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Harry Potter & the Veil of Shadows | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, General, Romance Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: R Reviews: 306 Summary: Moving on, strange dreams, mysterious newcomers, Death Eaters, the Veil of Shadows, and a little bit of life, laughter and love. Join Harry, Ginny, Ron and Hermione for their last year at Hogwarts - and the first year of the rest of their lives as they learn that just because Voldemort's gone doesn't mean life's going to be easy! Hitcount: Story Total: 160788; Chapter Total: 7943 Author's Notes: Many thanks to anyone who nominated or voted for us in the DSTAs. Thanks again to IcarusPhoenix and TopGun for their beta work - and to cwarbeck for catching some stuff everyone else missed. Oops! |
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Chapter Six - "A Grim Old Place" "Lily! Lily, it's him! Take Harry and run!" "Ginny, no, don't be dead, please don't be dead..!" "Kill the spare..." "Sirius!" "If death is nothing, Dumbledore, then kill the boy!" "Sectumsempra!" "HARRY!" Focus, focus, Harry, you've got to - happy memory. Happy memory. After the cup. At the wedding. Finding her again in the Great Hall.. Ginny... "Expecto Patronum!" Harry was finally able to yell, and the silver shape of Prongs burst forth from his wand, driving the three Dementors away from the arch. The light illuminated the dim chamber, casting strange shadows everywhere. He was tired, he needed chocolate, and his arm was still bleeding heavily... The oppressive cold faded as the Dementors fled. Harry noticed that they avoided the archway, and he fought down the now-recent memory of Sirius falling through that selfsame Veil - was it only three years ago? It seemed like so much longer. Some part of him was keeping track of the rest of the battle, but there, there was the one he wanted, right in front of the Veil. Lestrange. He was standing right there - bringing his sword to Hermione's throat. He tried Wind Travel, but Harry found that he couldn't focus himself enough for it - there was a sticky wetness working its way down the side of his head. When had he struck it? "Accio sword!" Harry cried instead, but he realized even as he spoke that he hadn't been specific enough as the sword of Gryffindor came into his hand from where Hermione had dropped it, rather than the wicked looking blade Lestrange was bringing around to Hermione's neck. He managed the wind-travel then, and the white mist propelled him over to in front of Hermione just in time. He was working by instinct as he solidified to bring the sword up and - Yes! There was a clang as metal struck metal, and Harry pushed the other blade away from his friend. Lestrange sneered. "Potter. Still interfering." "Everyone's got to have a hobby," Harry replied, and the two swords squealed as both men pressed against them, each looking for the advantage, until they were right up against the Veil itself. Lestrange backed his blade off, bringing it out again, and Harry responded by instinct, meeting each blow from the Death Eater and finally, pressing the advantage. One of the points on Lestrange's sword caught Harry's - Gryffindor's - again, and the two men stared each other down over locked blades. "You can't kill me, Potter. You know what'll happen if you do," Lestrange sneered again, his voice dripping with contempt. "I don't have to kill you, Lestrange. I've just got to move you another couple inches," Harry replied calmly, his mind made up. He knew now, what had to be done. The binding had to be broken, and there was only one possible way... He abruptly lowered Gryffindor's sword, sending the both of them off balance for a moment. Harry shot out a hand and pushed, and Lestrange began to fall backward through the Veil, just like Sirius. But as he did, Lestrange's hand shot out, grabbed a handful of Harry's torn robe and then he PULLED... and then Harry was falling too, through the Veil, and it felt like it would never stop..... * * * * * "What the hell was that?" Harry half-yelled as he shot awake, the dream already beginning to fade. Something about Lestrange - but not Bellatrix, it was... one of the twins. Rodolphus? Rabastan? They were in Ministry custody, weren't they? And then there was... Gryffindor's sword? And... the Veil. From the Department of Mysteries, the one Sirius had fallen through. Harry's reminisces of the dream were broken by the ache he felt in his neck. There was a small lump in his pillow, and he reminded himself to check it before coming back to bed - if he was going to. Don't know that I want to sleep with dreams like that... Harry stumbled his way from the master bedroom of Grimmauld Place to the bathroom, brief images from the dream fluttering through his mind even as he splashed cold water onto his face. It was obvious to Harry that he wouldn't sleep again this night - it was half-past five anyway. Well, I'm up. Might as well get started for the day, he thought, keeping all of Ginny's recent admonitions to try to be a more positive person in mind. She'd been almost happy when he said he was going to start spending some nights a week a Grimmauld Place, and Harry rather hoped that was just because it meant it would be doing something and would be far less surly, rather than the notion that she was growing tired of him already. So Harry started his shower, and tried to focus on the dream. Most prominent in those memories was the Veil itself, and Harry relaxed as the hot water poured over him, the tension and urgency of the dream literally washing away as he started his day. Guess being here at Grimmauld Place is bringing a lot of stuff back, Harry mused as he worked the shampoo into his hair. This had been his first night in the house that Harry still thought of as his Godfather's. He'd stayed in the master bedroom this time, unlike last year, not wanting to disturb Sirius' room. The suite was almost ridiculously large, easily double the size of the room he'd always shared here with Ron, and directly adjacent to the library. It was also the only bedroom on the third floor. There was a large fireplace with an ornate mantle, but the wallpaper was faded and old. Various paintings hung in the room, but none with any figures in them - Sirius' parents had obviously valued privacy. There were other pieces of furniture as well, a ratty old couch in front of the fire, dressers and wardrobes for two, and a closet that had very obviously been magically expanded. But the room's best feature, as far as Harry could discern, was the sinfully soft bed. It was twice the size of his bed at Hogwarts, and the hangings, like much of the rest of the house, were in greens, silvers and blacks. Definitely going to have to change that. Except for the stiffness in his neck, it was probably the most comfortable bed Harry had ever slept in his life. There was obviously something wrong with the pillow, but that could be readied easily enough. The second thing he liked most about the room wasn't the room itself, but the adjacent master bathroom that was only accessible from it. Someone in the family had obviously been a Hogwarts prefect, because they had duplicated the size and style of the enormous Prefect's Bathroom back at the castle. Harry also couldn't quite keep thoughts of what it would be like to have Ginny in that immensely over sized tub with him out of his mind, and that notion brought a definite smile to his face as he turned off the shower water and began to towel off. It also encouraged other physical reactions, so Harry decided that he certainly needed to get other thoughts on his mind. Therefore, he decided as he finished changing into a pair of jeans, some boots, and one of the few of Dudley's old shirts he still owned that today would be the day to really get down to it. Not for the first time, Harry thought that sending Kreacher back to Hogwarts for the summer might have been a mistake. He could do with a cup of the house-elf's excellent blend of tea right now. Coffee and toast would simply have to do today - he didn't feel up to preparing any more than that. It was true that the house-elf was needed at the school - the rebuilding and restoration of the castle would take some time if newly-confirmed Headmistress McGonagall was to reopen for classes by September 1st. While there were plenty of volunteers working on the reconstruction, the damage to Hogwarts had been extensive. And people had their own lives to rebuild - or build in the first place, as he was attempting to do now. But if Harry was to be honest with himself, that wasn't why he'd asked Kreacher to stay away from number twelve Grimmauld Place for a bit. Honestly, he didn't want the house-elf in the way. While the new relationship he now had with Kreacher was, if not a pleasant, but at least an interesting one, Harry found that he did not quite want to test that bond just yet. And what he had in mind for the most noble and ancient House of Black would most certainly be a test. Weeks ago, Ron & Hermione had left England for Australia. They'd sent a few owls, saying that there had been some complications, but nothing that they couldn't handle, they were rather enjoying themselves and would be home soon. All letters sounding very normal and the pair were, by all accounts, enjoying themselves immensely. And after that idiotic fight he'd had with Ginny, and the satisfaction he'd felt after his performance at Umbridge's trial, (Where the hell had that speech come from, anyway?) Harry had finally started lining up his priorities. First among those was a place to live, a place to call his own. He couldn't just keep staying at the Burrow forever, as tempting as it was. Harry simply wasn't a child anymore - even given that he'd never really had a proper childhood to begin with. After the last year, he just couldn't see himself living under someone else's roof, someone else's rules once more. Ron felt the same, he knew, and probably Hermione, though she'd never said it. Renting a flat somewhere - Harry very much wanted his privacy, and he still couldn't go anywhere without being practically mobbed, even after he'd given Xeno Lovegood a full interview for the Quibbler. (Well, mostly full - he'd simply referred to the Horcruxes as 'Dark artifacts' that Voldemort had used particular spells on. Skeeter had taken him to task over it in her latest editorial; the woman had seemed deeply offended by Harry's notion that not telling people exactly how Tom Riddle had become so unstoppable would be a Bad Idea.) He'd also briefly toyed with the idea of rebuilding his parents' cottage at Godric's Hollow, but living in the place where Tom Riddle had murdered his parents didn't seem especially appealing. It seemed strangely morbid, and that house had its own meaning now, as a monument to the sacrifice of his parents. It meant more to the people of the magical world as it was, and Harry couldn't bring himself to change that - not yet. Someday, maybe, he could reclaim it, rebuild it, pick up on the dream that had been abandoned almost seventeen years ago when Voldemort had killed Lily and James Potter, and left a one year old boy with a distinctive scar. Someday. But not yet. So, he'd settled on Grimmauld Place. But the Black ancestral home wasn't really a suitable place to live either, not with its troll-leg lampshades, musty furniture, mounted house-elf heads and screaming portraits. The four-story brownstone, nestled in between others, was too dark, its windows too old and opaque. Its carpets were faded and ragged, and not of a style he particularly liked in the first place. The place was clean, right enough. Kreacher had reported ridding the property of a bundimuns as well as several other household magical pests. But the place was old, and far too accustomed to being the home of a family that had been centered more on the Dark than the light. Therefore, that would all have to be changed. And the very first thing to go was going to have to be the portrait of Mrs. Walburga Black. As he puttered through the motions of his basic breakfast, (thoughts of just what Molly would say if she'd seen him only eating toast had encouraged Harry to at least scramble up some eggs and bacon as well) he considered his options. Once he'd finished eating, and had several spells firmly in mind, he walked down to the main hallway, eying the dark velvet drapes that covered the foul-mouthed woman's portrait. Sighing, he yanked the curtains aside. He was going to have to see the painting to pull this off. "Filthy half-blood! How dare you defile the house of my fathers! I'll see you dead before I come down boy, dead and rotting like - " "Muffliato," Harry said with a smile and the directed toss of his wand. Harry couldn't figure out why they'd never tried the Half-Blood Prince's spell instead of the normal silencing charm, but he was beyond gratified to see the spell work, and laughed openly at the expression on Mrs. Black's face as she continued screaming her muted epithets. The Permanent Sticking Charm didn't seem to be the only protection on the foul old portrait. He'd tried cutting the portrait out of the frame with Diffindo, but the canvas had simply resealed almost as quickly as he could cut it. Similar spells had just rebounded, and one had very nearly given him a strong resemblance to George. That was the last cutting spell he tried. Incendio hadn't worked either - although the rebounding jet of flame had taken out the troll-leg coat-rack, so it wasn't a total wash. Banishment charms simply did nothing at all. Thank Merlin Muffliato had at least been able to mute the portrait, though as Harry continued to work through various spells, he found that the silencing charm tended to wear off every half-hour or so. A Bludgeoning Hex hadn't knocked the portrait down either, (though parts of the ceiling had fallen on him from the force when he tried) and a few Blasting Hexes shot off at the portrait in frustration had rebounded and almost relieved Harry of some bits of his own he'd much rather be kept in their current, undamaged condition. No need to tell Ginny about that, he chuckled to himself. Still, it was bloody irritating how every spell he tried... Wait. That's it. Every spell... Within less than ten minutes, he'd Apparated back to the Burrow, found what he was looking for in Arthur's shed, and was smiling broadly from inside the den. Once he was certain that he was standing approximately on the other side of the wall from where Mrs. Black's portrait hung, Harry let loose a wide smile, brought the sledgehammer in his hands as far back as he could, and struck the wall with a satisfying crunch. It took almost two hours, but by the end of it, there was a new doorway to the den (or would be, once he'd framed it up a bit) and Mrs. Black's portrait was buried in the hallway in the midst of a pile of rubble. Aching, tired and dirty, even through the day was early yet, Harry pulled his wand and banished the entire pile to somewhere in the English channel. He didn't feel any remorse whatsoever that the intact portrait would have nothing but fish for company for all eternity. From there, Harry moved first into the large den that was adjacent to the kitchen. The furniture here was very similar to that in the Master Bedroom, and he wanted none of it at all. Just being in here was too reminiscent of that night in his fifth year, where he, Sirius and the Weasleys had been anxiously awaiting the news of Arthur's survival. "Amitto," Harry said, pointing his wand at a particularly ugly couch, keeping a firm mental picture of the area back at the Burrow where he and Arthur had laid out several tarps across the grass. He'd offered to send all of the furniture he didn't want to that tarp, where Molly could go through it to her heart's content. From there, she would decide what could be repaired or refurbished or transfigured, to see what Harry would need after he'd finished purchasing his own furniture or taking it from his family vault. There hadn't been a lot of material goods there, but the ones that were a connection to his family line, and if anything would make this place feel more like home, that would be it. And if he was going to make Grimmauld Place into his home, he might as well do it right and proper. Harry then began to methodically work from room to room, banishing chairs, ghastly lamps and stands, cabinets, beds, curtains, any hideous piece of furniture that he came across to the Burrow's fields. Creature remains - like the mounted elf-heads, the preserved goblin hides, or the stuffed Centaur that he found were all banished to a particular field where they could be cremated. Anything sort of more personal (and probably Dark) belongings and artifacts were banished down to the storage half of the basement, where Harry would be able to go through them all with Hermione (and the others, but especially Hermione) so he could figure out exactly what all of it was. The other half of the basement, he knew, was given over to a fully-equipped potions lab, though Harry still wasn't certain how much he could trust *those* contents either. The only rooms he left alone entirely where the Library (though the ugly desk in there had been quickly sent away - he didn't fancy working at a desk that had trimwork carvings disturbingly similar to that statue that had been in the Ministry last year), the parlor containing the Black Family Tree (he had very particular plans for that) and the rooms belonging to Sirius and Regulus. The Master Bedroom, in particular, seemed cavernously large with only the bed and nightstand and his new trunk inside it. By the time Harry had finished banishing all of the unwanted furniture from the first three floors - leaving only the attic and the basement - he was alerted to how long he'd been working by signs of fading light outside the window. Harry was startled to come to the conclusion that, without realizing it, he'd worked through the day, skipped lunch, and was in danger of missing the dinner Molly had made him promise to come have. Ginny's threats if he missed dinner served as even firmer motivation, and Harry truthfully wasn't certain which Weasley woman he was scared of angering more. The constant spellwork all day long had left Harry exhausted, however, so he trudged over to the Floo instead of Apparating like he normally would. For all George's jokes, Harry far preferred the squeezing sensation of Apparition over a dizzying spin through the Floo. "The Burrow," he called out absently, stepping in as the green flames erupted. A few spins and a bit of ash in his mouth later, Harry stumbled into the familiar den of the Burrow. The familiar sights (and more importantly, smells) instantly felt like home, and he had to wonder if the feeling he always got coming back here was the same as all children did when returning to their parents' home, or if he simply felt it the more for the lack of ever knowing a place to truly call that. Of course, he admitted, hearing the voices start to carry, that particular feeling probably had something to do with the red-haired girl he saw sitting at the end of the table. Ginny was chattering animatedly to two other people he hadn't been expecting to see. With the three of them here, how could home be anywhere else? "Ron, Hermione!" he called out in surprise, causing three heads to quickly twirl his way. "Harry!" the couple called out at the same time. Hermione was smiling broadly, her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and a definite tan darkened her skin. Ron was darker too, he saw, but mostly from having far more freckles than he usually possessed. He looked no less pleased to see his best mate, however. Harry immediately crossed behind where the two were seated, and draped an arm around each as he leaned over to enfold them both in a hug. "It's good to see you both," he said quietly as he pulled back. The fourth, Molly, looked up quickly from her stove. "Harry, dear, you're home," she commented. "And absolutely knackered too, I see. Sit on down, then, I'll get you some tea while I'm finishing dinner here." "Thanks, Molly," Harry said tiredly while he slipped down into the chair next to Ginny. She smiled as he gave her a quick kiss on the cheek before he sat, but then her expression shifted to a questioning look. "What?" "Oh, sure," Ginny teased, "they get the big greeting, and all I get is a little peck. I see how things are." Harry chuckled. "Sorry, Gin. Been working hard today - like your mum said, I'm completely knackered." "Yeah, we saw the pile of furniture growing when we came in," Ron laughed, grabbing a roll from the bowl in front of him and quickly spreading some butter across it. Harry was amazed to see his friend actually finish chewing before he continued. "Had a bit of a full day, haven't you?" Harry nodded, accepting the teacup Molly handed him with a grateful smile. "Yeah. Got busy - skipped lunch," he noted absently before buttering up a roll for himself. "Harry!" Molly, Ginny, and Hermione all cried simultaneously and began to deliver admonishments over that fact - and each other's voices - and Ron was practically on his side with laughter even as Harry was briefly holding up his palms in gesture of surrender. "It wasn't on purpose - I didn't realize how much time had passed," Harry said in his own defense, even as he looked to Ron for some - any - kind of assistance. He raked his fingers tiredly through his hair. "Don't expect me to bail you out when you drop something like that with all three of them here, mate. You've really got no sense of self-preservation," Ron supplied readily, a smug look on his face. Harry just grunted before trying to change the topic. "When'd you two get in?" "Not very long ago," Hermione replied promptly. "Ten minutes or so." "Everything all right then? Found your parents and everything?" Harry asked, resting his chin against his palm, and trying to focus on his friend as she started answering excitedly. "Yes, we were able to get to Cairns and find them relatively easily..." Hermione began, launching into the story with relish. "The Wizarding community in Australia is so fascinating, because they've mixed so many British traditions with the ancient Aboriginal ones. We actually got to meet an old tribesman when we went out to Ayers Rock - d'you know the land there is even more magical than the land Hogwarts is built on? But he took us into what they call the Dreamtime. It's a - " That was all Harry caught of it though, because he promptly drifted asleep sitting just as he was. He was briefly aware, later, of a familiar pair of smaller hands helping him into his nightclothes, but aside from that, Harry slept quite peacefully. * * * * * Harry awoke the next morning to something he'd never seen - never felt - before. He felt safe, rested, and content. He had his own room at the Burrow now - it had been one of the additions when they'd been rebuilding at the beginning of summer. He was well accustomed to the room now. What he was not accustomed to was the fact that there was someone else in his bed with him. He tensed for a moment at the realization, before the scent of wildflowers and the sight of a familiar head covered in long, red hair nestled against his chest set him at ease. Ginny felt Harry tense under her - the tightness of his muscles could be easily discerned by her own body, given the thin t-shirt and shorts that she was wearing. Then, just as quickly, she felt him relax under her as his hand came up to rest on her back. "Sorry, Harry," she said quietly. "I didn't mean to startle you." "No," Harry replied, his voice uncertain. "No, it's okay; it was just a... umn, a surprise. A nice one, mind." "Oh?" "Yeah. Gin?" "Yeah?" "Why're you in my bed?" Ginny smiled. "Because I was sent to wake you up two hours ago when Mum popped out to get a few things. I rather liked you where you were, and didn't want to pass up the opportunity." "I'm glad you didn't," Harry said softly. "Well, that's convenient, then." Ginny sat up, and closed her eyes as she stretched languidly, lifting her arms above her head and stretching her back until she heard several pops. Letting out her breath, she opened her eyes to find Harry staring at her. "What?" she said, propping her head up on her arm to look at him. "Well..." he murmured, watching appreciatively as she stretched in front of him. "You certainly know how to wake a bloke up, Miss Weasley." "What are you talk... Oh. Oh, sorry," she said, blushing slightly. It was done in all innocence, but now looking back at the gesture, she could see how it would look... particularly inviting when in bed with someone. "So what are your plans for the day?" she asked, moving her hand over to his chest, her voice sounding slightly breathier than normal. Harry brought his arm around her back, and pulled her closer to him. "Well, with you here like this, I tend to forget." "Um," she responded, not really listening to him. Her attention was drawn to the feel of his hand pressing against her back, a pleasant pressure as he drew her closer. Ginny moved her own hand in circles around on his chest, enjoying the feeling of his chest, so solid beneath her hand. She slid her hand underneath his shirt and touched his stomach, the flesh still warm from sleeping. "Come here then, and let me give you a proper 'good morning'," Harry said, and pulled her up to where his face was even with her own. Ginny's lips came up to meet his in a fierce kiss, and thoughts of getting up to face the day were soon gone from the minds of either of them. Neither seemed to be able to get enough of the other and all too soon, instinct was beginning to take over. Ginny's hands were just finished sliding Harry's shirt from off his shoulders when the flash of the Floo from downstairs alerted them to the fact that they were no longer alone. "Harry! Ginny!" came Molly's voice from downstairs. "Come on, then! The others will be meeting us soon!" Ginny flopped back on the bed, still feeling her heart beating faster. For a moment - just a moment - she almost hated her mother and wished her a million kilometers away from them. It was just so damn inconvenient. "Oi," Harry muttered, his head thudding back against the wall. "G'on then - head her off, and I'll be down in a minute. I think I need a cold shower right now. A very, very cold shower." Ginny just laughed at that, and the sound was like music to Harry's ears. She stayed still for a moment, trying to catch her breath and regain her composure. If she stuck her face downstairs right now, her mother would know in a heartbeat that something had been going on. After she collected herself, she turned to glance once more at Harry and the empty, inviting space on the bed, and then hopped up. "Best be off then," she said. She almost started to stretch again, then looked at Harry over her shoulder and decided against it. There'd be time enough for that later. So she settled for a quick kiss, and then darted toward the door and down the stairs before her mother could come up to investigate. * * * * * Over a quick - if late - breakfast, Ginny explained how Harry had fallen asleep so quickly after getting home, resulting in her helping him up into bed the night before. (She neglected to mention helping him into his sleep-clothes - her mother didn't need to know that.) Molly had then proceeded to give him a good fifteen-minute lecture on eating properly and taking breaks instead of doing nonstop spellwork all day and, duly chastised, Harry prepared to set out again for the day. Both Weasley women vanished as he was finishing getting ready. He'd just finished tying up his boots when he looked up to see Ginny and Molly standing in front of him, both changed into old clothes suitable for housework just as he was. "Going somewhere?" he asked pointedly, indicating their change of clothes... Molly crossed her arms and fixed her best 'mother's stare' on him. Her body language made it clear that she was expecting an argument. It was also abundantly clear that she wasn't going to tolerate one. Ginny stood by, failing rather spectacularly in her attempts not to laugh. "Yes," Molly informed him. "We're coming to Grimmauld Place as well, dear. Arthur and the boys are already there. Fleur and Hermione as well, I believe. Hagrid had intended to come as well, but something happened up at Hogwarts this morning - " Harry's head snapped up at this."What happened? Is he okay?" he asked, his voice taking on an urgent tone. "He's fine, dear," Molly supplied with a dismissive shake of her head. "Just something with a new pet of his. Nothing for anyone to worry about. Now, let's be off. We've quite a bit to get done with that old house. I don't know why we never thought of this sooner." Harry sighed in resignation, leaning his head on the back of the couch as he expelled his breath. "It's not that I don't appreciate it, Molly, but, everyone doesn't have to do this. I can handle it my - " Ginny was the one who didn't let him finish this time."Harry," she said sharply, cutting him off. That blazing 'Do Not Argue With Me' look that he was beginning to get to know so very well was back in her eyes again, and he raised his eyebrows at her expectantly. "Shut it," she instructed firmly, dragging him up by his arm. "This is what families do, Harry. Its past time you got used to that." Harry grinned as he gave in, "Who'm I to argue with such a beautiful woman?" "Always thought you were the smartest of the lot, not that I'd admit that to my other boys, of course." Molly observed with a quick pat on his cheek, as Ginny and Harry both grinned broadly. Mrs. Weasley then she led the way to the fireplace, letting out a small huff as she noticed that the Floo powder was nearly out. "Let's be off then. Best to Floo over, since we don't know what that lot's already up to. Last thing we need is to Apparate right into the middle of something." "Too right," Harry agreed quietly as they approached the Floo. He'd been prepared to object, to continue insisting that he didn't need help, but Ginny and Mrs. Weasley had cut that off rather neatly. What surprised him, really, was that he'd never thought of asking them for help remodeling his would-be home - it just hadn't occurred to him that they'd want to. Ginny's right. Its past time I got used to this was the last thought he had as he watched Ginny step into the Floo in front of him. She stopped only to flash him a brief smile and he followed a moment later, bracing himself for the dizziness that was to come. He was not let down, and as Harry stumbled out, Ginny's small hand caught him, pulling him upright. He was suddenly struck with the realization that she'd gone before him just for that purpose. "Here to catch me when I fall, eh?" "Always," she replied sincerely, wrapping herself tightly around him and quick, fierce hug that he was only too happy to return. He felt her face turn up to his, and time seemed to stand still for a moment as they were momentarily lost in each other's eyes. "Bloody hell, mate," came a long-suffering and very welcome sigh. "It's not even like you two've been away from each other for ten seconds. Knock off the mush!" Harry's eyes flashed up to meet Ron's, echoing the happiness shown in his wide grin. Simply put, it was good to have his friend back - not that either man felt the need to say so much in words. "Hey, mate," he said in greeting. "Sorry about last night." "Yeah, well, it happens when you're a great stupid idiot who exhausts himself for no reason," Ron said with a shrug. "Y'could have asked for help, y'know." "So I've been reminded," Harry said with a pointed look at Ginny, who had adopted a very self-satisfied air. The other Weasleys were walking into the den now, having heard the sounds of the Floo and the subsequent conversation. Arthur was first, followed shortly by Hermione, Percy, Bill, Charlie and George. Molly gave her husband a quick kiss and then moved off towards the kitchen even as greetings were passed all around amongst the others. Harry repeatedly thanked everyone for their help, and finally, they began to discuss what to actually do to the house itself. Before Harry outlined his plans for the rest of the house, he pulled Hermione aside for a moment. After a quick hug - and a promise to catch up about Australia later - Harry explained one of the ideas he had, but that he didn't know how to go about it. Hermione's eyes lit up satisfyingly at his request for her to do a little research, and in no time at all she'd vanished down the hall to bury herself in Harry's library. As he looked around, Harry noted that Arthur and Bill were speaking quietly to themselves, discussing ideas for the Den, it sounded like, and Percy was laying a thick stack of parchments that Harry would have sworn looked like Muggle blueprints. He realized the table that Percy was laying the blueprints out on must have been conjured, since he'd gotten rid of all the furniture the day before. George and Charlie were talking animatedly that he couldn't hear, but Ron and Ginny seemed to enjoy greatly. For some reason, that notion made Harry unaccountably nervous. Before long, though, everyone had gathered around the blueprints as Harry started outlining just what he wanted to do to the house. He had a pretty clear mental image, and found himself extremely grateful for the Weasleys' help. Arthur was a genius at Charms, Bill at Transfiguration, and Percy was so organized that Hermione looked like Ron in comparison. Charlie and George were able to offer more creative solutions when something stumped the rest of them, and Ron and Ginny, knowing Harry best, were able to reign in the others when their suggestions got too outlandish. After a few hours of planning and the tossing around of ideas (and more often, the shooting down thereof, in George's case), Harry abruptly realized that Molly he hadn't seen Molly or Fleur in quite some time. "Where's your Mum and Fleur?" he asked, not really directing the question at anyone in specific. "Kitchen," Bill supplied easily as he flattened out the next piece of blue parchment. As he tapped his wand to it, some of the lines began to rearrange themselves. "Fleur was packing up everything in there when you got here, so we can get to work in there first. Never let it be said that Weasleys don't have priorities. Mum's already going on about everything that can be done to it. I know it's your house Harry, but I expect you might just want to let her run loose in there." "Yeah, mate," George supplied. "No one knows how to set up a kitchen better than Mum." Harry considered that thoughtfully. Truthfully, the only thing he knew about the kitchen yet was that he wanted it cleaner and brighter - a bigger window, perhaps.... but Bill was right in that Molly would be happy with a project completely her own. And really, he couldn't possibly end up with a better kitchen than one Molly Weasley would design. He puzzled that over for a moment before turning to face the small redhead at his side. "Gin?" he asked, clearly soliciting her opinion. "Yes?" she said with a curious frown. "Well, it's your house too," Harry stated, as though that much was obvious. Unfortunately, he hadn't thought through the implications of such a statement, and continued on before he realized he'd said anything odd. "I don't really have any ideas for the kitchen. Do you? Or d'you reckon it's safe to just turn your mum loose?" All conversation in the room stopped. Ginny was staring up at him with an expression of naked shock, with fair bits of astonishment and surprise mixed in as well. Ron was covering his eyes with a single hand, and looked to be very tightly controlling the rest of his expression. Bill, Charlie, Percy and George had mixed expressions varying degrees of surprise. The only one who didn't seem in any way surprised or shocked was Arthur, who instead looked very much as though he was trying very, very hard as to keep from laughing outright. "What?" Harry finally asked, trying to figure out why everyone was suddenly staring at him. From the change in their expressions, Ginny, Ron and Arthur were the first to figure out that Harry really, truly didn't realize what he'd just said - or really, what he'd implied. Arthur was trying even harder to keep from laughing now - there was no need to embarrass the lad any further. "Harry, is there perhaps something that you and Ginny haven't told the rest of us?" he gently hinted. Harry was still frowning, and trying to figure out what he'd said, when Ginny, finally recovered enough from her own astonishment, came to his rescue. She took his hand in her own, and moved her head close to him so that only he could hear. "Harry," she whispered quietly. "You said this was my house, too." "Right," he acknowledged, still not following. "I thought that was obvious. Whatever's mine is yours, right? Isn't that how this works?" Ron snorted, having regained his equilibrium. "Only when you're married, mate," he explained quickly, before one of his brothers could start the inevitable teasing. "Oh," Harry said numbly, horror dawning on him as everything finally clicked. He started to flush a deep red in embarrassment as feelings of panic and extreme mortification began to set in and he turned towards Ginny. "Oh. I'm - ah, I'm - sorry," he stammered quickly. "I didn't mean - not like - I'm not saying that - " Ginny's eyes flashed dangerously at that point. "AND I'm not saying I don't want that!" Harry amended quickly. "I'm not - uh - opposed to it, that is, I think I do want to marry you, Gin, I think - I don't know - I just, I shouldn't have assumed, I didn't think before I said - oh, hell!" He finally finished, and feeling like a complete fool, rushed out of the room before anyone could possibly stop him, or he possibly embarrassed himself any further. He fled in panic to the first room he could think of - the drawing room, it ended up being - and slammed the door behind him. Harry turned towards the nearest wall. Staring back at him was the Black Family Tree, with it's long, pureblood-obsessed family history, and the scorch-marks indicating those who'd managed to become 'blood-traitors' by actually being decent people. By reflex, he found the marks indicating Sirius, Andromeda and Tonks - and noted with satisfaction that new names had appeared to include Remus and Teddy. The dates of death of his godfather and the last of the Marauders stared back at him in stark contrast, reminding him, taunting him blatantly with the family he no longer had. Seeing Teddy's name on there was a stark reminder to him of the family that he did. After a moment, Harry began to slowly pound his head against the ratty old tapestry. The repeated thumps were actually fairly soothing, and if he couldn't use his brain for anything intelligently, a hammer seemed as good a purpose as any. He was faintly aware of the sounds of discussion coming from down the hall, and could dimly hear Ginny's and Ron's voices carrying over the others, though he couldn't tell at all what was being said. Stupid, Potter. That was really, amazingly, astoundingly stupid. Where had that come from? Marriage? He hadn't even thought before the words had come out. He'd pictured it often enough, sure - a happy life afterwards with Ginny for many years to come. That prospect had sustained him, a faint hope this whole long year but - they weren't there yet, were they? They'd only really truly been together a few months, how could they possibly - how could he have been so stupid as to let something like that slip out? Ginny loved him, yes, he knew that - but did she love him that much? And he loved her, but he didn't have any real experience with that. Was he in love with her that much? Was that what it meant, the way he felt whenever she was around - and especially when she wasn't? Was marriage even a possibility? Wasn't he too young to even be thinking of that? And to slip up like that in front of her brothers! George was never, ever going to let him forget it! His head began to spin as his thoughts began chasing themselves around in his brain. Breathe, idiot. Harry sank down softly, his back to the tapestry he'd just been pounding his head against, and cradled his head in his hands as he tried to sort out everything he was feeling at the moment. It was such a confused jumble of embarrassment, of shame, but beneath that, of... hope? Of possibilities? Was this how he really felt, then? Merlin, I'm not even eighteen! But that statement - calling his own home Ginny's... It had felt so right. So natural. So true that it had never even occurred to him, Harry, who was so guarded with his emotions, to even censor himself. The words had come out... as easy as breathing. I want to marry her. I want Ginny Weasley to be my wife. The realization hit Harry like being struck simultaneously with a dozen stunners. But he knew, somehow, in a way that he couldn't put to words or possibly explain that feeling was true. He did love Ginny that much, and his feelings of aimlessness and restlessness and the real reason for them over the last few months abruptly came into sharp focus. He saw a mental image of his holding Teddy close while Ginny teasingly played with his Godson, in the bright summer sunshine at the Burrow a few weeks ago. That was what was missing, and what he wanted. He wanted a career, yes, but - he wanted a home. And he wanted it with her. But they were so young! That would be everyone's first objection, and to be fair, it wasn't a bad one. And marriage - that was huge, that was permanent. You couldn't go back on that. And Ginny - what did she think? Did she feel that way, that strongly for him? Could she possibly? She'd waited while he was gone, all year. Ginny understood him, like no one else ever had, or ever would, he thought. That meant something, right? But what if she wasn't ready for that either? Was he, really? Was it even something she wanted? She couldn't possibly, not after the way he'd left... but... but she'd taken him back, too, hadn't she? There's no way we're ready for this, he told himself firmly, and the rational part of his brain knew exactly why that was true. But is there anything you really want more? came the other part of his brain that just wouldn't shut up. "Bollocks," Harry said aloud, and started pounding the back of his head on the wall again. * * * * * Ginny and Ron both started to rush after Harry as soon he was gone from the room, each instinctively understanding why Harry was so embarrassed. Both knew how guarded and private he was about his own emotions, and just how embarrassing he would find slipping up about something so deeply personal to be. Their way was blocked, however, by the three of the four eldest Weasley brothers, all of whom had their own questions. Arthur's expression was still one of quiet amusement, tinged with some concern at how rapidly Harry had left the room. He understood, he thought, what was going on more than any of them (Ron and Ginny aside), except for perhaps Bill, who'd adopted a pensive expression. Arthur could see his eldest was working through the entire situation in his mind before saying anything, a habit he wished some of his other sons would adopt as well. "When were you going to tell us?" Charlie asked with a frown. He wasn't entirely displeased - there was some amusement in his features - but he seemed to have entirely missed any of the subtext. That wasn't surprising - Charlie was even more straightforward than Ron in that way, and tended to take everything at absolute face value. "There was nothing to tell, Charlie!" Ginny said hotly, still attempting to get past him. "Now, Ginevra, I'm quite certain you're very fond of young Harry, but you know that you're both far too young-" Percy was volunteering, even as George was rushing forward to embrace his youngest sibling. "Fond?!" Ginny stopped at that, and there was a dangerous fire in her eyes as she twirled on the most 'proper' of her brothers. Ron laid a restraining arm on hers as she reached for her wand, stopping her from hexing Percy the way she really wanted to. "Fond?! I love him, you prat, not that you could possibly understand that. And what we decide to do or don't do - " "Is bloody brilliant, is what it is!" George roared in approval, lifting his sister up off the ground and twirling her around in a bear hug before she could object. The others were all clamoring back and forth to each other now, and the noise had drawn Hermione from the library and Molly and Fleur in from the kitchen as well. George finally set Ginny down, who was immediately stuck trying to extract herself from the questions of her other brothers. Ron immediately moved in to try to help her - he'd already figured the whole thing out, and was busily trying to explain, just as Ginny was, but no one could possibly be understood in all the noise with almost the entire family talking over each other. "What the devil is going on here?" the matriarch of the Weasley clan asked imperiously, her hands on her hips. "Harry and Ginny are getting married!" George roared, once again clearly in favor of the notion. "WHAT?!" Molly screeched, even as Hermione's eyes went wide with shock, and Fleur took on an all-knowing expression. Arthur was immediately rushing to his wife, hoping to head off the coming explosion - "Well, of course zey are," Fleur commented, as though such a thing was abundantly obvious. And that set them all off again. "SHUT UP, EVERYONE!" the littlest Weasley finally roared, red sparks shooting from the wand she had pointed at the ceiling, and silence immediately descended on the room. "Harry and I are not getting married! Or maybe we are! I don't know! We haven't even talked about it! Harry made one little slip with something he said, and you've all jumped to conclusions, and now he's horribly embarrassed and has run off to hide, and I can't even go to him because I've got to sort you all out!" She fixed a firm stare on Charlie, Percy, and George, who were standing in front of the new doorway Harry had made only yesterday, and through which he'd fled not minutes before. "Now move," she said, still fingering her wand rather obviously, "Before I've got to hex every last one of you. I need to see Harry before he manages to make himself feel any worse." "Ginny, dear," Molly interrupted, doing her best not to sound harsh. "I really think you should explain - " "Ron?" Ginny said in a flat voice, even as Charlie, Percy and George were getting the hell out of the way. She'd seen the expression on Ron's face and heard him arguing with Percy, and knew, at least, that her brother understood. If he kept up behaviour like this, she supposed, he was going to quickly surpass Bill as her favorite. "G'on, Ginny," he acknowledged. "I'll sort it all out." "Thank you," she said calmly, and followed Harry's path down the bare hallway. * * * "Harry?" came the soft question as the door creaked open, drawing Harry's head up finally from his hands. Ginny was looking at him with an expression of soft compassion, and Harry suspected he rather looked like he felt - bewildered, embarrassed, and extremely, extremely confused. "Uh... Hey, Gin," he said weakly as she came in, closing the door swiftly behind her. His eyes only met hers for a second before he pointed them back firmly at the floor. Harry found that couldn't bring himself to look at her right now, to see the rejection he expected in her eyes, the shame - or would it be anger? - that he'd be so presumptuous - "Harry, look at me," Ginny said firmly. She was on her knees now, with her face only bare inches from his own. When he simply shook his head, Ginny's mouth set itself into a line and she instead resorted to alternative measures. Her hand quickly closed itself around his chin, lifting it up, and before Harry knew it, she was sitting on him and giving him one of the most passionate kisses of his life. When she finally drew back, Harry was breathless, and all thought had emptied itself from his mind. "Wow," he finally said, rather lamely. "Thought that'd get your attention," she replied saucily, pleased that he was meeting her eyes now. She was willing him to see that she wasn't angry or upset - or certainly not at him, at any rate, and she saw the dawning light in his own that suggested that the message was received. In hers, he saw that satisfaction, and the warm twinkle that was so responsible for making him want to stay this close, forever. "It worked," he acknowledged with a chuckle. They sat like that in silence for a few moments, their arms wrapped around each other, Ginny waiting patiently for him to get his thoughts together. She knew he would want to speak first, and before long, her patience was rewarded. "Gin - I am so sorry for that." She cocked her head. "For what? Running from my family? It's understandable. There's quite a lot of them. It's hard to explain anything properly with all of them nattering like mandrakes." "No, not that - "he started, and then amended his statement."Well, for abandoning you to them, yes. I was so embarrassed... I just didn't want to look at them. But... I was mostly scared of what you were going to say. I didn't mean to say something like that, I don't know why I'm such a great idiot, to just blurt something like that out - " She silenced him with a single finger across his lips."Harry James Potter. Don't you dare apologize. You were being honest about how you felt - which, let's face it, is a pretty big deal." "Gin," he confessed. "I don't know how I feel. I didn't realize that I felt it that much before, and it scares the hell out of me that you might not feel the same, or that I do... Merlin, I don't even know what I'm saying at this point, and I sure as hell don't know what any of it means. But... I do mean it. I love you, Gin." Now it was Ginny's turn to be embarrassed, and she flushed a deep shade of Weasley red. "You do?" she finally asked weakly, the nervous little girl shining through her normal personality, usually so calm and self-assured. "We've said it, I know, but I still thought, that, maybe..." "I do," he confirmed, feeling his confidence growing. "I love you, Gin. I might not be sure of anything else in my life right now - but that, that I'm sure of." "Wow," she finally said, her own voice lame. They sat in silence again as Ginny's own emotions whirled. "Harry, I - " "Gin, you don't have to - " "Shut up and let me finish, Potter." "Yes, ma'am." Ginny took a deep breath, and settled her own hands against his chest, trying to think her way through her words. When that wasn't working, she finally spoke from the heart. "I do love you, Harry. Very much. And I never imagined you felt as strongly for me as I do for you - I hoped, yes, and I'd be lying to say that I haven't had fantasies about us being married ever since I was a little girl. But this isn't fantasies, Harry - this is our lives. We can't rush this." "Luv," he finally said softly as one hand tucked some free-floating locks back behind her ear before he drew her closer to him. "I agree, I really do. I don't know what to think about all of it. It's - it's all new to me, you know? And when I said that, earlier, about this being your home - our home - it just felt so right and natural..." he cut himself off. "I'm not saying this properly. I don't know what these feelings mean. I need - we need - time to sort all of that out. So I'm not proposing or anything - " Yet, that little voice said before he could shut it up. "I understand, Harry, really. I love you, I really, truly do - but - we're not ready for that. We're too young," Ginny said quickly, surprised at the admission coming from her own lips. The way her lips quirked suggested to Harry that she completely understood the irony of Ginny being the first to suggest that she was too young for anything. "No, we're not," he agreed. "We both know what we feel, then, but... we've not really been together that long, Gin. I feel sure, it feels right, and I think you do too, but - " "But we need to know," she agreed. And at her words, both realized that within themselves, in their heart of hearts, that they did know, and that someday, they'd have this conversation again, and that it would end quite differently. And both knew that it wasn't time yet. "So not yet?" Harry asked, though the question was pointless. Ginny's eyes glittered as she got closer once more. "Not yet," she confirmed breathlessly, with a voice full of unspoken promises. In silent agreement that they'd done all the talking that was needed, the couple drew together and proceeded to snog each other senseless on the drawing room for what felt like forever. Unfortunately, (or perhaps fortunately, as the drawing room floor, with all of Ginny's family just down the hall, was hardly the place to take their relationship to a new level) their time was not as uninterrupted as they would have liked, and they were interrupted by a series of knocks on the door that Ginny recognized as belonging to her parents. "Bugger." |
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