Three days. Three days since Voldemort had been defeated. Three days since Hogwarts had been engulfed in a devastating battle. Three days since Harry had walked into the forbidden forest, knowing he was walking to his death. Now, three days later, Harry stood at the border of that very forest, peering in with narrowed eyes.
He held his wand aloft, always alert but relaxed for the time being. There hadn't been any activity in the forest that day, but after a year of looking over his shoulder, or rather a lifetime, Harry was always ready for the unexpected. The sounds of nature surrounded him, interrupted only by the distant echoes of shifting rock up at the castle behind him.
Since the war many of the participants, adults and students alike, had been returning to the castle during the day to help in the restoration efforts. The first day they had moved the bodies of those who perished in the battle, beginning funeral preparations.
The Ministry had taken it upon themselves to inform the families of those who had passed. Meanwhile, those who remained at the castle were working together, using magic to move rubble and restore the seemingly endless damage that had been done.
It was the second day of this effort when Aragog's brood began to show themselves, emerging from the forest to take advantage of the lack of magical barriers surrounding the school. Harry and some of the Aurors who had been enlisted to protect those rebuilding managed to push the spiders back to the forest. Shortly after, many who had been helping rebuild were reassigned to restoring the protective barriers around the school.
Now, on the third day, while half of those up at the castle finished reinstating the protective spells and the others continued to rebuild, Harry stood guard at the edge of the forbidden forest, ready for the Acromantula to appear, ready to repel them. This suited him just fine. It allowed him to avoid the questions and the stares he received whenever he was in a crowd. It hadn't been so bad around the castle because those who were there had fought in the war, had their own demons to wrestle with, but Harry still found it difficult to be around large crowds.
He looked at their haunted faces, knew they mirrored his own, and knew he had failed them. Tonks, Lupin, Fred. Their blood was on his hands. As he peered into the forest Harry couldn't help but think, if I had come earlier, if I hadn't hesitated, they could all still be here.
It had been hardest with the Weasleys. Ever since he'd seen them huddled together over Fred's unmoving figure, his last laugh still etched into his face, Harry had been avoiding them. He couldn't stay away from Ron, but when they talked Harry found it difficult to meet his best friend's eyes with his own.
After the war Molly had invited him to stay with them at the Burrow, but Harry had elected to stay at the castle, citing the restoration efforts as his excuse. No one had protested. Bill had given him a tight smile, Arthur a reassuring pat on the back, and Molly had encased him in a warm, motherly hug which shot fresh pangs of guilt coursing through him. Ron had assured Harry that he would be coming back during the days to help rebuild the school, but Harry was just relieved to see that he was leaving with his family.
Then there was Ginny. Just thinking about her made his heart leap uncomfortably. She had been wrapped protectively under her mother's arm, but detached herself to hug Harry. They held each other tightly, and Harry found himself overwhelmed by her scent as he pressed his face into the top of her head. All too soon they pulled away from each other, Ginny returning to her mothers side to join her family as they headed back to the Burrow.
Like the rest of her family, Harry couldn't look Ginny in the eyes. She hadn't returned to the school with her brother the next day, and Harry found he was relieved. The ball of guilt that had settled in his stomach was making it more obvious by the day that the hope he had held on to was gone. There was no returning to the relationship he'd left behind, that was never going to be reality again. Too much had changed, and Harry wasn't sure he'd even be able to hold a normal conversation with Ginny, let alone begin to apologize for the loss she and her family had faced.
Hermione had been the greatest source of comfort for Harry in the time following the war. When she looked at him it wasn't with pity, but with understanding. She had elected to stay at the castle as well, and while she claimed it was to help with rebuilding, Harry could tell she had wanted to make sure he wasn't alone. It meant a great deal to him. Now, as he stood watch at the edge of the forest, Ron and Hermione helped with repairs up at the castle.
"We'll come down to the forest with you mate," Ron had said easily.
"No, you guys stay here. They need as much help as they can get. Besides…" Harry looked between Ron and Hermione, a knowing look on his face. "You guys should enjoy some time alone while you can."
A blush and a sheepish smile both crept onto Ron's face, and Harry grinned back, the first real smile he had managed in days. He was glad his friends had finally confronted their feelings for each other, and was even more glad that he wouldn't be subjected to their jealous bickering anymore. Or at least, he hoped there would be less.
"Be careful, Harry" Hermione said sternly, still clearly uncertain if they should be letting him guard the forest on his own.
"When am I ever not careful, Hermione" Harry said, which didn't seem to ease her worries.
"Remember, red sparks at the first sign of trouble" she called after him, as he began to make his way down to the forest. "And come check in with us soon, or I'm coming out to get you!" He waved a hand dismissively behind him, but secretly felt grateful and a little pleased that Hermione was so worried for him. Sometimes it felt like she was the only one he didn't feel guilty around.
The only indication to Harry that the day was passing was the position of the sun, slowly sinking over the horizon of the black lake. He worried at first that spending time alone would allow him to dwell on his guilt, that it would force horrific images of the war into his mind's eye, but the constant vigilance he needed to keep watch over the forest kept him present.
It must have been near evening when Harry looked back towards the castle, finding a lone figure walking towards him. He thought at first that it must be Hermione, coming to relieve him of his post, or to let him know that the barriers had been restored and he no longer needed to keep watch over the forest. As the figure got closer, however, he saw that it was someone much larger than Hermione, and much more unexpected.
"Kingsley?" There weren't too many people Harry would have been surprised to see at the castle, but the newly instated Minister of Magic was certainly one of them. "What are you doing here?"
"Harry!" Kingsley smiled warmly, reaching out a hand for Harry to shake as he approached. His grip was firm and steady, his hands large where Harry's were slender.
"I ran into Ms. Granger and Mr. Weasley up at the castle and they told me I would be able to find you down here." Harry was surprised, not sure why Kingsley would be looking for him. After all, the war was over. The thing that had made Harry important to the wizarding world at large had ended. Voldemort was dead.
"I thought we might discuss some things, Harry. Would you care to join me up at the castle? I've gotten permission for the two of us to use the Headmaster's office." Harry was caught off guard. Clearly Kingsley was anticipating a long conversation. Harry looked up at the castle wearily.
"If it's all the same to you, I think I'd prefer to just talk here."
If Kingsley found this off-putting he didn't let it show.
"No problem at all Harry. I expect everyone feels more comfortable having you here to keep an eye on things." His tone was warm and friendly. A silence lapsed that made Harry uneasy, and he felt the need to break it.
"I'm surprised you have time to get away like this, I figured you'd be bogged down in work right now." He took in Kingsley's appearance and found the telltale signs of overworking. Bags under bloodshot eyes, an uncharacteristic slump in his posture. It was clear Kingsley had been worked to the bone over the past few days.
"Even the Minister of Magic can make time to meet with the hero of Hogwarts, Harry." Harry could tell that he meant it to be a compliment, but still winced at the nickname. Kingsley seemed to pick up on Harry's discomfort. When he spoke again it was with a degree of urgency.
"Honestly Harry, whether you feel like a hero or not is besides the point. The fact of the matter is, that's how the wizarding world sees you. And there's a lot of good you could do with that."
A sinking feeling began to form in Harry's stomach as he realized with a sickening recognition how familiar this conversation seemed to one he had almost a year prior with the previous Minister of Magic.
"What kind of good were you thinking of, Kingsley." Harry did his best to keep his voice even. He must have done well, because Kingsley pressed on.
"Following the defeat of You Know Who, the death eaters who remained at the Ministry went into hiding. In the time since, we've been doing our best to restore order at the Ministry. We've taken on a huge host of new hires, a record number for the Ministry in fact. Meanwhile public perception has never been so low. However, if you could come in, do some work with us, it could bolster confidence that we've gotten things back on track."
"I've faced a fair few hardships myself at the hand of the Ministry" Harry warned, glancing at the white scar etched into his right hand. Kingsley nodded gravely.
"More than a few. I just want to assure you Harry that we are doing our best to make a very different Ministry than the one you've known." Harry wasn't so sure he believed that was possible. He had seen a few iterations of the Ministry already, and he found they all managed to remain unpalatable in one way or another.
"What's happened to Stan Shunpike?" If the Ministry really was changing as Kingsley claimed, Harry needed some assurances. Kingsley smiled.
"Released immediately, and his criminal record has been wiped clean." Good. It seemed Kingsley was better than his predecessor in at least some regard.
"And Umbridge?" Kingsley's smile remained, but it turned grim.
"Dolores is awaiting trial, though I expect she will be in Azkaban before too long."
"If you need anyone to testify…" Harry's face let Kingsley know he was serious. He would go to great lengths to make sure Umbridge went away for a long, long time. Kingsley nodded.
"I'll keep that in mind, thank you Harry." Harry nodded slowly, but still, he had no desire to become what Rufus Scrimgeour had tried to make him, a puppet to boost morale.
"Listen, no offense Kingsley but I kind of figured the end of Voldemort would be the end of my involvement in any of this." Kingsley smiled uneasily, but his look was sympathetic.
"I understand your hesitance Harry, and we all know how much you've sacrificed. Probably more than any other-"
"You're wrong!" Harry felt his face become hot and his temper spiked. "People sacrificed their lives!"
Kingsley glanced warily at the dark thickets of the forest that lay behind Harry. "Did you not do the same?"
"I'm still here" Harry spat back, hardly surprised when he heard the disdain laced within those words. There was little he wouldn't do to trade places with those who lost their lives in the fight against Voldemort. Still, he knew that dwelling on it was a disservice to those who had given their lives so the rest of them could experience a world not ruled by fear and uncertainty.
"The truth is, people are scared, Harry. They don't know what to think or who to trust. First Fudge's incompetence was exposed to the public, Scrimgeour was killed, and the ministry was infiltrated by Death Eaters. The witches and wizards of Britain are looking for some sign that things are going back to the way they were, and you can give it to them. All they know is that you defeated He Who Must Not Be Named. You put an end to this war. You are a symbol of hope in an uncertain time, Harry."
"I'm not a symbol of anything, and it took a lot more than me to win this war." Fatigue began setting in. Harry could feel the conversation sapping his energy and all he wanted was for Kingsley to go, to be alone.
The frustration that Kingsley had evidently been suppressing began to show itself as he pressed closer. "This isn't about what is easy, or what we want. This is about letting people know that they are safe now. That he's gone."
Kingsley seemed to realize he was coming dangerously close to harassing someone whose help he desperately desired. He stood up straight, clearing his throat and donning the same warm smile he had when he first approached Harry.
"Just think about the proposition, please. Of course you need some time. I will be back at the castle soon to meet with Professor McGonagall about proceedings for opening the school next year. We can speak again then." It wasn't a question. Harry nodded.
"As you please, Minister." There was no venom in his voice, but it was clear the title was not a complement. After a handshake that was much more tense than the first, Kingsley turned to walk back the way he came. Harry watched his figure retreat, the sun by now having entirely sunk beneath the horizon. He felt frustrated, resentful, but above all he was exhausted. He pushed his glasses up to rub his eyes, turning his attention back to the forest.
It was less than an hour later that two more figures approached Harry from the direction of the castle, and he was relieved to see Ron and Hermione's familiar outlines.
"You were supposed to check in with us, Harry." Hermione's voice was stern, but her expression betrayed her relief.
"Nice chat with the new minister?" Ron asked, looking bemused. They seemed to pick something up from the way Harry's expression dropped.
"That bad, hey mate?"
"What did he want, Harry?" Hermione spoke with concern. Harry exhaled, resigning himself to retelling the tense and uncomfortable conversation he had with Kingsley. By the time he finished, Ron looked indignant on Harry's behalf, and Harry felt a sudden surge of gratitude for his best friend. Hermione, on the other hand, simply looked unsurprised.
"Naturally the Ministry wants to be seen as aligned with Harry. There's complete disarray. The only thing any one is sure of right now is that Harry is a hero." She said it as if it were simply the truth, but Harry felt an uncomfortable blush creep onto his face.
"You'd think saving the bloody world would entitle the man to a break though, wouldn't you?" Ron argued, waving emphatically. Harry's blush grew.
"Of course I think he deserves to be left alone, Ron, but that's not the point. It's going to be a long time before people start letting Harry be. I mean, at this point he's got to be the most famous-"
"Guys!" Harry had to interject before his face grew completely red. "Could you stop talking about it like I single handedly took down Voldemort and his entire bloody army? You both did just as much as I did, not to mention everyone else who fought, who gave their lives…" Harry found his throat had begun to feel very tight, and was grateful when Ron interjected.
"Hey, no one's saying we aren't heroes too" Ron said, cracking a smile. "Everyone knows I was the brains of the operation, and Hermione's the only reason we weren't killed about a dozen times over. You're just the pretty face the world wants to see. Err, not that you aren't very pretty as well, Hermione." He glanced nervously over at his girlfriend who was pursing her lips, but Harry could see the hint of a smile threatening to break through. She muttered something that sounded awfully like "moron," but it was too quiet to be sure.
"Anyways Harry, the simple fact of the matter is, people aren't going to leave you alone anytime soon."
"Thanks Hermione, that makes me feel loads better." She rolled her eyes impatiently.
"The point is, you're going to have to start drawing the boundaries yourself. If you don't want to work with the ministry, and I really don't think they have any right to ask more of you-"
"Agreed," Ron interjected.
"-then you just have to tell Kingsley you aren't interested. It wouldn't be the first time you've gone against a Minister of Magic."
"Nor the second," Ron said, amused.
"Right," Harry said, feeling much more sure of himself than he had just moments ago. Once again he found himself eternally grateful that these two were a part of his life. With his relief came the exhaustion that he hadn't been allowing himself to feel.
Harry could feel his shoulders weighing him down, and images of the Burrow flashed through his mind; the warmth from the fireplace, the scent of Mrs. Weasley's cooking wafting in from the kitchen, and the many fiery headed family members bustling around the house. And Ginny.
A deadly cocktail of longing and guilt was swirling up inside of Harry, twisting and pulling at his conscience. As he, Ron, and Hermione walked the path back up to the castle, he wondered if he would ever have what it took to face that family whom he cared so much about and give them the apology that he knew he owed them, but which he also knew could never be enough.
Harry sought his bed, which at the moment was a quilt and pillow tucked into a corner of the mostly repaired great hall. Professor McGonagall had given Hermione her former office to sleep in, and the two of them parted ways. Ron was heading back to the Burrow via floo powder.
Sleep found Harry the moment his head hit the pillow, and the nightmares shortly followed. Each of the last three nights Harry's dreams forced him to return to the war. Each time he watched people he cared for die, knowing he could have prevented it. Tonight was particularly harrowing, as he watched Ginny struck down by a death eater, powerless to stop it as he was paralyzed under his invisibility cloak. It didn't matter if it wasn't real, Harry's conscience was launching an attack on him.
The next few days passed by with relatively little of note happening. Harry continued to stand guard at the edge of the forest. This continued until one day Hermione came down not to tell him he was done for the day, but to let him know that the protective barriers around Hogwarts had been completely repaired.
Harry knew this should be a relief to him, but he felt a sense of aimlessness wash over him as he realized the one job that had been keeping him grounded was now no longer necessary. He joined Ron and Hermione working on the repairs at the castles, but even those were progressing at a remarkable pace.
It was on Saturday, May 16th, a full two weeks after the war had finished, that the inevitable finally happened. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were sitting together in the now entirely refurbished Great Hall. They were all tired, but there was a mood of general contentment. They tucked into their well earned dinner, glad to have the day's work behind them.
"I swear," Ron said between bites of a plump and succulent sausage, "If Flitwick gets us to rearrange his class one more time, I'm going to make his desk so big his feet can't touch the ground."
Hermione looked scandalized. "You're just angry he was complimenting my levitating charm while we tidied up."
Ron paused, swallowing thickly, before replying. "Hermione, if I disliked every Professor who thought you were brilliant, I'd have to exile myself from the school." Hermione opened her mouth to respond but then closed it, looking rather pleased with herself. She reached over to squeeze Ron's hand, looking at him meaningfully. Ron seemed to grow uncomfortable, sending shifty glances to his side where Harry was idly twirling a potato wedge on his fork.
"So," Ron started, clearing his throat. Harry's eyes flicked towards him. "Mom's making a big Sunday roast tomorrow." He said it casually, but the tapping of his foot revealed his nerves. Harry stopped twirling his fork.
"Yeah?" He knew what this was, and he had been dreading it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione give Ron an encouraging nod.
"Yeah," Ron pressed on. "And she asked- well made me promise actually, to get you to come. Everybody wants to see you, Harry." Everybody. Everybody. Harry wondered what that meant. Did Molly and Arthur want to see him, when he had robbed them of a son? Did George, whose closest confidant, whose other half, he had gotten killed? Did Ginny? A lump formed in Harry's throat as he thought about facing any one of them.
"Bill and Fleur are coming even, and Percy's been staying there. It's hilarious, he keeps following mum around, acting like a little helper. I think it's his way of making up for being such a prat all this time." Ron chuckled. "Anyway, it's going to be absolute chaos. You'll come, yeah?" Harry gave a noncommittal shrug, not trusting himself to speak as the lump in his throat seemed to expand.
"I'm going," Hermione finally said, and Harry's eyes flicked to hers. Her expression was hard, almost defiant. "I think you should too."
"It's not that easy," Harry finally found his voice, though it came out more strained than he would have liked.
"Nothing easier," Ron replied, waving a hand dismissively. "It's not like I'm asking you to finish one of Hagrid's rock cakes," he said, shuddering.
"I just…I don't think it's a good time." Not for the first time, Harry was finding it difficult to meet their eyes. Ron exhaled heavily.
"Hermione and I have been talking-"
"There's a surprise," Harry interrupted, anger appearing so fast even he was surprised. He'd had a lifetime of people talking behind his back and he didn't appreciate his best friends doing the same. Ron pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly trying to master his own annoyance. Fortunately, Hermione had the good sense to take over.
"We've been talking, and we think you need to get out of the castle for a while." Harry looked like he was going to protest but Hermione pressed on. "I can see what it's doing to you Harry. You barely sleep. You're the first one up working and the last one to take a break. You've been avoiding everyone, even us. You're pushing yourself like the war is still happening and you really ought to give yourself a rest." Before Harry could reply, Ron jumped in.
"She's right mate. You're always already working by the time I get here and you look exhausted. Even when you aren't working you spend all of your time down by the forbidden forest." Ron's expression darkened. "Doesn't seem quite sane mate. We know you feel like you have to stay here until the work is all done, that you think it's your job, but the work is going to get done even if you aren't here the whole time." Hermione picked up where Ron left off.
"Honestly Harry, the castle is almost completely rebuilt, and the protective charms have all been restored. It's going to get finished whether you're here or not. You've done your part and much much more. It's time to take a break and start to move forward."
Harry looked from Ron to Hermione and back again, his expression completely incredulous.
"That's why you think I've been avoiding the Burrow?" They both looked back at him nonplussed.
"You think the reason I've been here everyday, why I've been staying away from everyone, is because I've, what, just wanted to keep busy?" It was true that the constant activity had been the perfect excuse to avoid facing the insurmountable guilt he held within him, but he had a much stronger reason to avoid the Weasleys and the wizarding world at large.
How many had died because of his own hesitation, how many would still be alive today if he had been willing to sacrifice himself just a few hours sooner? He couldn't imagine facing the families of those he had failed, least of all the Weasleys. They had treated Harry as a part of their family, and he had taken that love and trust and allowed the unthinkable to happen.
"What are you on about?" Ron asked, frustratingly blind to how difficult this was for Harry.
"I KILLED YOUR BROTHER!" The words echoed throughout the great hall, which because of their late dinner was mercifully empty, save for the three of them. Ron's expression turned dark and his mouth shut, his jaw clenching tight.
"Oh, Harry" Hermione looked close to tears as she seemed to realize for the first time the extent to which Harry blamed himself for the events of the battle.
It was Ron, making a strong effort to unclench his jaw and face his friend, that finally broke the silence.
"I've told you this before Harry, and this is the last time I'm going to say it. This war was about a lot more than just you. Mad-Eye didn't die for you. Tonks didn't die for you. And Fred…" he paused, holding back a look of devastating pain, "Fred didn't die for you either. They all cared about you Harry, but this war was a lot bigger than all of that. It was a lot bigger than some prophecy."
Harry felt hot tears streak down his face as he spoke. "But I could have stopped it! If I had just gone into the forest sooner-" but he couldn't continue. Harry's felt as though all of the emotions he had been fighting down, that had been bubbling away just below the surface, were now stuck in his throat, threatening to overflow.
"That's what this is about?!" Ron had pushed back and was standing now, looming over Harry. "You think you, what, didn't sacrifice yourself soon enough?!" Harry didn't know what to say, he thought Ron of all people would understand how Harry had failed him, had failed his whole family. Instead, Ron turned to Hermione.
"You're going to have to straighten him out because I'm not sticking around to listen to this rubbish. Let me know when you've put some reason in him." Ron turned and stormed out of the great hall. Harry felt stunned, not knowing what to say. He looked across to Hermione, who was regarding him with a deeply sad expression.
Hermione came around to Harry's side of the table, sitting next to him. Wordlessly, she rested a hand on his arm, leaning her head against his shoulder. They stayed that way for a while, each drawing comfort from the other. When Hermione did speak, she didn't move. Her voice vibrated against Harry's arm.
"Come to dinner tomorrow, okay Harry? We have to start moving on. It's the only way the war can really be over." Harry didn't say anything, but eventually he nodded.
Harry stood at the front porch of the Burrow, having just apparated. The house that had once held all the wonder and excitement of the magic world for Harry, the joy of family which he had never known, now left Harry feeling an impending sense of dread.
He wondered what the atmosphere would be like. Quiet, he imagined. Somber. A far cry from the bustling and hectic energy the house had once held. He had done that. He had robbed this family of the wonderful pandemonium that had once permeated their lives.
Warm lights illuminated the house and the sound of various conversations drifted from the front door. Before he could second guess himself, Harry took the final steps forward and pushed it open. He was immediately met with a wave of noise and chaos.
A crooning singer's voice warbled loudly from the radio nearby. Mr. Weasley was with his second oldest son, Charlie, whom Harry didn't even know was going to be there. Arthur was jumping back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, gesturing wildly at what appeared to be a garage door sensor, though as there were no outlets in the Weasley house the cord dangled limply to the ground. He was frowning as though surprised nothing was happening. Hermione sat on the sofa with her brows furrowed, concentrating intently on a book despite the noise around her.
"Oi! Geroff!" Ron came bounding through the living room, George chasing closely behind with a set of false teeth in his hands. The teeth seemed to be fully autonomous, chomping at the bit and straining against George's hands, seemingly intent on taking a chunk out of Ron.
"Just one bite Ronniekins, I need to know if it's too strong for the store! I doubt it will even break skin!" The two of them zoomed off.
Ginny and Bill seemed to be in an animated discussion, though Harry couldn't hear what it was about.
Harry was surprised to see that Percy was working alongside Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, but was even more surprised to see Fleur was also there, working happily with the two of them. The three of them were jumping from dish to dish, speaking animatedly to each other. It seemed that Fleur and Mrs. Weasley had overcome their differences more than Harry had realized. He found himself smiling as he realized the three of them were wearing matching aprons, though Percy's was much too small for him.
No one noticed Harry standing at the door until Ron and George had made another lap of the house. Ron entered the living room again, red in the face and panting heavily. He came to a screeching halt as he spotted his friend at the door. Unfortunately for him, George had not stopped chasing him, and a moment later he was letting out an almighty yelp.
"Hmm, seems there's still a few kinks to iron out before these devouring dentures will be ready for the general public." George stroked his chin thoughtfully, examining the teeth which were still straining towards Ron. Ron, who now had a large bite sized mark forming on his arm, turned to Harry.
"Harry's here!" He called. "told you he was coming Mum." At this, everyone seemed to stop, the chaos that had been rampant in the house subsiding instantly. Hermione looked up from her book and gave him a warm smile. Mrs. Weasley poked her head in from the kitchen, beaming. George stopped observing his latest invention, turning his attention to Harry instead, but Harry couldn't look back at him, knowing he would see Fred's face.
Instead, it was Ginny that Harry focused on. She had paused her conversation with Bill, and was looking at him, but Harry couldn't read anything in her expression. His eyes locked with her's, and he wanted nothing more than to drag her away so he could speak with her privately.
Her hair was slightly shorter than when Harry had last seen her, reaching just below her shoulder blades. She wore a simple blouse and jeans that hugged her tightly, and Harry was in awe of how she could wear the most mundane of outfits and still leave him absolutely speechless.
He felt an incredible urge to kiss her, but an equally strong pull to turn and run, to never see her face again, with all the pain he had caused etched into it. Instead he stood there and stared, feeling more than anything else a strong disbelief at how she managed to remain the most beautiful person he had ever seen, no matter the situation. The sudden silence seemed to last a lifetime, and it was Mr. Weasley that finally stepped in and saved Harry.
"Harry! Excellent timing. Charlie and I were just trying to work out the use of this muggle contraption. It's called, as I understand it, a 'motion dispenser,' but it doesn't seem to be dispensing anything at all."
"Err, that's 'motion sensor' Mr. Weasley."
Harry felt a wave of relief wash over him as the chaos of the house resumed. Noise erupted once more from the kitchen. George seemed to want a second opinion on the teeth, because he sped off after Charlie, who had moved to the edge of the room, eyeing his brother suspiciously, and was now at a full sprint trying to avoid the deadly new Wizarding Wheezes product.
Ron settled onto the couch beside Hermione, wrapping an arm around her as she settled into his side, her attention still very much on her book. Ginny turned back to Bill as Harry followed Mr. Weasley, explaining that the sensor needed both electricity, and something to open. Harry had expected awkward tension and mourning silence. Instead he had been met with the signature Weasley family chaos, which was more magical to him than any spell he could think of.
Harry was taken from room to room, getting a chance to spend time with each of the Weasley's at one point or another, though he and Ginny both seemed to be avoiding each other strategically.
By the time they all sat down to eat, the mood was nothing but jovial. Harry sat down, wedged between Charlie and Ron and across from Mrs. Weasley and Percy. Ginny sat at the other end of the table next to Hermione and Mr. Weasley, with Bill and Fleur across from them. George sat at one head of the table, the gnawing dentures thankfully out of sight.
Everyone talked, but Harry just listened, using Mrs. Weasley's delicious cooking as an excuse to remain silent. He ate ravenously, and had to admit he had not been getting his fill at Hogwarts. This was because of his own insistence not to take breaks, not the cooking of the house elves which remained spectacular despite the circumstances. It was the member of the Weasley family whom Harry knew the least that eventually sent him a question.
"By the way Harry, has dad told you? Absolute chaos at the ministry," Charlie said goodnaturedly, nodding in Harry's direction.
"Dad didn't have to," Ron jumped in, "Minister of Magic visited Harry personally at the castle." This caught everyone's attention, periphery conversations dying off.
"Did he really?" asked Mr. Weasley. "What did Kingsley want with you Harry." Again, Ron spoke for him.
"Wanted Harry to make the Ministry look good, didn't he? Said Harry should come in to let the public know they're doing a bang up job."
"Ridiculous," interjected Mrs. Weasley. "Hasn't the boy done enough?" Harry felt a surge of gratitude towards Mrs. Weasley, as well as a fresh wave of guilt that it was him at the table, enjoying her motherly protectiveness, and not her son.
"What did you say, Harry?" Arthur asked, leaning in intently.
"I didn't really," Harry responded, finally speaking for himself. "Kingsley said I could think about it, said he'd be back to talk again soon."
"Well it's entirely your choice if you want to go, Harry," Arthur said, sounding thoroughly unconvincing.
"Maybe you should go," said George, "would be a good excuse to try out these new extra strong dungbombs I've been working on." Mrs. Weasley reached over to whack his arm, but the rest of the table laughed. "Besides," he continued between his mum's thumps, "maybe you'll find out the ministry has been good all along, just like Snape."
There was the sound of cutlery hitting a plate, and Harry was surprised to see Ginny excusing herself from the table, disappearing quickly up the stairs.
"Don't mind her," Bill said apologetically. "She hasn't been getting much sleep." Harry found this to be an inadequate explanation, but he figured if it was something she wanted him to know about, she would tell him. That is, if they were even still on talking terms.
The rest of the dinner they jumped from topic to topic, never falling into silence. Internally, Harry was still fighting to feel as though he belonged there with them, to feel that he deserved it.
Harry remained in the living room, watching the embers in the fire as they dimmed, exuding their last puffs of heat. One by one, everyone had filtered out of the dining room, heading off to their respective rooms, until it was just Harry, Ron, and Hermione. They too went off to bed eventually, leaving Harry as the last remaining on the ground floor.
He knew he was going to have to go up to bed soon. Mrs. Weasley had set up a mattress for Harry in Ron's room, and had done the same for Hermione in Ginny's. He sighed, pushing himself up off the couch. As Harry ascended the stairs, he heard faint noises drifting out of Fred and George's room. He stopped to listen, straining his ears against the creaking of the house.
With a start, he realized that George was crying. His heart sank. Of course. He should have known. George more than anyone else had seemed his old self. He had the same spark of humour, the same glint of mischief in his eye. Harry should have known he was forcing it for the others. Fred and George had always known exactly when people needed a shot of humour, and recently it had seemed more impossible, and more necessary, than ever before.
It seemed George had taken it upon himself to ensure that despite everything, despite the insurmountable devastation that wracked through them all, the glimmer of joy never disappeared. Clearly it was taking more of a toll than ever without Fred to help share the load. Harry felt his heart ache as he remembered that even in the worst times of his life, Fred and George had managed to provide some levity.
He moved back down the stairs, not wanting to intrude on a time that George would prefer to be private. Unfortunately, this meant he ran into Ginny just as she was stepping out of her room. Harry had a fleeting moment in which he considered hurling himself over the bannister to the floor below, but then Ginny turned. They stood there for a moment, considering each other, their eyes locked on to one another.
"Hi Harry." The sound of her voice washed over Harry. It was sweet, like a spoonful of honey in the evening's tea. He swallowed, suddenly very nervous.
"Hi Ginny." She leaned back against her door, her posture relaxed but her arms crossed over her chest.
"You probably don't want to go up to Ron's room right now."
"Why not?" Harry asked, confused.
"Hermione hasn't come to bed yet." Harry's confusion remained for a brief moment, and then it clicked.
"Oh…"
"Yeah." Harry wasn't sure why, but he could swear there was the faintest hint of a smile tugging at Ginny's lips. But now he was looking at her lips and he couldn't think of much at all. They looked soft and pillowy, even as Ginny absentmindedly bit down on her bottom lip.
"Well that's…um…"
"Gross?" Ginny supplied as Harry searched for a word. She was definitely smirking now.
"No! It's just…you know…"
"Disturbing? Sickening to imagine? Horrific?" Ginny was grinning now, enjoying the way that Harry squirmed as he tried to defend his best friends without admitting that Ginny was more or less right.
"No! No! It's…good for them, I guess?" Harry finally said, lamely. Ginny was giggling now, covering her mouth so as not to wake the house, her eyes sparkling. Harry grinned in spite of himself. He couldn't help it, Ginny's laugh was infectious.
"So do you want to…" Ginny gestured to the door behind her.
"If you don't mind," Harry said back.
"Considering the alternative," Ginny shuddered, as though walking in on Ron and Hermione mid-snog was too terrible even to think about. "I'm just off to brush my teeth, you head in."
Ginny shifted past Harry and headed to the washroom, and as she did he felt the heat radiating from her body. She was wearing pyjama shorts and an oversized shirt that covered them entirely. Harry found it hard to keep his eyes off her legs as strolled past him. He shook his head, opening the door for her room and entering.
He hadn't been in since Ginny had last invited him on his seventeenth birthday, nearly a year prior. He was pleased to see not much had changed. She still had her Weird Sisters poster up, though her one of Gwenog Jones had been replaced with one depicting the entire Holyhead Harpies team.
He moved to stand by her window, resting his forehead against the glass and looking out at the grass below. Ginny's scent filled the room and he closed his eyes to take it in. It seemed like an eternity since he had been able to appreciate little things like this. He heard the door open behind him, and he turned to see Ginny enter the room. She pushed the door behind her until it clicked shut.
She shot him a glance before striding across the room, moving to sit on the edge of her bed. She leaned back, using one arm to prop herself up. With her free hand, she patted the space beside her, and Harry knew it was an invitation. He moved cautiously across the room, sitting gingerly beside her. He could feel her eyes piercing into him as he kept his attention set firmly on his knees below him.
"I'm not a gnome, you know."
"Sorry?" Harry was so taken aback he forgot where he was, lifting his head to face her. His breath hitched. She was closer than he thought. He was face to face with Ginny, locked in her gaze, her smell more overwhelming to his senses than ever.
"I'm not a gnome. I'm not going to bite you." Harry blinked, then laughed in spite of himself.
"Sorry. It's just…"
"Been awhile?"
"Yeah. Besides, I'd be more worried about getting bit by George's latest invention."
"Ugh, why'd you have to remind me of that…thing," Ginny said, grimacing. Harry's eyes flicked down to her lips, remembering the last time he had been in this room, trying very hard to remind himself that he and Ginny were not dating, that he had no right to plunge her back into this world.
He remembered Kingsley, remembered Hermione telling him that there would be others who would want more from him. He didn't want to bring Ginny back into it, not with all she had been through, not when she had just gotten out.
But it was very hard to tell himself these things when Ginny was this close, when she was giving him the same blazing look he had seen that day in the common room, the first time they had kissed. Suddenly, there was a loud thump from somewhere upstairs. Harry shifted backwards, shaking his head.
"Sounds like Ron is making a move." He didn't know what made him say it, but Ginny slapped a hand to her mouth, surprised by her own involuntary laugh. Harry scratched the back of his neck, grinning sheepishly. There was nothing quite as intoxicating as making Ginny laugh.
"Harry…" She was smiling, shifting closer to him, erasing the space he had just created between them. "Never say that again." Harry swallowed. Ginny was now very much in his space, her eyes locked on his. He saw a hunger there that he knew was showing even more prominently in his own eyes. For a moment they said nothing, and then her lips crashed into his.
Any thoughts that had been running through his head were suddenly replaced with a fathomless desire for Ginny. His hand found her waist and she pressed into him, shifting and moving her leg over his, straddling his lap.
She rose, pressing close against his chest, moving up so he had to tilt his head up towards her. Her arms snaked around his head, her hands getting tangled in the back of his hair, pulling him closer. Their lips separated, and Harry looked up at her, breathless. Her lips were already swollen and Harry realized how desperately he must have been kissing her.
"Ginny…we should probably talk-"
"Harry. Save being a gentleman for next time, okay?" Harry didn't need to respond, because Ginny was already pressing her lips back to his. His mouth parted in an attempt to catch his breath, but Ginny took it as an opportunity to slip her tongue in against his. He groaned involuntarily against her, and she hummed in response, pleased at how she was clearly affecting him.
His hands pressed hard against her waist as hers scraped down against his back. As the kiss deepened, his hands moved slowly up her waist. She groaned in frustration, having no patience for his tentativeness. She grabbed his hands with hers and pulled them up from her waist, dragging them across her ribcage until they reached her breasts. The contact of his rough hands against her soft and sensitive skin elicited a small gasp from her, and Harry squeezed harder in response.
Ginny pressed a hand against Harry's chest and pushed firmly so that he was laying on his back. Before he could wonder if he had done something wrong, She followed him, lying down flat against him. Her shirt had shifted up her waist and her back was exposed to the open. Harry traced the arch of it with his hand, in awe of how smooth her skin was. His touch made her arch even further into him.
"Ginny…" He murmured against her lips, but she wasn't listening. Her hand was trailing down, stopping when it met his belt buckled, pulling it free while her lips remained pressed firmly against his. She moved back, sitting up straight and pulling her oversized shirt up and over her head. She leaned forward to go back to kissing Harry, but he pressed a hand to her chest, keeping her up.
She looked at him quizzically, but saw that he was taking her in, his eyes raking over her body. She blushed, but held her place, letting Harry bask in how breathtakingly beautiful she was. Freckles splashed lightly across her chest, and Harry reached up, running his thumb over them. He couldn't imagine a more alluring sight if he tried.
"You're perfect, Ginny." She blushed even brighter, and Harry finally lowered his hand from her chest. She pressed back down into him, kissing him hard.
"Don't you forget it," she said, grinding into him. Soon his own shirt joined hers, and their bare chests pressed against each other. There was no telling how far they would have gone, they were losing themselves in each other, but another loud noise from upstairs stopped them in their tracks. Ginny's face was flushed as she looked down at Harry, Her hair falling messily over her shoulders, surrounding his face.
She smiled down at him. Harry chuckled, letting his head fall back against the bed. He felt the mattress shift as Ginny moved to lay beside him, her side pressing into his. He closed his eyes, wishing he could pause the moment and live in it.
He peeked over at Ginny and saw that she had her arm over her eyes. She still had no shirt on and Harry couldn't help his eyes from trailing, watching as her chest rose and fell with her breath. He looked back up at her face and saw that she was peeking back at him. Her smirk was mischievous.
"Liking what you're seeing?" Harry smiled shyly. He didn't have to say anything, Ginny knew what she did to him.
"We're going to have to talk about this, right?" Harry finally said. Ginny gave a non committal nose, turning to face him.
"Not tonight we're not. You better get going, unless you want Hermione to give you the lecture of a lifetime."
"Hypocrite," Harry muttered, getting up. He immediately missed the warmth of Ginny beside him. He pulled his shirt back on and tightened his belt. He looked back at Ginny still lying on her bed and felt an overwhelming concoction of emotions. Harry didn't know why he would ever expect anything else, but things had just grown a lot more complicated.