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Author: legobean Story: Harry Potter and the Toll of Destiny Rating: Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 23 Words: 169,577
Disclaimer: Well if you’ve read this far, you can send me a check for $19.95 and…oh, wait. No, don’t do that. Bad fan fiction author! Unfortunately, many of the characters in this story belong to JK Rowling. Because of that I’m not profiting from this story. If only I had thought of Harry Potter first, then I could afford to buy each and every one of you a puppy. Well, until I write my own story based on my original work, you’re just going to have to pay for your puppies by yourself. Until then, I intend no infringement on JKR’s franchise, but thanks for reading! The static really wasn’t bothering her that much of course. It was just, well, it hadn’t been a great week. She had hoped it would all go so much better. Harry and Ginny had finally got to see each other, and she had really hoped their reunion was going to be a memory that she could cherish forever. The problem was that she had spent the day acting like a human hosepipe, and then fallen asleep just after dinner. She could barely remember anything that happened after that dreadful memory of Harry’s. She shuddered, it was probably best not to start thinking about that now; she needed to be on her best guard tonight if they had any chance of evading her Mother-in-law’s questions. She hadn’t wanted to even go tonight, but after Molly had Flooed Ron and insisted that she Floo call the Burrow on Friday, she found she had little choice. Molly was so disappointed that Hermione had missed the family’s Halloween dinner, and she had missed so many others lately. When the small guilt trips didn’t convince Hermione to show up for dinner tonight, Molly had laid it on thick. ‘I know I’m not your real mother, but I do miss you so much. It must be terrible for you to have to come all the way out to the Burrow and spend time with me, but I do miss my daughters so very much when they don’t return home.’ It was sappy and Hermione knew she was being manipulated, but she had missed a lot of Weasley family dinners lately, and she did dearly love Molly. But she also hated lying to her, and she would inevitably have to do a lot of it tonight. She had asked Ginny to stay with Harry tonight, it would have made her less nervous if it had been Ron, but Molly had insisted that both of them attend, even offering to hold dinner until whenever they both could make it. She hadn’t been at all pleased when Ginny called to cancel, but Ginny at least hadn’t missed a dinner in months, so it was hard for her mother to get too angry. She just really loved it when they could all be there together; family was really important to the Weasleys. Still she had to wonder, was leaving Ginny and Harry alone a good idea? Harry had insisted that nothing had happened between them the night that Ginny came to visit, but it still seemed like she was leaving the fox to guard the hen house. Both Ginny and Harry insisted they understood why it wasn’t a good idea for them to get serious too soon, and that they were okay just seeing how things played out. But she had expected both of them to fight it more, and while she loved and trusted them both, they both had a tendency to ignore any rules that were designed to protect them. Hermione sighed. Well, there was nothing for it now, she would just have to trust that they were smart enough not to do something they would both later regret. She put the finishing touches on her make up and headed down stairs to gather up her boys. *** “Oh, Hermione, dear, it’s so wonderful to see you!” Molly cried as Hermione stepped out of the fire. Her mother-in-law enveloped her in a bone-cracking hug, and looked her up and down, cupping a hand to her face for just a moment. “Your skirt’s bunching up a bit, dear,” Molly warned, and waved her wand at Hermione’s skirt. It instantly unrumpled and laid properly. “How did you? I tried that six times! Why didn’t it work when I did it?” Hermione huffed. “Oh, you look so nice,” Molly complimented. “Sometimes it just takes an experienced hand.” She patted Hermione’s shoulder reassuringly. Molly turned to the boys, and exclaimed, “Oh, my. You’re so big! You’re growing like weeds!” “We were just here on Wednesday!” James objected, “We’re the same size we were then!” “Oh, no, you’re not. You’re growing up way too fast. A grandmother always knows,” she assured them. She tried to capture Harry in a hug, but he scooted away from her grip. “Now, now, Harry. You come here and give your old Grandmum a hug.” “You’re not old!” Harry objected, and he immediately hurried over and gave Molly a hug. She squeezed him tightly. “You little charmer. Just like your namesake you are.” He beamed at her, and when she let go he immediately hurried off, mostly likely to find Fred and George. He’d be in trouble in ten minutes flat, no doubt. Molly scooped up James and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “And how are you, handsome?” “Great!” James exclaimed excitedly. “James, come play!” Came the voice of Juliet from the sitting room. James quickly wiggled free of Molly’s grasp and went running after his brother. Hermione chatted with Molly as they put dishes on the table, and then when everything was ready she went into the sitting room to call everyone for dinner. The boys were huddled in a circle with three very blonde girls; they were passing around one of Fred and George’s wands that turned into a different comical item depending on the wand movement used. “Time for dinner, kids. Go wash your hands.” “Show us a good one, Mum!” Harry exclaimed, thrusting the wand into her hand. Hermione thought for a moment and then gave the wand a complicated wave for transfiguring a person into an animal. The wand exploded with a small pop, and Hermione was covered in neon green paint. “HARRY WALTER WEASLEY! You are in so much trouble. We are going home right this instant. I can’t believe you thought that would be funny! You are SO grounded!” Hermione shouted, her fury causing her abnormally green self to wobble in a rather ridiculous fashion. “Er, uh, sorry there, Hermione. That wand is meant for kids only,” Fred said apologetically. “I didn’t warn them; it’s my fault.” Hermione spun on Fred, “YOU! You stupid…” Hermione paused, but was unable to come up with an appropriately rude insult. “How dare you give something like that to my children!” “It’s clearly labeled for kids; it wouldn’t hurt them, and they were just having a bit of fun,” Fred answered defensively. “Fun! Look at me!” Fred did look, and unfortunately a small snicker escaped his lips and several of the other Weasleys in the room couldn’t contain themselves any longer. Always proper and in charge, Hermione was dressed quite prettily in a Muggle dress and heels. Her hair pulled back carefully in an antique hair clip, covered from head to toe in neon green paint. Ron eyes were shifting back and forth between his brother and his wife. “Fred, it’s not funny really.” However Ron was obviously having trouble not joining in the laughter, and as she glared menacingly at him a small smile snuck across his face. The laughing, and lack of support from her husband pushed Hermione over the edge. She whipped out her wand, while giving a frustrated cry of indignation and in just a few seconds everyone in the room had neon green hair. Everyone looked around in shock, as the heavily freckled family took on the distinct appearance of troll dolls. “Hermione, that’s brilliant!” gushed George, just as Molly stomped into the sitting room. “Oh sure, see someone’s covered in green paint and immediately you suspect us,” Fred answered cheekily. “Yeah, I’m totally innocent. Why would you suspect me?” George added. “Don’t you cheek me; you are not too old for me to take you across my knee!” Molly shouted, shooting a glare at Fred and his duplicate. “It was just a little accident, Mum. I was letting the kids play with one of the wands from the shop; it’s charmed only to work for kids.” “And you think that makes it okay?” Molly interrupted. “Oh, you are in so much trouble. I’m getting Katie to come help straighten out Hermione, you better think about what you’re going to tell her.” “Mum, no!” Fred pleaded, a horrified expression on his face. “First, you don’t bring her when she’s practically a member of the family, and then you behave like this. It’s time for you grow up, Fred Weasley!” Molly strode into the kitchen, and they heard the fire roar to life just before she shouted, “Katie Bell!” There was silence in the sitting room as they listened to the conversation in the next room “Mrs Weasley, how nice of you to call. How’s dinner?” The sweet voice of Katie Bell reverberated into the kitchen. “Katie, dear, we feel terrible that our prat of a son didn’t invite you to come to dinner tonight. I honestly just don’t know what to do with him, and now you will not believe what he’s done!” “Oh dear, what is it now? Goldfish in the water pitcher? I told him that wasn’t funny,” Katie groaned. “If you wouldn’t mind coming over for dinner, dear, I think Hermione could use your help.” “Oh, certainly, Mrs Weasley. I’ll be right there.” A few minutes later Molly was attempting to remove the paint from Hermione, while trying to convince her not to just storm home. Katie swept gracefully in the room, her beautiful mane of blonde hair trailing behind her. She stopped short at the sight of Hermione still covered in neon green paint. “Oh, my, Hermione, I am so sorry.” She turned to Molly. “Fred did this?” she asked in a desperate tone. Molly nodded angrily. “FRED GIDEON WEASLEY, get your skinny arse in here this instant!” Katie screamed. After Fred apologized profusely to Hermione for letting something that clearly wasn’t funny fall into her hands, and then apologizing to Katie for embarrassing her, and then apologizing to his Mum for ruining the family dinner and causing everything to get cold, the family finally sat down to dinner. The mood was rather heavy as the women at the table all pointedly ignored the men. Fleur had come in late and had been quite distressed over both the explanation of the exploding wand, and the fact her three normally tow-headed daughters had shocking bright green hair. Harry, James, Fred and George all thought the bright green hair was utterly brilliant and had gone on and on about it, and the three little girls didn’t seem to mind so much, when Hermione assured them it should wear off in a few days. Finally the conversation settled down a bit. “Eez poor ‘Arry’s ‘and still on visiting friends?” Fleur asked Molly. “Yes, I must say I’m quite intrigued that he has spent so much time with friends recently. Oh, I do hope he find his way home, it would be so nice to see him. I worry that he hasn’t been taking proper care of himself. I wish I knew who he was visiting. If Dumbledore, bless his soul, was still alive, I am sure we could have tracked him down. I have been tempted to post him a letter, but since Errol died, I don’t want to send some strange post owl out to see him, he might not trust the letter.” Molly sighed. “Well at least ‘e is with friends.” Fleur nodded. “I too worry about our ‘Arry. ‘e has been gone zo long.” Hermione was staring decidedly at her plate. Ron was beginning to sweat and fidget; she elbowed him and shot him a sideways glance to knock it off. “Hermione, Ron, can you think of anyone Harry might be visiting for so long without coming home for a visit?” Molly asked. “No, Mum,” Ron said far too quickly, causing Hermione to step on his foot. “Maybe he’s made a new friend?” Hermione offered. “Oh, but why hasn’t he come to see us? He must know that he’s always welcome here and how much the whole family adores him.” Molly sniffed. “I’m sure he does, Mum. He probably just has other things on his mind right now,” Ron assured her. “Where iz Ginny this evening?” Fleur inquired. “I wanted to show ‘er the samples from the girlz Christmas robz I am making. I wish she would let me make her zome. She would look zo beautiful.” “Oh, she got some last minute invitation for dinner with a friend. I think she might have finally found someone she fancies,” Molly answered excitedly, shifting moods quickly in the way only a mother can. “She sounded so excited. What have you heard, Hermione? Has she said anything about this mysterious stranger?” Hermione blushed, completely losing her poker face. “She hasn’t said much to me. Of course I’ve been gone so much we haven’t had much time to talk.” “Yeah, where do you keep running off to, Hermione? This new patient sounds a bit dodgy,” George commented with a curious gaze. “Too right. Missing family dinners, gone for weeks at a time. You best be keeping an eye on the missus, Ron,” Fred added. “Fred! What is wrong with you tonight? You apologize to Hermione this instant,” Katie barked. “I was just having a little fun,” Fred insisted. “Have you just met Fred?” Ron rolled his eyes at Katie. “He’s been like this since birth.” “Yes, well it’s high time you grow up a little, Fred Weasley, or maybe I should find someone else to escort me to Daddy’s functions. It’s not like you make much of an effort anyway,” Katie howled. “Katie Bear, no! I’m sorry, you know how much you mean to me. I’m really sorry,” Fred pleaded. “You certainly have a funny way of showing it!” Katie huffed, throwing her napkin down, then storming out of the room, damp pools forming under her pretty brown eyes. Fred sat gobsmacked at the table, his eyebrows almost completely hidden under his obscenely green hair. “Katie Bear?” Ron snickered, and then grimaced, as Hermione once again showed him her displeasure by stamping on his foot. “Fred, you better go and comfort her, and you better do it right. Because, by God, if you have hurt her feeling anymore with your juvenile antics I will give you such a case of blisters, you will never sit down again,” Molly growled. Fred stood up and started slinking to the doorway, following Katie’s retreat. As he approached the doorway he muttered, “This place was a lot more fun when there weren’t so many witches around here.” He then yelped as three very well aimed curses made contact with his bum, one from each of the three remaining women in the dining room. This sent the children into fits of giggles, until their Grandmother’s glare silenced them. After things had settled down a bit and the eating resumed, Molly sighed. “I’m so sorry, Hermione, dear. Your first dinner here in months, and it’s been a total fiasco. I wanted it be a special so you wouldn’t want be away so long again.” Molly’s eyes began to water and a lump formed in Hermione’s throat. “I do love coming to dinner here,” Hermione assured her, “even when it’s a little more lively than I would like. It’s just that I have been so busy with work. I am sorry I haven’t been around more; I really do miss all of you.” “We ‘ave mized you too ‘ermione. Far too many boyz at theze dinners lately.” She shot Bill a teasing look. “Well, I can certainly find more to do at work, if you would like me to miss a few,” Bill offered, looking wounded. “If you spend any more time in zat office, you better start sleeping zere.” Fleur said with a meaningful glance. Then she reached out to squeeze his hand. “So tell us, Hermione, what has you spending so much time with this new mystery patient? I mean what can possibly be keeping you away from your family all hours of the day and night, and why does the hand on your clock say visiting friends, instead of at work. I was beginning to think it was broken, but it did still pop back to home about an hour before you arrived.” Molly peered at her intently Hermione started looking even greener. “Er, um I’m not sure, that’s really odd,” Hermione answered uncomfortably. “It’s been a nice change of pace with Harry’s hand….” Molly stopped abruptly and fixed Hermione with a piercing gaze. Hermione did her best not to look at her mother-in-law, she was stirring her potatoes around with her fork. The boys didn’t seem to be taking much notice as they had fallen back into their previous discussion of possible rule changes being considered for the next Quidditch season. Fleur, however noticed the instant tension that started building between Molly and Hermione. The longer Hermione refused to meet Molly’s gaze the pinker each of them began to get. Small beads of sweat suddenly broke out on Hermione’s forehead. “You know where he is!” Molly shrieked. “Know where who is?” Hermione answered, attempting to sound airy, but the trembling in her voice giving her emotions away. “What’s wrong, dear?” Arthur asked. “She knows where Harry is!” Molly cried again pointing an accusing finger at Hermione. Four heads immediately and simultaneously snapped towards Hermione, and four smaller heads immediately snapped towards Harry Weasley, while Ron’s head hung shamefully a few inches from his plate. “Oh, no,” he muttered, a slight squeak in his voice Hermione hadn’t heard since the night Sirius had returned. “Oh, honestly,” Hermione waved her arms breezily. “I couldn’t tell you, Harry’s been in treatment; Healer/Patient confidentiality you know.” A flurry of shouted accusations and threat making ensued, throwing the dinner once again into chaos. The five children looked around helplessly. Finally there was a loud pop from Arthur’s wand. “All right, everyone settle down.” “Ron knows,” George uttered accusingly, his jaw setting defiantly as his eyes bored into his brother. “Yes, well it was Ron that captured him,” Hermione explained desperately. “So of course he knows.” “Captured him?” Molly cried. “Ron isn’t a Healer, what’s his excuse?” growled Bill. “Well, I-I-I...” Ron faltered. “Ron was trying to look out for the best interests of Harry, we wanted to keep him as calm, and quiet as possible, so he wouldn’t disappear again,” Hermione attempted to explain. “What have you done with my Harry?” Molly shrieked, her eyes wild as hysteria started to set in. Her wand appeared pointed squarely at Hermione. “Mum, just calm down,” Hermione started. “Don’t you Mum me,” Molly spat. “I can’t believe Harry’s been back for what, almost two months, and you haven’t said a word to us, his family. How dare you!” “Mum, you don’t understand,” Ron said quietly, his gentle tone getting everyone’s attention. “The treatment Hermione has been developing for the last several years was designed specifically for Harry. When he disappeared again this last time, Hermione set out a plan to capture him by force, so that she could treat him, against his will if necessary. Whether or not he wanted to return, we decided to force the treatment on him.” Hermione started crying at this, but Ron continued. “We were desperate, we couldn’t let him stay out there by himself, but technically we abducted him, and we were holding him against his will,” Ron finished sadly, then added, “Well as much as anyone can hold Harry against his will. I suspect he could have escaped if he had really wanted to.” “I removed his memories,” Hermione choked out. “So he wouldn’t remember anything since his seventeenth birthday. I’ve been slowly reintegrating them, but it takes a lot of time. Harry doesn’t remember the fall of Voldemort or anything since, and for more than two years before,” she finished as tears washed down her face. A stunned silence fell across the table. There was a look of shock on the children’s faces. “Do you mean Harry Potter?” James asked. Hermione nodded weakly, and the look of shock and wonder on the kids faces deepened. Most everybody at the table felt they shouldn’t be there, but nobody wanted to be the one to leave the table to shoo them away and miss what was happening. “Where is he?” Molly asked again, her wand still in her hand, but now resting on the table. “Does Ginny know?” Fleur asked. Hermione nodded. “She’s with him now, so Ron and I can be here,” she added meekly. Molly got up from her chair and hugged Hermione’s head. “Now, now, dear, there’s no more need for tears. We understand that you did what you felt you had to do to help Harry, but you have to understand we are all his family. We’re the only family he’s ever known, and he needs to know how much we care about him. Please tell me where he is, so we can bring him home. I know he will stay, once he gets himself situated; he’s always loved it here.” “I need to talk to Harry first,” Hermione said tremulously. “It’s his decision.” “It most certainly is not his decision,” Arthur roared, everyone at the table turning to him in shock. “The boy needs help, and like you, we will help him whether he wants our help or not. He is our seventh son, and, by God, if he needs us, then we are bringing him back here where we can be sure he gets it.” In their shock of seeing Arthur so emotional, it took a moment for anyone to speak. Finally after a moment, George muttered, “Here, here!” The other members of the table started to nod their agreement. *** Harry opened the door and Ginny stepped tentatively inside. The confidence she had built up the other night was currently eluding her, but she figured she must look fine given the stunned expression on Harry’s face. The dress she had decided to wear was fairly conservative, with a much higher neckline than she usually wore, but she thought it showed off her curves nicely. “Hi, you look terrific,” Harry rasped, his throat sounding dry and irritated. He tried clearing it a bit and tried again. “Sorry, my voice must be out of practice; I don’t talk to anyone but Hermione these days. I meant to say you look terrific.” Ginny had heard him the first time, and she felt her cheeks blush slightly. When he cleared his throat and repeated the compliment she was glowing with happiness. “Thank you, I’m glad you like it. I’m afraid my robes aren’t very flattering, so I decided to Muggle it a bit today.” She looked Harry directly in eye, daring him to kiss her. Harry broke eye contact first and turned away from her. “You didn’t wear a jacket. It’s a bit cold for that this time of year isn’t it?” “One of the many advantages of being a witch. You don’t have to be able to find a jacket to match your outfit,” Ginny replied teasingly. She forced her lips into a kind of pouty frown to show her displeasure that Harry had not even made a move to embrace her, but he didn’t notice as he seemed to be trying very hard not stare at her. “Would you like something to drink?” Harry offered. “No, I’m fine.” Ginny sat down on the couch and attempted to look as inviting as possible but Harry plopped down in an arm chair, across the coffee table from her and an awkward silence ensued. Maybe kissing him so thoroughly the last time she had been here hadn’t been such a terrific idea. Harry seemed uncomfortable and out of sorts today. “Harry, what’s wrong?” Ginny asked. “Er, nothing,” Harry answered, suddenly looking worried. “Should I have offered you a snack or something? Are you cold? Am I being a prat or something?” Harry gushed. “I’ve never really had a visitor before.” “I was here on Thursday,” Ginny answered questionably. “Have you forgotten?” “Well, yeah, but Hermione was here, and I mean, Ron’s been here before, but that’s just different somehow,” Harry rambled uselessly. He took a deep breath. “This is just the first time I’ve ever been expected to entertain a guest. I was never allowed visitors at the Dursleys’, and I’ve never had a place of my own. I guess I am kind of mucking it up, aren’t I?” Ginny smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring manner. “Stop trying so hard and it will be fine. I came here to see you, and to talk to you. It is a little awkward I guess because I’m not sure what I am allowed to talk to you about, but just talk to me and we’ll be fine.” “Allowed?” Harry asked confused. “Hermione made me promise not to pry into your treatment or your memories. I’m not supposed to talk about our past. I’m not supposed to bring up things you don’t remember. I want to talk to you more than I’ve wanted to talk to anyone in the last nine years, but we need a safe topic of conversation. Any ideas?” Ginny asked in a teasing, yet slightly exasperated tone. “Why shouldn’t we talk about the past? I feel like at least I might be able to get straight answers from you. Hermione just wants to dance around anything I might find unpleasant,” Harry responded petulantly. “Well you have been avoiding us for a while, and I think she just wants to prevent making you deal with things that might bring you pain,” Ginny answered sagely. “I don’t want to cause you any pain either,” she added encouragingly. She wished this wasn’t so hard, that they could go back to how they’d been before the breakup. “What does that mean?” “It means, I have questions, and you may or may not have answers, but I don’t want to ask my questions until you can give me honest answers.” She sighed. “So what are we going to talk about for the next few months while you’re working on your memories?” Harry thought for a few moments before he answered. “Let’s talk about you.” Ginny giggled nervously. “What’s there to tell really?” “Just tell me about yourself, about your life. I’ve missed so much, and even when I get my memories back, I won’t know about you, so tell me. Who is Ginny Weasley? What did I miss over the last nine years?” Ginny’s mind raced. Suddenly the last nine years seemed so wasted. What could she tell the super hero in the room about herself? She hadn’t done much but look for him, pine for him, and worry that he was okay. She certainly couldn’t tell him that; she would seem like a hopeless twit. Ginny racked her brain. All the girls she’d ever engaged in girl talk with always complained that men only wanted to talk about themselves and here Harry was waiting for her to tell him every detail about herself, and she was coming up empty. “Come on,” Harry cajoled. “Tell me about yourself!” Ginny shook her head. “I don’t think I can. It’s just, it doesn’t seem right.” She grabbed for the ring on her finger and started to play with it. That generally calmed her nerves, but tonight it seemed to be making things worse. “Let’s talk about Ron and Hermione.” Harry’s brow furrowed. “Okay, Ginny. Whatever you want.” Ginny started telling Harry about Ron and Hermione. She started by telling him how close they had become after the search for the Horcruxes ended. Harry was surprised Ginny knew about them, and she explained that Hermione had told her everything after the war ended. Harry nodded resolutely, but didn’t interrupt further. She told him about their wedding and their first few years together. She even told him how embarrassed Hermione was about getting pregnant while still in school, but how Ron had refused to be embarrassed. She told him how proud she was of the father and husband Ron had become, and how much he had changed. When she ran out of anecdotes about Ron and Hermione she started telling him about Fred and George over a beautiful dinner that Dobby had prepared. They smiled when they walked in and realized that Dobby had prepared a romantic meal by candlelight, but neither made mention of it. The tension between them broke down the longer they talked and laughed, and Harry seemed to relax and the heavy worry lines around his face began to smooth. The longer they talked the better he began to look, and Ginny was heartened that just talking to her was having a positive effect on him. He was watching her in the candlelight, she kept thinking she should feel self conscious under his bold stare, but she didn’t. She was just happy that she could still draw this kind of reaction from him. Her grin grew wider the longer Harry gazed at her with a dreamy, wanton look in his eyes, but she worked hard at not letting him notice that she knew he was staring. His deep green eyes were unguarded and twinkled brightly. She wondered absently if her heart would break if he looked away from her. When they walked back into the sitting room, they found that Dobby had lowered the lights in here as well, and put on soft background music. “Apparently Dobby is in the mood for romance,” Harry commented wryly. “Oh, I’m sure this was all part of your master plan, Mr Potter,” Ginny teased. “Ply a girl with good food and wine and then take her into a dim room and make your move.” Harry snorted. “You know me, I’m ‘Harry Potter, ladies’ man.’” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, which looked more ridiculous than seductive. Ginny laughed out loud at this, but when Harry flopped down on the couch instead of sitting across from her, she sat down as closely as she could and grabbed his arm. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed contentedly. They sat there until Ginny wasn’t sure how much time had passed, they weren’t talking but it didn’t matter, somehow the silence was no longer awkward. *** Harry was keenly aware of the heat created by Ginny’s face on his shoulder, and how her hand was gently stroking his arm. It felt good. It felt both so right and so wrong in so many ways. He couldn’t believe his luck that they could have a moment like this so easily. The night had been awkward at first as they both seemed uncomfortable. Harry was unsure of how casual he should be in showing his affection for her. They weren’t currently a couple, but they had dated before. However, Harry couldn’t remember enough to know how he should be acting. His mind worked feverishly over every detail he had managed to glean from Ron and Hermione over what had happened between him and Ginny. When it came down to it, the only reliable information he possessed had come from Ron, and it indicated that he had treated Ginny badly. Why wasn’t she angry? He was just about to ask her why she wasn’t more upset with him when he heard a soft snore beside him. He stared at the fire, the gorgeous woman beside him asleep contentedly on his shoulder. He felt more at home than he could ever remember, but there was also fear, a new fear that he didn’t recognize. He was lost in his thoughts as Ginny slept quietly beside him when a loud rapping startled both of them. Ginny shook her head trying to get her bearings. “I fell asleep?” she asked confused, and sounding slightly angry. “Someone’s at the door,” Harry answered. “I suspect that’ll be our chaperone,” Ginny grumbled. Harry chuckled and started to the door. He had opened it just a crack before he was enveloped by arms of steel attempting to crush the life out of him. “Harry!” A cheer went up from just outside the door. Harry stood dumbfounded as he looked across a sea of green heads, and the unmistakable aroma of ginger, cinnamon, and fresh baking, that could only be Molly Weasly. She was sobbing openly into his button down shirt and he could feel the dampness already soaking through. “My baby,” she murmured. “Er?” Harry asked. “Hi, Mum,” Ginny added. Molly pulled back from Harry’s chest just long enough to utter crossly at Ginny, “How could you not tell me Harry was back!” Ginny said nothing, but she blushed and toed the floor. Harry attempted to extricate himself from Mrs Weasley but found that an impossible task. He tugged them both backwards so that there was room at the door for the rest of the party to file in. Arthur, Bill, Fleur, and George all came in smiling widely at Harry. Ron came in next followed by an extremely disgruntled looking Hermione. “It’s, er, good to see you all,” Harry finally managed to spit out. “It’s good to see you too, Son. We’re so happy to know you’re finally safe,” Mr Weasley replied. “We are zo ‘appy, ‘arry. We ‘ave mized you zo much.” Fleur gushed at him as tears streamed down her face. She walked around behind him and hugged him as well so he was sandwiched between Mrs Weasley and Fleur. “Hey, how come they get all the fun,” Ginny said imperiously. She stalked over to the trio and wrapped her arms around Harry’s middle from the side. “Group hug!” called George, moving around to Harry’s other side, and grasping tightly. Arthur came over and put his arms around his wife and daughter, Bill joined them by standing between Fleur and Ginny. “Oi, Ron and Hermione, get in here!” George called. Hermione looked reluctant as she eyed Harry apologetically. Harry for his part was embarrassed by the attention, but he was happy to see the whole family. “Well, he blushes like a Weasley,” Bill teased. Ron and Hermione joined the group and they stayed there until Harry simply couldn’t take it anymore. “All right, all right, whoever’s squeezing my bum, knock it off!” Harry barked. “Sorry, Harry,” Ginny and George chorused. The group broke up in peels of laughter. Harry’s face continued to burn, but his heart swelled with love for his favorite family. He looked around at them, they were all so different than he remembered. Finally he asked, “Erm, what’s with the green hair?” “Hermione had a bit of a tantrum earlier and made some adjustments,” Bill commented wryly. Harry looked questioningly at Hermione who still seemed to have a bit of a neon green tint to her. He raised his eyebrow at her, but she remained silent until Bill relayed the entire story. Ginny and Harry found it quite amusing and they were aching with laughter at Fred’s rather torturous evening, that had culminated in being left behind to watch the children with only uttered generalities as to why everyone was leaving. “Pack your things, dear. You’re coming home,” Mrs Weasley prodded. “Home?” Harry questioned reverently. “Yes, home with your family.” Molly nodded. Harry’s heart filled to overflowing for these wondrous people, he had never actually lived at the Burrow, but it felt natural to think of it as home. His eyes sparkled with tears left unshed, but he strained to keep them from falling. “I’ve never really had a home, other than Hogwarts,” Harry mumbled more to himself than to any of the assembled Weasleys. Molly hugged him fiercely once again and whispered into his chest, “Of course you have, Harry. You’ve just never got to stay there very long. Your home is with us.” With that, she drug Harry back into his room and started assembling his few meager possessions. “Where’s your trunk, dear?” she asked. “I-I-I don’t have one anymore,” Harry stuttered. “Well, we’ll just have to carry everything; there’s hardly anything here anyway. It’ll be fine,” Molly assured him. She picked up an armload of clothes and handed it to Harry. They packed up Harry’s few other belongings in whatever they could find, with George and Ginny each carrying a few of Harry’s items *** Thirty minutes later Harry saw the moonlit outline of a ramshackle home. It looked slightly less run down than he remembered , but it still bulged at awkward angles, and had an awkward cluster of chimneys at the top. It made Harry break out into a wide grin. He loved this house. He always had from the first moment he saw it, after his extraction by Ron and the twins the summer after his first year at Hogwarts. No matter how many times he saw it, it always made him feel like everything would be all right. His chest grew tight as he approached the door, walking along the hedge. His breath became ragged, and he desperately wanted to be inside, but for some reason his feet stopped. Initially none of the Weasleys, save Ginny, noticed that Harry had stopped. She walked back to him and put her hand on his forearm and stood there quietly for moment. “Come on, Harry, it’ll be fine.” She stroked his arm supportively and then tugged him slightly to get him moving again. They walked into the side door just in time to hear Fred exclaim, “So what’s the big idea taking off in the middle of dinner, and leaving us with the kids? What was so blasted important? I know you were hacked off at me, but that’s just rude!” He glanced around at them with a slightly angry look. Slowly each of the Weasleys turned and focused on Harry. “Bloody hell,” Fred whispered in a shocked tone. “Harry!” He charged across the Weasley’s kitchen and grabbed Harry around the waist. He picked Harry up and spun him around. He took off at a jog for the sitting room. “Katie Bear! Harry’s back!” He carried Harry into the sitting room, and plopped him down in front of Katie as if to prove that indeed Harry was back. The Weasley children were gathered around the sitting room playing games, even though it was well past their bed times, and stared at Harry in absolute shock. Katie hopped up and threw her arms around Harry. “Oh, it is so good to see you!” Katie promptly kissed Harry on the cheek causing his skin once again to burn. Little Harry reached up and tugged on the sleeve of Harry’s shirt. Harry looked down at him, and the young boy looked like he might faint. Finally he managed to spit out, “Are you really Harry Potter?” Harry smiled down at a miniature version of the boy who’d asked him that question on the Hogwarts Express. “Erm, I’m afraid so,” Harry said. His blush deepening, he glanced up at Ron, who was grinning broadly at him. “Blimey,” Little Harry muttered in awe, “Can I have your autograph?” Harry wasn’t sure how he could be more embarrassed and started to fidget from the relative closeness of Katie, and the awe on all the small faces in the room. The adults all looked like Christmas had come early this year. It was all a bit much for Harry. “Sorry, big guy,” Fred said picking up Harry Weasley. “But Harry’s a little shy about being famous, he doesn’t really give autographs. But, if you’re really good, I might be able to hook you up, I’ve got some good dirt on him,” Fred whispered conspiratorially. “Like what?” the diminutive Harry asked. “Oh, I can tell you all about his lack of romantic success, or the time he was bested by a Malfoy,” Fred answered. Harry Weasley’s brow furrowed as he looked at Harry Potter, whose skin burned as hot as the worst sunburn he’d ever got working in the Dursleys’ yard all day without sunscreen. “That’s enough. Everyone stop embarrassing Harry,” Mrs Weasley ordered. “You three take Harry’s things up to his room,” she pointed at George, Ron and Bill, “You three come help me serve the pudding,” she pointed to Hermione, Ginny and Fleur, “You three, clear the table,” pointing to Arthur, Fred and Katie. “Harry, you just relax a bit.” *** That night Harry sat and reflected on the events that had led to him laying on a bed in the only place left in his world that felt remotely like home. Hogwarts used to be his home, but that feeling ended the moment he saw Dumbledore tumble off the Astronomy Tower. He felt comfortable lying there in crisp clean linens. It was odd that this had once been Percy’s room, because, for some reason Harry could not fathom, it was decorated with mementos from his own life, not Percy’s. There was an article from the Daily Prophet extolling him as the winner of the Triwizard tournament, but it made no mention of the return of Voldemort. It had a photo of Harry taken in his champion robes before the start of the third task. There were various other clippings from different events for which he had appeared in the paper. There was a photo of Harry being held by his parents that he recognized from the album that Hagrid had given Harry back in his first year. He didn’t know how it had come to be framed and hanging on the wall here, yet there it was. The little animated figure of the Hungarian Horntail was sitting on the dresser, and pictures lined one wall of Harry with each of the Quidditch teams he had played for during his time at Hogwarts, even his fifth year. He wasn’t in that photo of course, just a caption that read Harry Potter, Starting Seeker (not pictured). The tiny Ginny from the photo waved enthusiastically from inside the frame. He sighed contentedly and his thoughts shifted to the beautiful red-headed woman sleeping just a few doors away on the same floor. She had refused to return home with Ron and Hermione and had stayed at the Burrow. She and Harry hadn’t really talked after their return, but he was so full of questions. Harry desperately wanted to apologize to her for the break up, for leaving her behind, leaving her here to wonder what had happened. It seemed so small to try now and apologize after all this time had passed. How could she possibly forgive him now if she hadn’t already done so? His arm still felt warm where she had rested her head on it. He thought he might never forget that feeling of her snuggled up against him sleeping. Something in his mind longed for that contact again. At the same time it was taking all his will power not to get out of bed and go lay down with Ginny. But the prospect of her reacting negatively kept him stuck rigidly to his own bed. But, she had stayed for the night. Even though she lived with Ron and Hermione now, she had insisted on staying at the Burrow for his first night back. Certainly that had to mean something? He wondered if he would ever be able to understand just what it meant. His eyelids started to lose the battle with his comfortable surroundings, and the room faded from his consciousness. *** When Harry awoke, he realized that he was being shaken. “Harry, it’s okay. You’re fine. Please wake up.” Images of Ginny had been flashing through his mind. Her lying on the floor of the Chambers of Secrets. Ginny kissing Dean in a deserted hallway at Hogwarts. Ginny limping in the Department of Mysteries, her ankle shattered. He had been shaken awake to an image of Ginny standing over him, as he sat on a rock in the rain, eerily similar to the memory he had viewed with Hermione a few days before. The Ginny in his dream towered over him and was yelling, “How could you, Harry? Why don’t you just do it? You’re such a coward. I hate you!” Her face was twisted and ugly, and he could feel the hate emanating from her. He quickly became very aware that Ginny’s arms were wrapped around him now. She was rocking him, and cooing soothingly at him. “You’re fine, Harry. It’s okay. You’re at the Burrow.” She kept repeating over and over, “It’s okay.” He could feel her body pressed up against him through the thin fabric of her night dress. The thoughts from his dream caused him to shudder, and he pushed her away and scrambling to put distance between them. “Do you want to talk about it?” Ginny asked. Harry shook his head but said nothing; his gazed pinned her with terrified eyes. She reached out to touch him, but he jerked away from her, shuddering. She pulled her hand back. “What is it, Harry? I’m not going to hurt you.” “I’m fine,” Harry mumbled. Ginny gave a melancholy laugh. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just that you haven’t lied to me about being fine in a very long time; it takes me back.” Harry said nothing, but he started to settle on the far side of the bed. Ginny’s hands fell limply to her sides, and she sat there across from him. Harry couldn’t see her clearly from this distance without his glasses. He faded back into the memories of his dream. The fear of losing Ginny forever now dredged completely to the surface. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Ginny pleaded, “Please don’t shut me out. I don’t think I can take it anymore.” Tears formed in Harry’s eyes. Here was the person he cared most about begging him not to pull away from her anymore. Her hands were shaking, probably from the cold of the Burrow, he tried to assure himself. He reached for his glasses and put them on. As he looked at Ginny carefully now, she looked frightened. He reached out an arm towards her, and she tumbled into him. She clutched him like he might slip through her grasp, and he wrapped his arms around her diminutive frame and hugged her tightly to him. She was very cold against him, but as he held her she began to warm and relax. They cuddled on his bed until the sun started peeking through windows. “Are you asleep?” he finally asked. “No.” “Are you okay?” “I’m not sure, but I think that, for the first time in a long time, I eventually will be,” she responded. Harry’s mind stumbled over this cryptic response, but his sleep deprived mind was having trouble solving riddles at the moment. “We need to get you back to your bed, before your parents find us and kill me.” Ginny gave a forced weak laugh beside him. “I think they could find us involved in any type of lurid activity at the moment, and you’d be fine. They’re just happy you’re back. Frankly, so am I.” She kissed him lightly on the cheek and then finally pulled away from him. “Goodnight, Harry,” Ginny whispered, and then she padded back to her room, closing his door behind her.
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