Chapter 5 - Four of a Kind
May 12, 1998
Despite all the people Harry had lost in his life, funerals were a strange, foreign thing to him. Grief had always been something private, a silent rage inside, not a public display of tears and farewells. He couldn't even remember if there had been a funeral for his parents. Sirius's death had left him burning with fury, Dumbledore's had left him numb, and Moody's—well, he'd barely had time to think at all. Those had all been isolated moments of sadness and anger—moments confined to singular losses.
But this—this was different. The week ahead loomed before him now, vast and terrible, like some horrible black storm. And Harry wasn't sure how he was meant to navigate it. And yet he knew he had to.
Because for all his grief, for all his pain, he was still alive. He'd died and been given the choice to return. That thought weighed on him as he prepared for the first of the funerals he was to attend.
Colin Creevey's funeral was the first one he'd attended since Dumbledore's. Harry wanted—more than anything—to show up for every funeral of the more-than fifty brave witches and wizards that had lost their lives in the battle. But there were not enough hours in the day nor days in the week for him to possibly arrange that.
"Gin, you alright?" he asked gently after they had Apparated back to the Burrow. He hadn't known Colin like she had. It seemed that Ginny was friendly with almost everyone at Hogwarts.
"No," she whispered, choking back a sob. "It's not fair. Colin—he…this absolute shit was all he ever got to experience from our world!" She wheeled around angrily, tears streaking down her face. "First Voldemort's stupid diary—and he never once held it against me or even joked about it! He was my friend. And now…"
Harry could feel the charge in the air around them as Ginny's anger sent her magic spiking wildly. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her.
"He loved magic, he loved it so damn much," she sobbed. "And all he got from it was pain."
"I don't…I don't think that's entirely true," Harry said softly, stroking her hair. She pulled back and glared at him in defiance. "I don't think he would have stayed and fought if all it gave him was pain. I think—I think all those photos he was taking are proof. He thought it was amazing. He loved it."
"That makes it worse, Harry!" Ginny shouted. "That he'll never get to…"
She collapsed back into him and sobbed again. Harry didn't say a word, only nodded mutely. For a fleeting moment, he tried to imagine what he would need to hear if their places were swapped—if it were him unraveling like this, and wondered just what he could say and how he could help her. Until he remembered that the roles had been reversed. Just days ago, it had been Ginny holding him together when he thought he might shatter.
So, he did the only thing that made sense: he followed her lead. Because she was so much better than him at these sorts of things. Always had been. He said nothing; He didn't offer words that felt too small, too thin, for what she was feeling. Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and held her to him, just to let her know that he was there. That they were both there, and that he wasn't going anywhere.
Ginny had joined Harry, Ron, and Hermione up in Ron's attic room after dinner. She enjoyed the closeness and the familiarity of the situation; the two of them cuddled together on his camp bed, as close as propriety—and her brother—would allow while Ron and Hermione towed the line between bickering and flirting.
She'd been hesitant at first. It felt almost like an intrusion. She had only just gotten Harry to open up to her; and she to him. She had the sense that this thing between them was both incredibly profound yet incredibly fragile at the same time.
No. That wasn't quite right. The thing between them, their relationship—though the term didn't sound at all meaningful enough—was strong. Stronger than either of them. And that was the problem. She knew that it would be easy to lose herself to it, block everything else out and just be "Ginny and Harry" rather than Ginny and Harry. It was impossibly tempting.
But she stopped herself. She couldn't be that way, not with everything still waiting in front of them. Funerals, rebuilding—hell, maybe even testifying to the Ministry. There was so much still ahead of them, and all she wanted to do was find a way to fall back into the easy place they'd been after that first kiss in the Gryffindor Common Room. In her daydreams, that's where things were, except the war had miraculously ended without violence—she even let her musings finally get Ron and Hermione together. It would have happened last summer, of course, sometime after or during Bill's wedding.
"What do you reckon they're going to do about Quidditch?" Ron asked, shaking her from her musings. She turned to her brother. His head lay on Hermione's lap while she flipped absently through one of the books she'd saved. Witches in History: Forgotten Heroines of the Magical World was certainly a choice for reading, but Ginny was quite certain Hermione was never going to be a "forgotten" heroine. Not after what she'd done by the age of eighteen.
"Can't believe you're thinking about Quidditch after all this," Hermione scolded lightly. She flipped a page and then went back to absently running her fingers through Ron's hair.
Ron's eyes fluttered closed at the soft touch, and Ginny smiled. It was still wild to see them like that, so unconsciously comfortable with one another. Though she supposed they must have felt the same way when she and Harry had gotten together.
"I haven't gotten to play Quidditch in over a year," Ron pointed out. "Haven't even been on a broomstick, really."
"You flew on a broomstick just last week in the Room of Requirement," Harry pointed out.
"Saving Malfoy from his own bloody stupidity doesn't count," Ron muttered under his breath.
Ginny couldn't help but agree. She glanced at Hermione, expecting a sharp retort, but instead saw her shoot Ron a disapproving frown—though notably, she didn't argue the point.
"The pitch was destroyed," Ginny said. The words tasted bitter in her mouth. "But I can't imagine Hogwarts without it."
"There is a lot to do for rebuilding," Hermione said. She placed a bookmark and closed her book, then reached over to Ron's nightstand where a copy of the morning's Daily Prophet sat. She flipped a few pages in and handed the paper over to Ginny and Harry.
Rebuilding Hogwarts: A New Era Begins
By Barnabas Cuffe, Editor-in-Chief
In the wake of the Battle of Hogwarts, the esteemed school of witchcraft and wizardry is beginning the monumental task of rebuilding. The grounds, which once rang with the chaos of combat, now stand as a solemn reminder of the courage displayed by students, staff, and allies alike.
Professor Minerva McGonagall, who has taken on the mantle of Headmistress in the aftermath of the battle, has pledged that the school will rise from the ashes stronger than ever. "The spirit of Hogwarts will never be broken," she said in a statement issued yesterday. "We will rebuild not only our walls, but the very heart of our community. The sacrifices made here will not be forgotten, and we will ensure that Hogwarts continues to be a place of learning, safety, and unity."
Reconstruction efforts have already begun, with teams of skilled wizards and witches working tirelessly to repair the damage to the castle and surrounding areas. Much of the damage was caused by the brutal bombardment during the battle, but thanks to the quick thinking of both magical and non-magical healers, the majority of Hogwarts' students and staff have begun their recovery.
While the physical rebuilding will take time, many are focused on healing the emotional scars left behind by Voldemort's reign. It is clear that Hogwarts' journey toward recovery will not be a quick one, but the school's resilience—and the unity of its people—will no doubt guide it through the difficult days ahead. As the rubble of war fades, a new era of hope and peace begins to take shape within the walls of the castle.
Ginny gave it a quick readthrough and then handed it back. The memories of the battle were still too vivid, and she didn't want to dwell on it for too long.
"Well what's the point of Hogwarts without Quidditch?" Ron muttered. Hermione scoffed and flicked his ear. "Hey!"
"I'm betting Professor McGonagall fixes the Quidditch pitch sooner rather than later," Harry muttered thoughtfully.
"With everything else that was damaged?" Hermione asked. She raised her eyebrows skeptically. "The Astronomy Tower, the Entrance Hall, the Courtyards, the Common Rooms…" She shook her head. "I know I don't love Quidditch the way you all do, but you have to admit Professor McGonagall probably has higher priorities."
"This is the same woman who bought me a Nimbus 2000 before my first ever match," Harry pointed out.
Hermione nodded reluctantly, but let the matter end.
"Merlin, I wish the brooms had made it," Ron muttered. Harry muttered something under his breath. "Bloody hell, that's right—your Firebolt fell when we were leaving your Aunt and Uncle's place. I wonder what happened to it."
"With my luck? Landed in some sort of aggressive magical hedge and got torn to pieces," Harry grumbled.
Ron chuckled, "Or some old bat is using it to sweep her front steps."
Ginny groaned. "I miss that broom," she muttered longingly. The thought of a Firebolt being used like that was physically painful.
Harry nudged her with his shoulder and grinned. "Really, Gin? I didn't realize my broomstick was so…unforgettable."
Her heart pounded in her chest; in that moment he was suddenly the funny, snarky, teasing Harry that she'd fallen for. The one she could banter with for hours on end trying to make him blush. Ginny smirked, arms crossing as she threw Harry a pointed look. "Don't flatter yourself, Potter. I'm talking about the Firebolt, not you."
Hermione, trying but failing quite miserably to hide a smirk, raised an eyebrow and said dryly, "You might want to watch your phrasing, Ginny. The last thing we need is Ron having a meltdown because you're talking about riding Harry's broomstick."
Ron nearly choked on his own breath, face going beet-red. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, Hermione!"
Harry flushed, though he tried to cover it with an awkward laugh. But Ginny was unbothered. She'd heard enough of those jokes from her dormmates after they'd gotten together to desensitize her well enough despite the fact that their physical relationship hadn't progressed nearly that far.
She leaned closer to Ron, her voice dripping with false innocence. "Honestly, Ron. What else am I supposed to do with it? A broomstick is for riding."
Ron groaned, throwing a pillow in her direction. "Stop! Stop! That's it. I don't need these images. Girls, out. I need to have a talk with my best mate about what's appropriate to joke about around me."
"Careful, Ron," Ginny teased, ducking the pillow with a laugh. "You're starting to sound like Percy."
Hermione couldn't suppress a snicker as Ron scrambled to his feet in defeat. "I'm surrounded by lunatics," he muttered. He pointed to his door, "Out. Both of you."
Harry shook his head, cheeks still faintly pink, and shot Ginny a sideways glance as she grabbed her things and climbed off the camp bed. "You really don't make things easy for me, do you?"
Ginny grinned mischievously, leaning over him and planting a searing kiss that left Ron retching dramatically. "On the contrary, Potter. I'm much more interested in making them hard for you."
Harry groaned and dropped back to the bed. Hermione rolled her eyes as she picked up her book and followed Ginny out of Ron's room. "You two are incorrigible."
"You mean you've never thought about my brother's broomstick?" Ginny teased.
Hermione went bright red, and there was some cursing from Ron as he slammed the door behind them. Harry's laughter rang out and joined with hers, even over Ron's sputtering objections. Ginny's heart felt ten times lighter at the ease of it. And despite the cursing from her brother and Hermione's pink-tinged cheeks, she knew they felt it, too.
"Merlin, I needed that," Ginny said, wiping the tears out of her eyes. "I did not realize how much fun it would be for me." She threw her arm around Hermione's shoulders and led the way down the stairs toward their shared bedroom. "If I did I'd have pushed you two together ages ago."
"I don't think that would have worked," Hermione said, her voice low as they passed the door to her parents' room.
Ginny shrugged, "Details, details. Now, we were talking about you and my brother's broomstick."
"Ginny," Hermione hissed sharply. Glancing over her shoulder at Mum and Dad's door. "Please remember that one of us is a guest living in her boyfriend's house."
"Oh please," Ginny waved her off. "The only reason you and Harry haven't been granted 'favorite child' status officially is because you're dating us and that would make it weird."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, that's what everyone always tells us."
"It's true," Ginny said pointedly. "Oh, don't worry. You'll get to see Ron squirm when you bring him to your parents."
She noticed an immediate change in Hermione's posture. She seemed to shrink into herself.
"Oh, are you—are you really that nervous about it?" Ginny asked. She'd never really met the Grangers outside of a trip to Diagon Alley, but how bad could they honestly be? A defensive thought struck her, "Do you think they won't approve?"
"Oh. No. It's—it's just…complicated at the moment," Hermione said softly.
"Oh," Ginny offered lamely. "Sure. Yeah." She wasn't going to press; Hermione would open up when she was ready. "Do—do Ron and Harry know?" she asked, hesitant.
Hermione nodded, and Ginny exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Good. Well, don't let those prats forget that you've been in this too. Make sure they know when it's your turn, yeah?"
Hermione spun around and pulled Ginny into a tight hug. When she pulled away, she quickly wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "I don't think enough people give you and your family the credit you all deserve," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "You're—you're all amazing."
Ginny returned the hug, squeezing her tightly. "You sure you're not just talking about my brother's broomstick?" she teased.
Hermione swatted her arm. "You are incorrigible."
Ginny slowed as they approached the landing outside George's room. She stared at the shut door. George had hardly left his room since they arrived back at the Burrow; most of the time Mum had been bringing him food directly to the room.
Hermione noticed the shift and glanced at Ginny. "You okay?"
Ginny hesitated for a moment before giving a small nod. "Yeah, I think...I just—" She steeled herself. "I'll be fine, Hermione," Ginny said quietly, offering a brief smile. "You go on ahead. I'll be down in a minute."
Hermione nodded, giving Ginny a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before heading down the steps to Ginny's room. Ginny stood still in front of George's door for a moment, her heart aching. The whiplash between joy and sorrow felt painful.
The light shining from beneath the door indicated that George was still awake, but Ginny hesitated to intrude. Fred was her brother, too, but she couldn't deny the bond the twins had shared. Always together, always causing trouble, always finishing the other's sentences and thoughts.
She thought back to the moment when she'd seen Harry in Hagrid's arms and remembered the agony ripping through her chest. She'd had the moment of relief when Harry reappeared; George hadn't. He just had the pain.
She pushed the door open and her breath caught at the sight of George on his bed, staring down at a pile of old joke products. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across his face. There was a stillness about him that made her throat tighten.
"George?" she asked softly, her voice barely a whisper, unsure whether to intrude or just offer him the space he needed.
Her presence seemed to reach him more than anything else. Without looking up, George sighed deeply, his shoulders slumping even further.
"I'm fine, Ginny," he mumbled.
Ginny stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and took a seat next to him. "I've heard that enough times from Harry to know when that's not true," she said, trying for levity.
George sighed again, nodding in defeat. "I'm not…fine," he admitted. "I feel like…like I'm only half here."
Ginny nodded, knowing there was nothing she could say to help ease that pain.
"I keep…waiting for someone to finish what I'm trying to say," he said. His hands gripped his legs tightly. "For someone to say what I'm thinking without me even having to ask." She wrapped her arms around him and tried to hold back her tears for his sake. "I…I keep getting letters," he motioned to a pile of unopened letters on the floor.
"From Lee, from Angie, 'Licia, Katie. Oliver, too. But I—I can't even open them." He collapsed into himself. "They always used to be addressed to us both. 'To: Fred and George'—we didn't have secrets from each other. We—we shared everything. And now…
"Fred knew me better than I knew myself," George muttered. "Everything I have in my life…everything I am, it's because of him."
Ginny swallowed hard, trying to imagine that kind of loneliness on top of what she was already feeling.
Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. She felt the tight, crushing weight of grief in her chest as memories of Fred flooded her mind. They weren't just memories of Fred—they were memories of Fred and George. The two of them as a pair, inseparable. Playing Beater for Gryffindor. Testing Skiving Snackboxes on unsuspecting First Years. Their unforgettable escape from Hogwarts in a blaze of fireworks.
What could she possibly say? There were no words that could comfort George when she couldn't even comfort herself. So instead, she simply clung to her brother, burying her face in his shoulder, and cried with him. They held each other, letting their grief spill out, unspoken but shared.
Nearly half an hour later, their sobs had quieted, replaced by the heavy silence of exhaustion. George finally pulled back and managed a small, tired smile. "You should get some sleep, Ginny," he said hoarsely.
"You too," she replied softly, her voice thick. He hugged her tightly—a solid, grounding embrace that reassured her that George was still there, even if he wasn't sure himself. She gave him a teary goodnight and slipped from his room.
When she returned to her own, she found Hermione still awake, sitting on the bed with a book open in her lap. But it was clear she hadn't been reading. Her face was streaked with tears, and she gave Ginny a small, watery smile.
Ginny could only manage a tight nod in return before climbing into bed. Hermione set her book aside and extinguished the lights, leaving the room in darkness. Ginny clutched her pillow tightly, her tears spilling over once again. She pressed her face into the pillow, muffling her sobs as best she could, trying not to disturb Hermione—but knowing, deep down, that her grief couldn't be hidden.
May 13, 1998
It was the following day, after they'd returned from Lavender Brown's funeral, that Harry and Ginny finally found a quiet moment with Ron and Hermione. For days now, the four of them had been caught in their own orbits; interacting, talking briefly, but keeping largely to themselves.
The rest of the Weasleys, perhaps too lost in the whirlwind of their own burdens, hadn't pressed them. Or maybe they'd simply understood—allowed the space to mourn in their own ways. Harry knew that would change eventually, but for the moment he allowed this small flicker of light to push back against their grief.
The four of them sat together in the garden, tucked away behind a tall hedge where the sounds of the bustling household faded into the background. The evening air was cool, smelling of damp earth and wildflowers. A single lantern floated above them, its soft glow illuminating their tired faces as they sat in silence.
"So, eh…tomorrow, yeah?" Ron muttered awkwardly, his eyes fixed on the floor. After a moment, he glanced up and met Harry's gaze.
Harry swallowed hard and nodded. Tomorrow. Tonks and Remus's funerals.
What went unsaid, however, was that the next day would be Fred's. It seemed like all of the Weasleys—outside of the planning—were doing everything they could to busy themselves and not let themselves dwell on it.
"I imagine Mrs. Tonks will be there with…with Teddy," Hermione said.
"That's what Dad was saying," Ron said. "I imagine the whole Order will be there…what's left of us, anyway."
"The Ministry, too. Certainly the Aurors," Ginny added. "Tonks was…everyone loved her."
"We'll probably see a lot of students and staff from Hogwarts as well," Hermione said. "Professor Lupin…despite how his time as a professor ended, was well-liked by most everyone."
"After the Chamber I was so scared to come back to school. Especially when the dementors came on the train," Ginny admitted. She toyed nervously with a loose thread on her shirt sleeve. "He helped me feel like I had control again. Like I wasn't a victim of what had happened."
"He taught me how to cast a Patronus as a Third Year," Harry said. He shook his head, fighting back tears. "Not enough people give him credit for that."
"He was the best Defense teacher we've ever had by quite a margin," Hermione agreed. A pained smile lit her face. "Present company excluded."
"Yeah," said Ron. "Wait—what?" Harry was equally confused.
Ginny nudged Harry in the ribs. "Face it, Potter, after Remus you were the best Defense Professor Hogwarts had while we were there."
Harry frowned and shook his head. "I think that's a stretch to even consider me in the group." Even so. It was nice to be talking about anything else.
"Professor Moody was pretty good, too," said Ron. "We learned a whole load of things from him."
"Disguised Death Eaters don't count," said Harry.
The air went out of the conversation and Harry fought the urge to kick himself. The mention of Death Eaters had brought reality crashing back.
"Do we know where it's…going to be?" Ginny asked.
"Godric's Hollow," Harry whispered. The other three shot him curious looks. Biting his lip, he continued, "Profes—Remus mentioned it to me after Sirius died." Another stab of grief shot through him, but it was older and he'd grown more used to it. "He didn't have…many people he was close to after that. He and Tonks weren't yet—"
He shook his head. "Anyway, he didn't have many close friends still alive. He still felt Sirius and my dad were his best friends, so he wanted—if something happened—to be buried beside my parents in Godric's Hollow."
Hermione shot him a pained look. "Harry…"
"It's okay. I'm okay," he said with a watery smile. He took a deep breath, "I think…I can finally let that story end. It seems…right."
"And Tonks…?"
"She would've wanted to be with Remus," Ginny said. She sniffed. "She was mad for him—knew how important those few friends he had were to him. She was always telling me how lucky she was that she had him. How she couldn't believe someone with such a good and selfless heart would notice her. How she didn't deserve him."
"And Remus felt the same about her," Harry said with a wistful smile.
"They were both mental," Ron choked back a sob.
"And brilliant," Harry said.
"Tonks never treated me like a child," Ginny said. She rubbed her arms against the chilly air and leaned against him. "Everyone else around us was trying to keep the war from us, keep us safe. But she…"
"She knew it would come for us anyway. She was young, too. Knew what that was like," Hermione said with a sad smile. "I always admired that about her. She'd gone straight into the Ministry after Hogwarts. As an Auror no less. No pure-blood favoritism either. She'd made it all on her own merit." Hermione looked pained. "She showed me that was possible."
"She'd always wanted siblings," Ginny said hoarsely. "She told me she envied us. She loved getting to be around us even though things were bad."
"She was bloody fun. Would've been a great older sister," Ron said. He gave Ginny a wry look. "She'd have been the new favorite, Ginny. You wouldn't stand a chance."
"Would be worth it," Ginny said. "It was nice having her to talk to. Everyone else would've given me grief. She just listened. Let me vent." She sighed heavily. "And during all that time at Grimmauld Place, she taught me all sorts of tricks—hexes, how to dodge spells, how to look after myself. She made me feel strong, she believed in me. Even when I bloody well didn't."
"Do you think Mrs. Tonks was alright with the arrangement?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded. "Her family disowned her when she married Ted. Blasted her right off the Family tapestry," he said, wondering if that was where Sirius had gleaned the inspiration. "I don't think she would've stood in the way."
Ginny gripped his hand in hers. Across from them, Hermione leaned into Ron. He was still amazed sometimes at how close the two of them were. He'd always known it was a possibility, of course, assuming that neither of them killed the other, but seeing it first hand was something very different.
There was a long silence, and Harry could feel the inextricable pull of the conversation moving to the next funeral. And he knew none of them were ready for that quite yet.
"I'm going to meet Teddy tomorrow," he said softly.
"That's right, mate, you've got a godson," Ron goggled. "Bloody mental, isn't it?" Hermione smacked him on the arm. "What? I'm just saying. He's a bit young to have a godson, no?"
"Sirius wasn't all that older than I am now when my parents made him my godfather," Harry pointed out.
He'd been struggling with that notion ever since surviving the battle. The idea that he would soon be older than his parents ever got the chance to be still gnawed at him.
"You're not seriously considering taking care of a child, Harry," Hermione said nervously.
Harry shook his head. "No. I just—I don't—I wouldn't know—No. I just want to meet him," Harry said. "I want the chance to be there for him the way Sirius wanted to be there for me when I was growing up."
"I think that's beautiful," Ginny said.
"Have you thought about Kingsley's offer yet?" Ron asked.
"Thought about it? Yeah. But…" Harry shrugged.
"I talked with Neville at…err…earlier today," Ron said, still dancing around the word "funeral." He gave Harry a pointed look. "He reckons he's going to take the offer."
"Really?" Harry asked.
"He said Rodolphus Lestrange is still loose," Ron answered. "Got away after the battle."
Harry nodded grimly. There were a lot of Death Eaters and followers of Voldemort still at large. It made him sick to his stomach to think about. This feeling that there was still so much to do after the war ended.
"I'm going to finish Hogwarts," Hermione said.
Harry smiled and Ron rolled his eyes. "Someone call the Prophet," Harry said with a laugh. He felt Ginny giggle against him.
"I'm not that predictable," Hermione objected sharply, folding her arms.
"You're consistent," Ginny amended with a smirk. It did little to ease the pinch between Hermione's brows.
"Consistently brilliant," Ron chimed in, grinning. Hermione's face softened, and with a fond smile, she pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.
"Aww," Harry and Ginny teased in unison.
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, just fuck off," Ron muttered, his ears burning red, but even he couldn't entirely hide the grin that tugged at his lips.
"Language, Ron," Hermione said sharply, swatting his arm with a disapproving glare.
"I was defending you!" Ron exclaimed, throwing his arms up in frustration. Harry grinned widely. It was great to see that some things never changed, and he was glad to see his two best friends so happy together despite how hard everything else was. It was a relief he hadn't realized he needed.
"You'd think that now we're dating, she'd cut me some slack!" Ron grumbled, though the corners of his mouth betrayed a small, grudging smile.
"I could've told you that wasn't going to happen, Ronald," Ginny quipped, her grin mischievous. She leaned back, clearly enjoying his frustration.
"No one asked you, Ginerva," Ron drawled mockingly. "We'll see how cheery you are when Hermione's got your entire year's worth of revision timetables planned out before the first week's even over."
"It's our N.E.W.T. year," Hermione said pointedly, as though that explained everything.
Ron threw up his hands and gestured toward her, as if to say case in point, but Ginny only responded by sticking out her tongue at him.
"Nice to see that the two of you haven't changed either," Hermione said dryly, but there was a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
Harry had to admit, there was something comforting about seeing the youngest Weasleys up to their usual antics.
"How about you, Ron?" Harry asked. "Given any thought to Kingsley's offer?"
Ron's expression shifted, his shoulders tensing as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Err…no, mate. Haven't really had the head for it yet. What with…everything, you know?"
His voice trailed off, and Harry gave a small nod of understanding.
"I've been doing everything I can not to think about…Fred's…" Ron's voice faltered. He sucked in a shaky breath and finally whispered, "funeral."
Harry's heart clenched in his chest. "Whatever you need…" he began, his voice low and steady. He glanced at Hermione for support, then back to Ron and Ginny. "We're here for you. Just say the word."
Ron tightened his grip on Hermione's hand and gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. Ginny buried her face in Harry's shoulder, her breath coming in uneven sighs as she fought to keep her composure.
"I never really got to say goodbye to Sirius," Harry murmured, his gaze distant. "I just… lost it after he died. Trashed Dumbledore's whole office."
Ron managed a faint, fleeting smile. "Can you imagine, Ginny? Mum would go mental if we did something like that."
Ginny lifted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, sad smile. "I keep thinking… Fred would be so disappointed if he saw us moping like this," she said quietly. "He wouldn't want us sitting here whispering."
Ron gave a reluctant chuckle. "He'd want something loud and messy."
"With an obnoxious number of explosions," Ginny added, her smile growing.
Hermione, ever practical, tilted her head. "Borderline illegal, no doubt."
Ron let out a genuine laugh, the kind Harry hadn't heard in days. "Definitely illegal."
"On a broom," Ginny finished, her eyes lighting up. For the first time in what felt like forever, a real laugh bubbled out of her—a laugh that Fred would've loved.
Harry watched them for a moment, something warm stirring in his chest. An idea struck him, sharp and sudden. He leaned down, kissed Ginny lightly on the cheek, and sprang to his feet.
"Be right back," he said, already dashing towards the Burrow, a grin spreading across his face.
Ginny watched Harry rush back into the house and turned to her brother with a raised eyebrow. But Ron just shrugged helplessly.
"Maybe he's cracked," Ron said. Hermione swatted his arm again and he rolled his eyes. "I'm joking. Stop smacking me."
Ginny shook her head, a smirk tugging at her lips as she watched Ron rub his arm. "Honestly, Ron, you'd think you'd learn by now."
"Learn what?" Ron grumbled. "That Hermione's got a mean right hook?"
Hermione sniffed, brushing invisible dust off her sleeve. "Perhaps to think before speaking."
Ron rolled his eyes, but Ginny noticed the faint tug of a smile on his lips. Before she could comment, Hermione turned toward the Burrow, her brow furrowing in thought.
"I'll go check on Harry," she said abruptly, as if only just deciding. "Make sure he hasn't, I don't know, tried to blow up the shed in some fit of inspiration."
Ron gave a short laugh. "In all honesty that's probably a perfectly reasonable way to honor Fred."
Ginny snorted softly at Ron's antics. "Well you're not entirely wrong," she said, though her brow remained furrowed as she gazed after Harry.
Hermione offered a small smile but didn't reply. She disappeared into the house, leaving Ginny and Ron alone.
"He's up to something," Ginny murmured, her voice laced with equal parts curiosity and concern.
"Of course he is," Ron replied, shaking his head. "It's Harry. He doesn't exactly do 'nothing' well, does he?"
Ginny glanced at her brother, her teasing smile fading. "Don't we all know it?" For a moment, neither of them spoke. The faint hum of the late afternoon, the chirping of distant birds, and the rustle of leaves filled the silence. Ginny finally broke it, her voice softer now. "Do you ever think about it, Ron? How long we've been involved in all…this?"
Ron gave her a sidelong glance, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he sighed. "It's not fair, is it? None of it. Being that young and…and having to go through all of this," he said. "We've been wrapped up in Voldemort stuff since we were first years."
Ginny shrugged, though the motion was half-hearted. "I don't think any of us really got to be young, Ron. Not with everything that's happened."
"No I guess you're right," he muttered. He glanced up at the darkening sky. "Still, it was comforting in a way."
"Comforting, really?" Ginny's jaw tightened and she narrowed her gaze at her prat of a brother.
"Yeah," Ron shrugged. "I mean if eleven-year-old Ron and Ginny could survive and foil Voldemort's plans then I always figured seventeen-year-old us had a decent shot of it."
Ginny let out a mirthless laugh, her gaze fixed on a cluster of daisies near her feet. "It's strange, isn't it? How fast it all happened. One day, it's school and Quidditch and homework, and the next…" Her voice trailed off, but Ron understood.
"And the next, it's war," he finished quietly. He shifted, plucking at the grass. "But you handled it, Ginny. Better than I ever did."
Ginny gave a short laugh. "You're kidding, right? You, Harry, and Hermione out there on the run, saving the world, destroying dark artifacts, while I was stuck at Hogwarts."
Ron shook his head. "That wasn't nothing, Ginny. You don't know how much it meant to Harry, knowing you were still fighting. Even if he doesn't say it, he noticed."
Ginny's jaw tightened, and she looked away, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "I don't even know if I want to go back," Ginny whispered, almost as if saying it aloud might make it more real. "The thought of walking those halls again…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "It's not just the memories, Ron. It's—" Her voice broke, and she bit her lip hard. "It's everything."
Ron shifted uncomfortably, clearly at a loss for words. "I can't imagine what it was like," he said finally, his voice low. "I mean, I heard the stories, but hearing and living it…"
"It was awful," Ginny said simply, her voice raw. "And I'm terrified that if I go back, it'll all come rushing back and I won't be able to get away or shake it off."
Ron swallowed thickly. "You don't have to go back," he said firmly. "Not if you don't want to. You'll be of age."
Ginny shook her head. "No, I do. I need to finish. For myself. To prove that I can and that it's not…Voldemort's school anymore. But that doesn't make it any easier."
"And being in Hermione's classes certainly won't help. You're in for it now," Ron muttered.
Ginny shifted slightly, her arms crossing over her chest as she looked toward the Burrow's front door, where Hermione had disappeared moments ago. "You know," she began, her voice quieter now, "Hermione hasn't really talked much about her parents. Hasn't even sent a letter or let them know everything was settled."
Ron fidgeted with a stray thread on his jumper. "She hasn't told you, has she?"
"Told me what?" Ginny turned to him, concern knitting her brow. "What's going on?"
Ron sighed, glancing around as if to make sure they were truly alone. He lowered his voice. "Before we left, to go looking for the Horcruxes, she…wiped their memories. Made them think they didn't have a daughter. Sent them to Australia."
Ginny's eyes widened. "She what?"
"She didn't have a choice," Ron said quickly, his voice defensive. "It was the only way to keep them safe. Voldemort would've used them against her—against us—if he'd had the chance."
Ginny's brow furrowed as she processed this. "So they're just…out there, somewhere, and they don't even know she exists?"
Ron nodded grimly. "Yeah. And she hasn't told anyone else. Not Mum, not Dad. I don't think she's even told Kingsley yet. Just me and Harry."
"That's…Merlin, that's awful," Ginny breathed. She couldn't imagine being as steady as Hermione had been for them—for Ron—since the battle ended if her entire family was just…missing.
"Once all this settles, I'm going with her to find them." Ron said, his tone firm. "To set things right. I…I owe her that much, after what I did."
Ginny's expression softened, and she reached out to squeeze his hand. "Ron, you didn't—"
"I did, Ginny," Ron interrupted, his voice low and heavy with guilt. "I left her. Left both of them. I shouldn't have, but I did. And she forgave me. She always does, doesn't she? But I'm not going to let her do this by herself. Not this time."
Ginny made to object but Ron interrupted her. "And I know Harry. He'll probably volunteer to come with me and Hermione when we go to find her parents. But he doesn't have to, and he shouldn't."
Ginny raised an eyebrow, her teasing tone breaking through the seriousness. "Oh, I see how it is. You just want some uninterrupted time with Hermione. A romantic getaway to Australia, no parental supervision."
Ron flushed, his ears turning red. "Yeah, that's exactly it. Nothing more romantic than tracking down long-lost parents with some complicated memory charm to undo."
Ginny studied him for a moment before nodding. "She's lucky to have you, you know."
Ron gave her a small, self-deprecating smile. "Yeah, well, I'll remind her of that next time she's smacking me for something stupid."
"Stop doing stupid things then."
Ron snorted. "I'll get right on that."
Ginny laughed lightly, but her face turned serious again as Ron leaned closer, his expression serious. "Look, Gin, I need you to keep an eye on Harry if he's not coming with us, alright?"
Ginny's brows furrowed. "Ron—"
"I mean it," Ron said, his voice taking on an edge of urgency. "He's… he's not telling us everything. I know he's not."
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, her tone sharp with worry.
Ron hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "Ever since that curse… the one Voldemort hit him with. He's been hiding something. Even sharing a room, I haven't seen him without a shirt once. And I know Harry—shared a dorm with him since we were eleven—he's not exactly shy about stuff like that."
Ginny frowned, her concern deepening. "You think he's hurt worse than he's letting on?"
"I do," Ron said.
Ginny's face tightened, but she forced herself to stay calm. "He's always been like that, Ron. Keeping things to himself, thinking he has to deal with everything alone."
"That's why I need you. Why he needs you," Ron pressed. "You've got a way of getting through to him. You've always been good at that." He grinned. "It would drive Hermione mental, before all this. She'd needle and prod him and he'd just clam up. But I dunno—he's different with you."
Ginny felt her heart swell with his words. "Ron, I—"
"He's my best friend," Ron said, cutting her off. "And he's had shit luck in his life with people looking out for him, so I'm bloody protective of him."
"Oh, and you're not protective of me?" Ginny raised an eyebrow. She had a vivid recollection of their row after he'd caught her and Dean snogging. Merlin, how she wished she could scrub that from her brain.
"I've known you your whole bloody life, Ginny. You've been able to look out for yourself longer than I have," he shot back. "You've got brothers and parents and more friends than I think any of us realized. Harry has me and Hermione. So yeah, I'm going to worry about him."
He carded a hand through his hair. "You're the only person I—we—trust with him," Ron said. "Because I think you get it. You see him as Harry and not Harry Potter."
Ginny smiled faintly, her gaze softening. "The three of you have been looking out for each other for years. All those times you faced You-Kn—Voldemort; those ridiculous adventures—trolls, giant spiders, the Chamber of Secrets…"
Ron rubbed at his jaw. "Yeah, but it hasn't really been just the three of us for a while. Not since you and Harry got together. Maybe even before all that," he said, his voice quiet. He gave Ginny an unusually fond look. "Even when it was just the three of us out there looking for Horcruxes, Harry was still keeping an eye on you with the Marauder's Map. You were with him the whole time, in a way."
Ginny blinked, caught off guard by the thought. For a moment she considered telling Ron what Harry had confided in her about; how she'd been the last thing he pictured when Voldemort cursed him. But the urge left her quickly; there was something intensely intimate about that. Something that he'd shared with her and no one else. "I never…I didn't know that."
Ron shrugged. "He's always been like that about you. And now…now I think he's still trying to keep it all on his shoulders. But you're good for him, Ginny. He needs you."
Ginny's smile grew and her chest tightened at her brother's words. "Well, he's not going to get away with keeping secrets from me for long."
"That's the spirit," Ron said, grinning despite himself. "Just don't let him brood his way out of it."
Ginny chuckled, her worry easing just a little. "He won't. Trust me."
The room was quiet except for the muffled creaks of the Burrow settling for the night and Ron's steady breathing. Harry lay on the camp bed, his arms folded behind his head, counting the minutes until it felt late enough to move without causing suspicion. He didn't know what was worse—the anticipation or the way his stomach kept twisting in awkward knots.
Ron finally broke the silence. "This is bloody weird, isn't it?"
Harry snorted softly. "Yeah, a little."
"I mean," Ron went on, his voice low, "we've faced Death Eaters, giant spiders, and—you know—actual death. But sneaking around my parents' house feels more terrifying."
Harry laughed under his breath, relief breaking through the tension. "You'd think after everything else, this would be easy."
"Easy? Mate, you're sneaking down to spend the night with my sister." Ron shifted, turning his head toward Harry with a disbelieving expression on his face. "And I'm encouraging it."
"Yeah," Harry admitted with a hopeless chuckle. "But it's not like we're—" He stopped himself, his face heating. "It's not what it looks like. I just—we both sleep better this way."
"I don't know whether to be hurt or disgusted." Ron let out a dry laugh and waved him off. "Just don't let Mum catch us either way." They both were quiet before Ron sighed. "Look, just—be good to her, alright? I mean it."
Harry nodded, though Ron probably couldn't see it in the dimly lit room. "I promise."
"Hey, what was it that you ran off to do earlier?" Ron asked.
Harry shook his head, hiding a smile. "Nothing yet."
They both fell quiet again, the weight of the moment stretching between them. Ron shifted, rustling the blankets as he rolled onto his side. Harry stayed put, staring at the door and willing his nerves to calm. Finally, with a deep breath and a glance back at Ron's now still form, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and quietly headed for the door.
"Night, Ron."
"Night."
Harry descended the steps, wand in hand. He cast a quick silencing charm on his feet and avoided what he'd found were the creakiest floorboards, stepping gingerly over them. He reached Ginny's room and pushed the door open with a soft knock.
Hermione rose from her camp bed, her cheeks red. She whispered a quick goodnight to him and Ginny, and headed up the stairs to Ron's attic room. Harry closed the door behind her as quietly as he could. Ginny was tucked under the quilt, her characteristic smirk curling her lips. The look she gave him set his heart racing in his chest.
"Hey, you," she said softly, scooting over to make room for him on the small bed.
"Hey, yourself," he said.
"Took you long enough," she teased, propping herself up on one elbow. "What, did you and Ron get lost in a heartfelt discussion about Chudley Cannons strategies?"
Harry rolled his eyes and tried not to grin as he set his glasses on the bedside table. "Something like that," he muttered. He kicked off his socks and slid under the covers beside her.
Ginny poked his side, and he flinched away instinctively. "You'd better not keep me waiting next time. I might start thinking you've got cold feet."
He turned onto his side, facing her. His hand found her hip and his thumb traced the waist of her pajama bottoms. "Cold feet? You're the one who kept kicking me with those little ice-cubes of yours."
Ginny gasped in mock offense, shoving his shoulder lightly. "I don't kick!"
"You kick," Harry said, his voice softening as he caught her hand mid-shove. He kept hold of it, his thumb brushing her knuckles as their eyes met. Her smirk melted into something softer, her freckles glowing in the pale light.
"Maybe I was just trying to get closer," she said, her voice teasing but with an edge of honesty that made his chest tighten.
"How much closer?" Harry murmured, eyebrows wriggling. This was so much more like what they'd had the year before at Hogwarts. The teases, the flirting that led to snogging in alcoves or broom cupboards.
Ginny raised an eyebrow, her expression turning playful again. "Oh, I could show you."
He barely had time to smirk before she leaned in, closing the gap between them. The kiss was warm, familiar, but still electric, as if every time they touched was the first.
Ginny shifted closer, her hand sliding up to his neck, tangling in his hair. The teasing, the banter—all of it fell away, replaced by the quiet hum of them, together. Harry's hand found her waist. He pulled her against him, deepening the kiss.
Ginny's fingers curled tighter in Harry's hair, sending shivers down his spine. He shifted, torn between trying to hide his arousal and not giving a damn. Her touch was unhurried but certain, her hands sliding from his hair to his shoulders, tracing the faint lines of old scars as though memorizing them.
Harry's hand lingered at her waist, the fabric of her nightshirt soft under his fingertips. His heart pounded in his chest as he tentatively trailed his fingers under the hem of her shirt and brushed his thumb over her hip. She jumped.
"Ticklish," she whispered, breaking the kiss just enough to tease him.
"I remember," he murmured back, grinning as he pressed his forehead against hers.
Ginny didn't let him dwell long; her lips found his again, her hands steady as they moved to cup his face, grounding him. The world beyond the bed faded into nothing—no worries, no expectations, just the warmth and sweetness of her.
His hand ventured up, skimming her back as he drew her closer, feeling the way she melted into him. There was something intoxicating about her confidence; the way she held him as though they had all the time in the world. It was thrilling and terrifying all at once. The intensity of it made his breath hitch as she kissed him again, deeper this time.
"Harry," she whispered, her voice softer now, like a secret meant only for him.
"Yeah?" he managed, his voice heavy.
Ginny smiled against his lips, her laughter warm and quiet. "Nothing. Just like saying your name."
Harry's heart pounded in his chest. He pulled her closer before finding her lips again. Harry froze as Ginny's hands slipped under his shirt, her touch warm against his skin. Her touch sent shivers racing through him. She moved slowly, deliberately, working her fingers up his chest, but the moment her fingers brushed the edge of the bruise across his chest, he flinched back.
"Ginny, wait," he said, pulling away slightly. His heart pounded and everything was suddenly all too real and uncertain again. "It's—it's not exactly…pretty."
Ginny's gaze was soft, her voice unwavering. "Harry, I don't care about 'pretty.' I care about you." She didn't let him retreat, her hands still resting lightly against his sides. "You don't have to hide anything from me. Together, right?"
Harry searched her face, looking for a trace of doubt, but that blazing look in her eyes gave him courage. Slowly—reluctantly—he sat up and let his hand fall away, giving her the space to push his shirt up. He moved to help her, wincing slightly as he eased the fabric over his head and tossed it aside.
Ginny's breath caught as her eyes fell on the dark, mottled bruise. It was healing, but slowly. The center was still a deep, angry purple that faded into shades of sick yellow and green along the edges. Her fingers hovered just above his skin, not touching, as though afraid to hurt him.
"Does it still hurt?" she asked quietly.
Harry huffed a faint laugh, though it lacked humor. "It doesn't feel great."
She reached out again, her touch firmer this time but still careful as her fingers ghosted over his collarbone and down to the edge of the bruise. Harry flinched but didn't pull away.
"Does this hurt?" she asked, her fingers brushing lightly along the edge of the bruise.
"Only a bit," he said.
"This?" she asked, leaning forward and placing a tender kiss at the center of the bruise.
His breath hitched. "Not…really," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. The feather-light touch of her lips on his chest made it hard to form words.
Her hands didn't falter, her touch deliberate, as though she was tracing the battle he'd fought and won and etching it into her memory. "You shouldn't have to carry all of this alone," she said, her voice thick.
"I'm used to it," Harry muttered, but Ginny shook her head.
"Well, get un-used to it, Potter," she said. She straddled his waist, her hands sliding to cup his face and her eyes locking onto his. "Because I'm here, Harry. For all of it. For you."
He couldn't find the words to reply, his throat was too tight. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers, and let out a shaky breath. She deserved words, to let her know just how much she meant to him with no doubt or room for interpretation. But something held him back; the part of him that could form words had never put those specific ones together
Ginny pulled back and sat up, a playful glint in her darkening eyes. "My turn," she said with a smirk, tugging at the hem of her shirt.
Harry blinked. "What?" This was suddenly further than they'd ever pushed the physical part of their relationship during those short few weeks they'd been together.
"It's only fair," she teased, her grin widening as she pulled her shirt off in one smooth motion. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, and she laughed softly at Harry's wide-eyed expression.
"You don't play fair," he muttered, though there was no heat in his words, just awe.
"Never have," Ginny quipped, leaning closer.
Harry let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. His heart pounded thunderously in his chest. He raised a hand and traced the line of her shoulder, down along her collarbone, over the curve of her breast, and back down to her side. Her face flushed but her eyes never strayed from him.
He pulled her back to him, skin-to-skin, and his lips found hers again. His fingers ran over her back, feather touches along her spine. Hers raced over him and he shivered as her nails scraped his skin. For the first time that day, the heaviness of grief lifted a little.
Next Time: Chapter 6 — Mischief Managed
AN: I'm going to be shifting to Friday posting dates for the rest of this story. Just an easier bit of scheduling. Once we get past Chapter 7 I'll be moving to a bi-weekly release schedule, at least for a little bit.
Writing George was tricky—in my head I always imagined that he had a harder time with Fred's death than anyone other than his parents, but they had each other to lean on. George had to re-learn how to live his life without his literal other half.
Let me know your thoughts on the balance between grief and compassion here. It's tough keeping that kind of emotional interplay even. Grief can sneak up on you in the most unexpected places, but can also vanish when you're not actively thinking about it. These first chapters—the first month after the battle—is all about the dynamics of grief and joy, guilt and relief.
I'm very excited to get to the next two chapters. There are scenes there that I've wanted to put in writing since I first read the Harry Potter series.
So what do you think? What did Harry race off to do? Will he and Ron return to Hogwarts with Hermione and Ginny, or will they join the Aurors?