking a repeat of her experience with Ron and Hermione, she began climbing the stairs that led to the boys' dormitories. The way was not new to her, as she had made frequent clandestine visits up the same stairs during her own years at Hogwarts. Once she had begun dating Arthur Weasley, her heart had been taken completely. She had never regretted the decision to marry that wonderful man, or her choice to stay at the Burrow to raise their family. In that role, she had been the heart, soul, and strength of the family – the disciplinarian and the caregiver. But now, except during summers, the Burrow was empty and Molly's children had scattered to the four winds. Now that Hermione and Ron were obviously together, and Harry and Ginny had apparently taken an interest in one another, Molly wondered how long she would have even one child at home for the summer.

At last she arrived at the doorway of the seventh-year boys' dormitory. The door swung open easily, telling her that it was probably safe to enter – either that, or Harry and Ginny had been too swept up in their reunion to cast any locking or silencing charms. She moved cautiously into the circular room and immediately spotted her fully clothed daughter sleeping peacefully, with Harry's arm draped protectively over her shoulder. Ginny appeared peaceful, with the remnants of a gentle smile lingering on her lips.

Molly couldn't help noticing the ruby pendant, and recognized it immediately as the one Lily Evans had worn on very special occasions. The central stone was perfect, weighed more than three carats and was framed by four flawless diamond baguettes. No one knew how deeply this piece of jewelry stretched into the history of the Potters and their Peverell family forebears.

The fact that this particular piece of jewelry now resided on her daughter's neck provided a clear answer to the question of how seriously Harry felt about Ginny. It was not the kind of thing to be parted with lightly.

Molly's eyes drifted farther down Ginny's body until, ignoring the fact that Harry's hand was cupped over her daughter' breast, her vision focused on Ginny's left hand. She should have expected to see Lily's ring, the inverse of the pendant, with its stunningly perfect three-carat diamond, offset by blazing rubies. Still, the sight of an engagement ring on her sixteen-year-old daughter's hand came as a major surprise. Suddenly her last question was answered. Ginny would not be living at the Burrow much longer, and Molly and Arthur would be starting the next phase of their lives sooner than expected. Overcome, she couldn't suppress an audible gasp.

With a sweeping movement that was far too fast to comprehend, Harry flung as much of himself as possible over Ginny and pointed his wand directly at the intruder. It took him only a second to identify his future mother-in-law, and an embarrassed smile of recognition spread slowly across his face.

"Sorry, Mrs. Weasley," Harry whispered, trying to keep from waking Ginny. However, the commotion had already been too much.

"Mum?" mumbled Ginny. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been looking for you, dear," she answered while closing the distance between the entry and Harry's bed. "Oh, Ginny, your ring is so beautiful! And the pendant, too!"

"Thanks, Mum. I'm sorry, but this isn't exactly the way I'd planned for you to find out that Harry and I are engaged."

"Oh, Harry, your mother's jewelry," whispered Molly. "How romantic! And, Ginny, has Harry told you the history behind these pieces?"

"I don't know any history, Mrs. Weasley – except that they belonged to my mum. But when I saw them, I knew they would look perfect on Ginny."

"Well," replied Molly, "these pieces have been handed down for generations through the Potters, and the Peverells before them. Sirius told us all about them, although James and Lily wouldn't say a word. This is some of the most valuable jewelry in the Wizarding World."

"I didn't know," answered Harry honestly as a look of slight embarrassment crept across his face.

Molly smiled warmly and reached out to hug Harry, who had disentangled himself from Ginny to sit on the side of his four-poster bed.

"Congratulations, Harry dear," she whispered warmly. "You've found yourself a wonderful witch."

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," he answered, "She is rather wonderful, isn't she?"

"She's right here if you hadn't noticed," interrupted Ginny, "or would you two prefer to continue talking about me instead of to me?"

Molly dropped her hold on Harry and turned her attention back to her daughter, first taking Ginny's left hand into her own and examining her engagement ring. She had never been a fan of emerald-cut diamonds, but this particular stone was as stunning as any she had ever seen. Luxuries had never been a part of the life she had chosen with Arthur Weasley, nor had she ever missed them. Instead, Molly had chosen a surplus of love and the riches of family with a man who had been made for her. It appeared, however, that her only daughter was going to have both.

As her gaze traveled from the ring to the pendant, Molly couldn't help noticing the swell of her daughter's breasts. When exactly, she wondered, had her precocious little girl grown up to be such a stunningly beautiful woman? At last, her vision locked upon Ginny's remarkably bright brown eyes, framed by her blazing red hair. Ginny's look of contentment, mingled with pride, told Molly everything she needed to know about her daughter's decision. She also saw that Harry had been right. This jewelry looked as if it had been custom designed for Ginevra Weasley.

"Oh, Ginny, I'm so happy for you – happy for both of you."

"No concerns about being too young, or having another year to go in school?" asked Ginny.

"No, dear. You're only a year or so younger than your father and I were when we got engaged."

Molly could tell that Ginny had expected almost any answer but the one she had been given. A soft smile spread across her daughter's face while her eyes welled with tears. It was too much for Molly to bear, as the flood of mixed emotions she had been carrying crashed down upon her. She pulled Ginny fiercely to her chest and allowed her own tears to flow.

Moments later she looked at Harry, who had walked quietly away from the bed. The uncertainty in his eyes showed clearly that he was feeling like an intruder upon an intensely private moment.

"I'll let you have some time alone together," he said softly, his voice registering barely more than a whisper.

"Thank you," replied Molly. "There's a memorial service planned for 4:30 this afternoon by Professor Dumbledore's tomb. I'm not sure who will be buried here, but we've decided to take Fred back to the Burrow. I hope you'll come home with us tonight, Harry."

"Of course I will," he answered, "as long as it's okay with Ginny."

At the mention of her name, Ginny stepped away from her mother's embrace and walked over to Harry. Taking him briefly into her arms, she placed a gentle kiss upon his lips.

"Where else would I possibly want you to be?" she asked with a smile.

"Then I'll go tell Professor McGonagall that I'll be coming back to Hogwarts. Should I say anything about housing?"

"Tell her you want the flat. I have no intention of sneaking around in broom closets or sharing a bedroom with Hermione!"

"Brilliant!" said Harry before heading toward the door. "I'll see you at 4:30."

"What was that all about?" Molly asked with a glance toward her daughter.

"Let's talk about that at home tonight, when Dad's around, if you don't mind," answered Ginny. "I think you had something else on your mind."

"Yes, dear, I did."

*****

Harry and Professor McGonagall arrived only moments before the service began. Most of the survivors had remained at the school, so the crowd was substantial. Nevertheless, Harry had no trouble locating Hermione and the Weasley family. Eight distinctive heads of hair, ranging from ginger to auburn to Ginny's blazing red, were easily found on the right hand side of the crowd. Hermione's bushy brown hair had been tied back in a ponytail, and she was wrapped protectively under Ron's right arm. As the ceremony began, Harry crept quietly along the side of the congregation and slipped into the empty seat next to Ginny. He took her small soft hand into his own and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"I love you, Ginny," he whispered softly against her ear. She responded by snuggling against him and resting her head against his shoulder.

Andromeda Tonks had decided to have her daughter and Remus Lupin buried on the grounds of the ancient school. Surprisingly, so had the parents of Muggle-Born Colin Creevy. They and his brother, Dennis, had decided that Colin had been happiest in the Wizarding World, making Hogwarts the logical choice for his final resting place.

The word "final" seemed quite out of place for a 16-year-old wizard, but Colin was far from the youngest person ever murdered by Tom Marvolo Riddle. Only the perfect spring weather kept the proceedings from becoming unbearably depressing. Even in victory, the price of war seemed almost intolerable.

At last, the crowd began to disburse slowly as friends lingered to comfort and console one another before returning home by their preferred means of magical travel. Harry sat quietly with Ginny, his eyes focused unmoving upon the ground. At last, Ginny broke the silence.

"Well, what did Professor McGonagall have to say?"

"That she was very pleased that I'd accepted her offer," he replied, looking up as a slight grin began making its way across his face.

"And?" she prodded.

"And, what?" he teased. No matter how heavily the deaths of his friends weighed upon him, Harry had never felt more contented in his life. Voldemort was dead, the prophecy had been fulfilled and, most importantly, Ginny Weasley had agreed to marry him. Better still, he didn't feel guilty about it in the least. Amidst the pain and sorrow, Harry's recovery had begun.

"You know exactly what," Ginny replied.

"I do?"

"Yes, you daft boy! What did Professor McGonagall say about our living situation?"

"Oh, that …" he began before pausing momentarily. "She said we would be surprised by how many faculty members are married, and that she was sure we'd be quite comfortable either here in the castle, or anywhere else we might choose to live."

"Anywhere else?"

"Yes, anywhere else. She's willing to waive the residency requirement if we prefer to live elsewhere, especially since you'll be able to Apparate legally before start of term."

"It would hardly seem like Hogwarts if we lived somewhere else, don't you think? And we'll want to play Quidditch, won't we? I know I will," she said, a small grin creeping across her face.

"Yes, I feel the same way, and Hogwarts has always felt more like home than anywhere else," answered Harry. "Professor McGonagall showed me a couple of the unoccupied flats this afternoon, and I can show them to you this evening. But first I need to tell you everything - what I've been up to with Ron and Hermione, the memories I got from Snape last night, and exactly what happened in the Forbidden Forest."

"Tonight?"

"I need the Pensieve in McGonagall's office, and I really think it's best to get this done right away. You need to know everything that's happened if you're planning on spending the rest of your life with me."

"The rest of my life…" whispered Ginny. "That sounds perfect."

With that said, Harry and Ginny stood to face her family and Hermione.

"Harry," said Arthur, "Molly says you and Ginny have reached a big decision."

"Yes, sir, we have," he answered, pulling her gently to his side.

"Right, then," Arthur continued. "Perhaps we can have a word when we get home tonight."

"Of course, sir," Harry replied, a wave of discomfort washing over him. He had expected Ginny's mum to be the resistant parent, not soft-spoken Arthur.

"We can talk later tonight, but first I have to go over some things with Ginny here at Hogwarts – in Professor McGonagall's office."

"Very well," Arthur responded, "as long as you two aren't out too late. Everyone's a bit knackered, you know." Harry was certain that the look in his eyes revealed a concern about more than just exhaustion.

"Yes sir," answered Harry.

"Right, then," said Mr. Weasley as the rest of his surviving children and Hermione began edging closer toward the newly engaged couple.

Unable to restrain herself any longer, Hermione threw her arms around Harry's neck, nearly knocking over Ginny in the process.

"Oh, Harry, I've already told Ginny how excited I am. This is wonderful news."

"Right, mate," interjected Ron. "It really is wonderful. And by the way, I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I guess I'm still a bit of a git from time to time."

"It's alright," said Harry, smiling. "No telling how long I would have stammered around like an idiot, trying to find a way to tell Ginny how I felt about her. You just kind of sped things along …" he continued while pulling Ron close enough to whisper "even if you were a bloody wanker about it!"

The rest of the family began talking simultaneously until Hermione's voice cut through the din.

"Harry! Look! It's Rita Skeeter!"

He looked up to see the reporter approaching rapidly, her acid green Quick-Quotes Quill bobbing along beside her.

"I'm sorry everyone, but could we meet you back at the Burrow in a few hours?"

"Of course, dear. Take your time," answered Molly as she threw a knowing look in her husband's direction.

"Ginny, could you please take my arm?" Harry asked.

As soon as she had done so, Harry turned on the spot and the couple Disapparated with a pop. The last thing Harry saw before the darkness descended upon them was an astonished Rita Skeeter with one hand raised in greeting.