Hugest thanks for my beta goingbacktosquareone. I think between the two of us we made sense out of my utter dribble.
Thanks to Phoness for the French!
Chapter 33 may be delayed. I have much uni work to complete at the end of semester and well ... Ginny has this crazy idea that she doesn't have to tell me what's on her mind. She is being very stubborn and withholding things from me. As a result the chapter is probably going to be some time while I stick her on the couch for some therapy.
Anyway, enjoy 32!
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Rebuilding Life | ||||||
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Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:All Genres: General, Humor, Romance Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 1776 Summary: Harry has defeated Voldemort but is going back to his life going to be easy? What will he go back to, the life he once had is meaningless now. It's time to build a new one and to create a new post-Voldemort world. Ginny is there waiting for him, what do they need to do to rebuild their lives? Hitcount: Story Total: 580273; Chapter Total: 14472 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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They were Muggle photographs. Old black and white studio shots on stiff cardstock, flimsy, faded snapshots and Polaroids filled with cheesy smiles and silly faces. Harry tentatively reached out a hand and picked up a photograph of a cherubic baby who smiled statically at the camera. It was the baby in the photo at Aunt Petunia’s. It was Lily. “This is my mum,” whispered Harry. Ginny peered at the photo in his hands. “You’ve got her eyes,” she said softly. Harry smiled softly. “I know,” he whispered, gazing at the picture. “They must have had a family photo session,” commented Ginny, shuffling through the pictures and pulling out two more stiff photos. One was a copy of the picture Harry had seen at Aunt Petunia’s and one had those same two little girls seated on the laps of a sweet looking plump woman and a thin, angular man who was grinning from ear to ear. His eyes matched those of his daughter perched carefully on his lap. Harry felt his eyes grow wet as he reached out to trace the man’s features. “These must be my grandparents,” he said. “I have my grandfather’s eyes.” “Harry,” Ginny said tentatively after a moment. Harry sniffed and wiped his eyes hastily before he looked up at Ginny and gave her half a smile. “Didn’t — didn’t you know that before?” Harry shook his head absently as he laid the group of photographs next to him on the bed. “They died before I was born,” he said, picking up a small snapshot of a laughing toddler. “I never met them.” “But in their photos,” Ginny persisted anxiously. Harry turned the photo over and read the inscription scrawled on the back in smudged lead pencil ‘ily, 12 mos fi’. “Oh, I wasn’t allowed to look at the photo albums,” he said almost carelessly. “Hey, look, maybe these were her first steps.” He showed the photo to Ginny, his eyes sparkling half with unshed tears and half with excitement. “Never?” was all Ginny replied, gazing at him sadly. Harry reached out a hand to caress her face. He shook his head. “They were too precious and none of my business,” he said softly. “Unless I had to dust them. I don’t think I even knew what they were for a long time. Dudley was looking at one once and I saw enough to realise they had photos in them but …” Harry shrugged as he trailed off and returned his attention to the photographs from the envelope. He pulled photograph after photograph from the pile, tracing the features of the chubby baby, smiling toddler and slender child that would become his mother. In some shots she played with her sister and in a few she lay cradled in her mother’s arms or hoisted onto her father’s shoulders. There were only about twenty and only a couple were of a child older than eleven. As he shuffled through the pictures Harry found a bright splash of colour. It was a Polaroid of Lily sitting in front of a gaily decorated Christmas tree, her hair tied back from her face. Next to her was a young man with impossibly messy dark hair wearing spectacles. “Look, it’s my mum and dad,” he whispered. “They must have been about seventeen.” “They look so happy,” said Ginny a little wistfully. Harry looked carefully at the photograph. Harry looked carefully at the photograph. He didn’t recognise the place it had been taken. The couch behind his parents had a garish floral pattern on it that he could never imagine Aunt Petunia perched on. Lily and James were sitting on a Chudley Canon Orange shag pile rug strewn with crumpled wrapping paper. The flash had reflected off his father’s glasses and he could see his parents’ hands entwined and resting on his mother’s knee. It was there he saw it; a tiny sparkle on his mother’s left hand. There was a little box in his father’s other hand. He glanced back up at the impossibly wide grins on both their faces and he turned to Ginny excitedly. “I think this is their engagement photograph,” he said. “Look.” Ginny inspected the photograph and smiled softly. “He must have asked her at Christmas,” Harry mused. “They look so young.” “Sirius said they got married pretty much straight away,” Ginny said, looking thoughtful. “Do you think they were still in Hogwarts here? Home for Christmas?” Harry nodded. “At my mum’s house I think, the photograph is Muggle,” he answered. He turned it over. “There’s no date on the back, no writing.” Harry frowned slightly. He shrugged and looked at the photograph once more before carefully shuffling them all together. “I wonder where their wedding pictures are,” Ginny murmured. “I don’t know,” said Harry. “I’ve only seen one. It's in my album. I think it came from Remus. AUnt Petunia certainly never had any.” “Oh, Harry, I’m sorry,” Ginny said and her hand flew to her mouth. “I — I didn’t think.” Harry stopped filing the photographs back into the parchment envelope long enough to lay one hand gently on her knee. “It’s okay,” he said, “really.” Ginny reached out a hand to stop him putting the photograph in front of the Christmas tree back in the envelope. “Wait,” she said as she got her wand out. She riffled through her pockets and extracted a bent quill. Concentrating very hard, she muttered a quick incantation transfiguring it into a photo frame and slipped the picture inside. She then turned and moved aside the Potions text book and several quills to place the picture on Harry’s nightstand. “Thank you,” said Harry softly as he felt tears gather in the corners of his eyes again. He then let Ginny kiss them away as they took their time saying goodnight. *************** The week passed slowly. Harry had more free time while Ginny and Hermione were in Astronomy; although Hermione encouraged him to do some research and handed him several thick tomes about werewolves, Harry somehow ended up down at Hagrid’s place playing with Dora. Harry came back to the castle covered in muddy paw prints; the books lay untouched in the common room. Hermione frowned at him and Ginny giggled. Professor Thistlewaite had not appeared noticeably more comfortable around Harry and by the second lesson of the week Harry decided to sit at the very back because it was clear no one would learn anything if the Professor kept transfiguring tableware into commemorative Harry Potter plates. Harry was sure that Seamus had started doing it to every plate Harry used in the Great Hall but had been unable to catch him in the act. Harry spent the week eating off his own face and glaring at Seamus who always smiled back serenely. Double Muggle Studies had degenerated into a Monopoly game no one wanted to stop playing. Draco Malfoy had proved surprisingly good at it and Harry had never seen anything quite as unexpected as Neville Longbottom cheering when Malfoy cleaned Dean out entirely. Most of the classes had been uneventful and life became a pattern of attending classes, completing homework and snogging Ginny while on patrol to catch errant students out of bed. Hermione had rolled her eyes when Harry changed her perfectly organised patrol schedule to ensure he partnered Ginny, but Harry suspected she’d rostered him with Dennis and Ginny with Neville deliberately just to see if he would change it because he caught her smirking as she rolled it up and stowed it in her bag after the Prefect’s meeting. By the time Friday came around Harry was growing bored and restless. He was itching to do something … exciting. At the morning break, after he’d spent more time than he cared to smiling stiffly at a fawning Slughorn and an excruciatingly polite Malfoy, Harry pulled Ginny aside. “I’m going to see if I can go visit Ron,” he said. Ginny scowled at him. “He’s coming tomorrow,” she protested. “Well, I’ll be back tonight,” said Harry, taken aback by her uncharacteristic sullenness. “But you can’t wait until tomorrow,” Ginny muttered. “I thought I might go and see Lavender,” Harry explained quietly. “Well, you don’t need my permission,” snapped Ginny, crossing her arms across her chest. “I wasn’t asking for it,” Harry pointed out snidely, confused and more than a little put out by her attitude. Ginny said nothing more and stalked away. Harry stomped down to Hagrid feeling more than a little out-of-sorts and was annoyed to find that Hagrid didn’t seem to care. It was almost as if he was distracted by something. “I don’t get it,” Harry said as they reached the gates. “She’s never been so possessive of my time.” “All right Harry,” Hagrid said, glancing backwards and pushing Harry out of the gate so hard that he stumbled in the roadway, “let us know when ye’re comin’ back. I best get back to me … er, I’d best be getting back anyhow.” Hagrid had turned and lumbered back to his hut as fast as he could. Harry shook his head. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know and he turned and Disapparated, still disgruntled at Ginny and irritated that Hagrid didn’t seem to care. Harry probably pushed the door to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes open harder than was strictly necessary and stomped inside a little louder than was warranted. Ron looked up and scowled at him. “What’s up your nose?” he asked. Harry threw himself into the chair behind the counter and just grunted. “Ah,” said George suddenly appearing out of thin air, “women.” He nodded sagely. “Stop doing that,” whined Ron. “Do you have to Apparate everywhere just because you can?” “Little brother,” said George serenely. “You appear to be emulating our dear mother.” “Where have you been anyway, you git?” Ron grumbled. “You’ve been gone for days and not even an Owl!” “Shhhh, not now, Ronald,” said George. “Harrikins looks a little stressed.” Ron made a rude gesture behind George as his older brother turned to Harry and put a finger thoughtfully on his chin. He stood there for a while, his head tilted to the side watching Harry who began to squirm under his intense gaze. “What?” Harry asked uncomfortably, when he could stand it no longer. “Oh, nothing, nothing,” said George airily as he turned to straighten some already straight shelves in an extremely exaggerated manner. There was silence for a moment while George tidied shelves that were already as neat as a pin and Ron dusted the window display that wasn’t dusty. Harry sighed heavily. “I didn’t do anything,” he said plaintively. George chuckled and Ron snorted. “No, seriously,” said Ron, leaning on the counter. “What did you do?” Harry crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Ron. “Nothing,” he said, “why are you assuming it was me? I didn’t do anything!” “Maybe that’s the problem,” muttered George with a smirk. Harry gave him a withering stare. “Ginny got stroppy because …” he trailed off and sighed. “I have no idea.” George shook his head sagely. “Best not to try and figure it out,” he said. “Not this week,” added Ron. Harry shook his head resignedly. “I have no idea what you are on about,” he grumbled. George leaned towards him with an unholy gleam in his eye. “Maybe she wants you to do something,” he suggested in such a lecherous manner that Harry recoiled reflexively. “Ewwwww, George!” hissed Ron. “This is Ginny we’re talking about!” “Yeah and my Galleons are on before Christmas,” George deadpanned. “This is protecting my investment.” “She needed chocolate this week anyway,” said Ron. George frowned before his face cleared and he nodded. “What has chocolate got to do with anything?” asked Harry, exasperated. “You have no idea, do you?” asked George pityingly. He clapped a hand on Harry’s shoulder and leaned in close. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Chocolate becomes a necessity; no indeed, it becomes a lifesaver during the time a witch experiences … mood swings,” he explained. “Mood swings?” repeated Harry. George nodded. “Chocolate tames the savage beast within,” he intoned. “Never, ever say that to them,” Ron interjected, “ever.” “You did give her chocolate, didn’t you?” asked George urgently. “Yeah, if you count chocolate frogs,” snickered Ron. George stared at Harry aghast. “Next month you need to do better than that,” he said. “I recommend some of Honeyduke’s finest, fashioned into handmade balls and filled with the tantalising taste of summer berries and caramel.” “Oh and that’s your weapon of choice, is it?” snorted Ron. George shrugged. “Fred swore by them,” he said. Ron just gave George a funny look. “Next month?” Harry questioned, the phrase tumbling through his mind, tickling at his conscience. He furrowed his brow trying to capture the ideas that were flitting in and out and teasing him as if to say he wasn’t quite good enough to know the secret. “To satisfy the monthly visitor,” Ron said at last. He shuddered and looked as though Aunt Muriel had just decided to visit - permanently. “Demanding beast.” Harry gaped at Ron. “That’s what the chocolate was for?” he asked weakly. Ron nodded. “And that means you’ve got about a week to hone the rest of your skills,” mused George. “Would you stop encouraging him!” Ron shouted. “Oh come on! Someone has to protect his interests,” said George. “Ginny’s got three other brothers to defend her honour. I’m on his side! You’re his best mate, you should be too!” Ron snorted. “Okay, I don’t need to talk about this with you two!” Harry shuddered and stood up. “Now, I thought I might go and see Lavender.” “Well I hope you have better luck than Bill,” said Ron, suddenly sober. “He went to talk to her and he reckons she sort of took one look at him and dived into the Floo.” “Yeah, but he’s Harry Potter,” said George cheekily. Harry gave him a withering look as he strode towards the door. “I guess we’ll find out,” Harry muttered grasping the door handle and yanking it open. “If it doesn’t work,” called George, “we’ll take her some of Honeyduke’s finest handmade balls of chocolate filled with the tantalising taste of summer berries and caramel.” Harry strode over and pushed open the door to Parvati and Lavender’s shop and was overwhelmed with the heady scents of tea and incense. Parvati was sitting on a large ottoman in the middle of the store, a crystal ball sat on a small lace draped table in front of her and she was peering into it while Lavender sat on the other side in an overstuffed pink armchair. “Are you sure that’s what you can see?” Lavender said anxiously. Parvati nodded. “There’s no wolves in it?” Parvati sighed. “No,” she said, “there are no wolves.” “There are,” muttered Lavender looking into the small fireplace that was belching alternate red and purple flames. “There are wolves in my future I just know it.” “None of the Divination methods we have tried in the last three months have ever indicated wolves,” said Parvati impatiently. “Well, maybe you’re not doing them right,” snapped Lavender. She drew her legs up to her chest and to Harry she looked very small and frail curled up in the large, overstuffed armchair. She was thin and pale and her hair hung lankly about her face. Her eyes were dull and listless and she looked, for the first time since Harry had known her, as if she was wearing last season’s robes. “You don’t have to be afraid,” Parvati tried again. “There are no wolves, no werewolves.” “I can’t help it, he’s still out there,” Lavender cried. “What if he comes back to finish the job? What if he brings friends? They could get you, too!” Parvati shrugged wearily as if they had this conversation every day. “The werewolves aren’t even organised anymore,” she said. “Greyback’s a fugitive with a price on his head. He couldn’t show his face around here without being captured.” “I don’t see any Aurors patrolling,” said Lavender bitterly. “Who? Who’s going to catch him?” “Ron, probably,” said Parvati. Lavender snorted softly. “I’m serious. He’s right over there-” Parvati turned to gesture across the street and stopped abruptly as she spotted Harry standing awkwardly in the doorway. “Sorry, I just … well … hello,” Harry stammered. “Harry!” gasped Parvati, standing up and crossing swiftly to give Harry a brief hug which he attempted unsuccessfully to return. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at Hogwarts?” “I was, I am,” said Harry. “I had some things to do.” Lavender, who had been silent until then, suddenly uncurled herself and stood up. She looked scared and Harry wondered if she was about to dive into the Floo. “Why did Bill Weasley come the other day?” she asked softly. “He wanted to see how you were,” Harry guessed wildly. “We’ve heard you’ve been under the weather.” Lavender laughed a short, bitter laugh. “Yeah, I guess that’s one way of putting it,” she said, “seriously, why him? He doesn’t even know me and he’s scary.” “We’re concerned,” Harry said. “Bill wanted to talk to you because he, he-” “Because he got attacked by a werewolf too?” asked Lavender. “Did he want to compare stories? Compare scars?” “Bill’s not like that-” “Everybody’s like that!” Lavender screeched suddenly. “Everybody wants to know about my scars, what they look like, how I feel. Well I’ll tell you Harry Potter, I feel scared. I feel ugly and I feel like any day now they’re going to come back; come back and finish it off!” She stood hands clenched and face flushed. “Well I’m scared too,” said Harry quietly. “Scared they are going to take away my godson.” Lavender looked at him in confusion. “Your godson?” she echoed blankly. “Who’s your godson?” “Teddy Lupin,” answered Harry. “Professor Lupin’s son.” “Why would anyone take him away?” Lavender looked confused. “You don’t know, do you?” questioned Harry. Lavender shook her head. “Know what?” she asked exasperatedly. “I never even met the kid. I didn’t even know Professor Lupin had a son.” “His name is Teddy and he’s a metamorphmagus like his mother,” said Harry. “He’s nearly six months old, favours turquoise hair and is cutting his first tooth. He lives with his grandmother because his parents were both killed in the battle at Hogwarts.” “What has all that got to do with me?” “Teddy isn’t a werewolf,” said Harry quietly, “but they still want to take him away because his father was one.” “Well that’s ridiculous,” scoffed Lavender. “Who would do that? Why would they? And why are you telling me all this?” “There’s a Ministry worker in the Department for the Care and Control of Magical Creatures who is trying to pass legislation to control werewolves,” said Harry. He hadn’t moved from the doorway and watched as Lavender came a few steps closer. The meagre light from the veiled window threw her face into stark relief and Harry could see the bones standing out sharply, casting shadows and making her look almost skeletal. “You just said he’s not a werewolf,” challenged Lavender. “The legislation is meant to cover more than just actual werewolves,” explained Harry. “To protect the general public, it is to cover anyone who is a descendant of or has been attacked by a werewolf.” Lavender stared at him silently. Suddenly she reached hand up and wrenched at her robes, pulling them aside jerkily and ripping the neckline to expose three jagged slashes that tore across her left shoulder and ran down her arm and chest, disappearing below the folds of her torn robes. They were not quite healed, a smaller replica of Bill’s, and what looked like teeth marks appeared to be mingled with the scars near her collarbone. “Attacked like this?” she spat. Harry swallowed heavily and nodded. “I suspect just like that,” he said. “Lav,” moaned Parvati. “Who?” Lavender asked harshly. “Who wants to do this?” “Moses Brown,” answered Harry. “Uncle Moses?” Lavender repeated weakly, her robes still hanging limply from her left arm. She sat down abruptly on a nearby loveseat and stared blankly at the wall. “Why would he do this to me?” “Well he’s trying to protect you,” began Harry but stopped abruptly when Lavender began laughing hysterically. Parvati hurried over to her, murmuring soothing words and tried to pull her robes back into place. Lavender shook her off; gestured her arms wildly, her left arm moving stiffly. “He’s not trying to protect me!” she cried. “He hates me! He always has!” “Well that’s what he said,” Harry protested. “You are taking everything hard. He wants you to get better so if the werewolves are all controlled they can’t possibly come and get you.” “He’s lying! Don’t you see?” Lavender hissed, stilling her movements and staring at Harry. “He knows it will mean locking me up too, and then I can’t turn on him. We’re all living in the same house right now, Uncle Moses, my cousins, my parents and I. Aunt Josephine was killed at the start of the year, just after Christmas when their house was torched. Uncle Moses was at the Ministry and the children were with my mum that day but my Aunt and the house … gone. “So they moved in with us. I was still at school but mum sent me an Owl. Elspeth is starting Hogwarts next year and Moses junior is still only six. Uncle Moses wants to move out but he doesn’t know how he’ll go to work and care for them. Mum looks after the children so Uncle Moses doesn’t have to find paid help. We have heaps of room but he insists on them all sleeping in the same room and he locks the door at night. Mum and Dad have told him he’s welcome to stay as long as he likes, but he can’t afford anything right now. The cost of magical construction is pretty high and insurance payments aren’t coming through very fast. “He’s terrified of me Harry! He thinks I’m going to go crazy on the full moon and turn them all into werewolves! Dad tried to tell me Uncle Moses was just concerned when I woke up the other night yelling and screaming, but I could see him — he had fear in his eyes, Harry! He thought I was turning into a werewolf. I wasn’t. I was running from them in my nightmares.” “So … you didn’t know about this?” Harry sank down onto the loveseat next to Lavender. She shook her head. “No,” she whispered. “I didn’t know he’d moved from locking himself up to locking me up. Doesn’t he understand what we fought for?” “I guess not,” said Parvati softly. Lavender turned beseeching eyes on Harry. “You can’t let him do this,” she pleaded. “You have to do something.” “Hermione’s researching now,” nodded Harry. “We’ve got about a week until the next hearing of the matter before the Wizengamot.” “Hermione,” Lavender smiled softly. “She saved me you know. I heard her throw that … that monster off me. I thought she hated me.” “No,” Harry protested. “She …” “Oh don’t be silly, Harry,” Lavender laughed, a soft giggle that sounded more like the Lavender Harry had known for years and not the terrified shell of a girl sitting next to him. “I knew how she felt about Ron and she knows I did and I went after him anyway. I was determined to be better than her in just one thing ... well two things really, as I’m sure she still has … issues with her hair. We all knew everybody’s romantic secrets.” “Well it wasn’t exactly a secret how Hermione and Ron felt about each other,” said Parvati. Harry snorted. “She never admitted it though, did she?” contested Lavender. “Not to any of the boys. I bet she didn’t even tell Harry!” “I’m sure they all knew,” said Parvati. “None of them are quite as dense as that.” “Yes, well it probably took them longer to figure it out than us,” Lavender asserted with some authority. “Hey!” exclaimed Harry. “I knew! I knew in … um … definitely by sixth year.” Parvati rolled her eyes at him. “About three years later than the rest of us,” she said. “It took me ages to convince Padma to go to the Yule Ball with him. You are lucky I had a minor crush on you, Harry Potter, or we would have turned you both down!” Harry stared at her in shock. “You what?” he asked weakly. Lavender burst into peals of laughter. “Padma was going to ask Neville, but he asked Ginny so she decided not to go at all,” Parvati explained. “I saw you mooning after Cho, so I wasn’t about to embarrass myself by asking you. We were going to boycott the ball entirely. Then you asked me and I was just so desperate to go with you I had to talk Padma into going with Ron because we all knew he was carrying a torch for Hermione.” “Didn’t Padma want to go with Justin?” asked Lavender. “When did she decide to ask Neville?” “No, she wanted to go with Zacharias,” said Parvati rolling her eyes, “had a dreadful crush on him. I was ever so glad when she got over him. Could you imagine having him for a brother-in-law? I’ll tell you who did ask her though — Blaise Zabini.” “No!” gasped Lavender. “She never told us that!” “Well, she wouldn’t would she? A Slytherin asking her to the Ball; I mean who’d want to admit that?” “Well at least it wasn’t those two who kept hanging around Malfoy!” “Oh puh-lease!” scoffed Parvati fluttering a hand at Lavender. “Those two were as gay as the day is long.” “Please,” said Harry plaintively, “you are making my head hurt. I thought Padma wanted to go with Neville?” “Oh no, she wanted to go with Zacharias,” stated Parvati expertly as she sat next to Harry on the loveseat, effectively wedging him in the middle. “See, she wanted to go with Zacharias but she had such a crush on him that she couldn’t possibly ask him so she thought about Justin for a while, but he took … um, Susan or Hannah or somebody; some Hufflepuff.” She dismissed it with a wave of her hand. “So why ask Neville?” asked Harry, entirely confused. “To make Zacharias jealous, of course,” said Lavender. “But she waited too long and all the good ones were taken.” Harry snorted. “Except you and Ron,” added Parvati. “She refused, utterly refused at first. I had to beg her.” “I’m not going with that arse,” Lavender said, in a high pitched tone that mimicked an outraged Padma Patil. “I thought I was going to die when Hermione said there was nothing wrong with Ron’s arse.” Parvati burst out laughing. “Just … stop,” pleaded Harry. “It was torture at the time, let’s not relive it!” He was pinned between the two girls on the loveseat as they fluttered and giggled their way through reminiscences of their romantic adventures. “We all thought Hermione was going with Michael Corner, remember?” Parvati giggled. “She wouldn’t tell us a thing about her date,” said Lavender, “and Corner wouldn’t tell.” “Did he go stag?” “No, I think he went with … that Luna girl?” “No, it was a Hufflepuff from third year,” said Parvati. “I remember the look of disgust on Susan’s face. I think it was like her cousin or something?” “Oh! That’s right and she was so excited to go and then he ignored her all night, staring at Ginny Weasley!” “But she was all right, Susan’s cousin,” clarified Parvati. “I mean isn’t that where she met that Ravenclaw she’s going out with now? Roger Davies’ best friend’s little brother?” “Oh yes! Yes!” squealed Lavender, she lowered her voice conspiratorially and leaned across Harry. “I heard you know, that they … did it, before she went back to Hogwarts. He’s working at that law firm now. Just the coffee boy, but still; he’ll be up and coming before you know it!” “Well if you are going to give yourself away like that,” sniffed Parvati, “I suppose with someone who works in a law firm is a better bet than some bum off the street.” “Oh I don’t know,” mused Lavender. “Imagine doing it and then being locked away at Hogwarts. I mean wouldn’t you have gotten a … taste for it? What do you think, Harry?” They both turned to pin their gaze on him and Harry felt his face heat up magnificently. “I erm, well I wouldn’t know,” he muttered, casting about for a way to escape. “No, of course,” Parvati smiled and patted his arm. “It must be so heavenly to be with Ginny all the time.” She sighed and Lavender giggled. “This has been great, catching up,” said Harry, levering himself out of the seat with difficulty. “I, um, have to go. It’s been great, really. I’ll keep you updated.” He scurried out of the shop and across the road to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes as fast as he could, leaving the two girls giggling on the loveseat and waving airily at him. The doorbell clanged horribly as he opened the door and jumped in surprise. “Oi! I thought you got rid of that thing!” he yelled. George popped his head up from behind the counter. “Oh no, my good man!” he crowed. “I fixed it! You were a long time in there, started to think they devoured you alive. I was about to send a search party, see if we needed to rescue you from the lace and frills.” Ron emerged from behind the counter. “You did not fix it!” he glowered. “It sounds worse than ever. Just get rid of it!” “But Dad would be crushed!” protested George. “That was a gift, that was!” “Oh don’t pretend like you care what Dad thinks,” murmured Ron wearily. He said it very quietly and Harry did not think George was supposed to have heard it, but George had turned his head at that moment so his ear was facing Ron and must have caught every word. “What do you mean, ‘I don’t care what Dad thinks’?” he asked harshly. Ron stiffened. “Nothing,” he mumbled and started walking towards the back room. “Here, Harry. I’ll get you some real chocolate to take back to Ginny.” “Don’t you walk away from me!” shouted George. Harry stayed hovering in the doorway, unsure whether to intervene or not. “Why not?” Ron bellowed back. “You do it all the time! I don’t even know where you were the last week! I covered for you! I told Dad you were at Lee’s house for the weekend. For all I know you could have drunk yourself into a stupor in some ditch somewhere!” “I was with Angie!” “Oh yeah?” asked Ron sarcastically. “Shagging your dead brother’s girlfriend, that’s real nice.” George, who had been red in the face, suddenly went white. “You don’t know anything,” he said. “You don’t know anything!” “You’re right, I don’t!” snarled Ron. “You don’t bother telling me anything. You just take off for who knows where — different woman or pub each night probably, leaving me to tell Mum why you aren’t home for dinner. Last night I had to tell her you’d practically moved back in here and then she wanted to come around and clean up for you and stuff. You’re lucky Percy chose that moment to come moping in the door and sighing heavily. She turned all her guilt on him.” “Guilt?” Harry ventured but he was drowned out by George who began to shout. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN DIFFERENT WOMEN?” he bellowed. “How dare you-” “I’ve seen you with a lot of witches,” Ron said matter-of-factly. “Not recently,” George retorted, glaring at Ron menacingly. “Wouldn’t know, would I,” said Ron. “Haven’t seen you lately, have I? It was very nice of you to turn up for work today by the way. Verity was beginning to wonder and I was running out of plausible excuses.” “Yes, well I’m back now,” George said through clenched teeth. “The point is — where have you been?” “None of your business,” retorted George sullenly. “Yes it is, it’s half mine,” growled Ron. “You and Harry gave it to me.” “No,” said Harry, panicked. “That was Fred’s half.” Ron rolled his eyes at Harry. “Do you all think I’m completely stupid?” “Maybe the shop’s half yours,” said George quietly, “but my personal life isn’t any of your business no matter how you slice it.” “Where were you?” Ron pleaded this time. “Mum’s worried. She pretended she wasn’t but it’s only because Perce needs her that she’s not run off looking for you.” “What’s wrong with BigHead?” “Penelope broke it off with him and he’s a broken shell of a man,” replied Ron. George raised an eyebrow at him. “Broken shell? I didn’t know you were so poetic, mate.” “Ron’s apparently very poetic and romantic,” murmured Harry without thinking. “What?” Ron yelped. “What did Hermione tell you?” Harry flushed a brilliant red and George snickered. “Nothing,” said Harry. “Much,” added George. Harry glared at him. “Just … come home for dinner tonight,” said Ron, “show Mum that you are alive and in one piece. I don’t care what you do; live above the shop with a harem drinking elderberry wine and eating cupcakes or marry a Muggle and dwell on a mountaintop in Wales for all I care. Just please show Mum your face once in a while.” “Alive and in one piece?” George said dully. “Is that what this is called, this … existence?” “What are you talking about?” muttered Ron tiredly. “You’re acting very strangely.” “No I’m not,” said George immediately. He plastered a wide smile on his face that was undeniably fake. “I’m fine. See?” Ron raised an eyebrow at him. “You have been moping about here for months looking like somebody died,” said Ron. Harry gaped at him. “Someone did die, you git!” George burst out, his face furious. Ron ignored him entirely. “And now, here you are suddenly looking all bright and chipper like you’ve been hit with Flitwick’s strongest Cheering Charm. Something’s not right,” Ron said, leaning against the doorframe casually, his arms crossed over his chest; one leg hooked in front of the other. George looked as though Ron had just hit a Bludger into his stomach. “Ron-” Harry started but Ron cut him off. “If you’re going to tell me to go easy on him, don’t,” he said shortly. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t tiptoe around things. It’s not something I do. I can’t take any more pretending Mum’s coping or that George is okay. Mum’s not coping. George is not okay.” “I am, I’m fine,” said George weakly. “Stop it! Just stop it!” Ron cried. “Stop pretending you’re fine. Stop pretending you don’t look for women to distract you. Stop pretending you aren’t drinking every night. Stop pretending everything’s okay!” There was a long moment where no one said anything. Harry stood motionless in the doorway and George was breathing heavily in the middle of the shop. Ron was standing near the back of the shop, tense and holding his breath. Harry wondered if he should leave but Ron shot him a look that clearly told him to guard the door. Harry stayed exactly where he was, waiting. “Don’t try Apparating,” Ron said. “Hermione taught me an anti-Apparition ward. If you try it you’ll Splinch yourself. Splinching’s really unpleasant.” Harry raised his eyebrow at Ron who stared at George impassively. Harry turned and carefully flipped the sign on the door to ‘closed’ and fastened the latch. George said nothing. “You didn’t look hung over this morning at least,” began Ron conversationally. “So that’s something.” “That’s because I didn’t get drunk last night,” said George softly. He turned to stare out the window. Harry shifted uncomfortably as George’s gaze swept over him and settled on something in the distance. “Where have you been?” asked Ron quietly. “I told you, with Angie,” answered George. His white knuckled hands were clenched into fists and his arms hung rigidly at his sides. “D’you … well, d’you think that’s … healthy?” stammered Ron. George chuckled mirthlessly. “Not in the slightest,” he replied harshly, “which is why it makes me an utter bastard.” “George …” Ron trailed off as George sank to the floor, cradling his head in his hands. “George, what happened?” Ron moved closer to George slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal. “I met her,” George said. “Angie. At the pub.” “Which one?” asked Ron dryly. George made a rude gesture at him. “Not the point,” he muttered. “She … wasn’t doing too good. Probably drank a little more than was healthy.” Ron snorted. “When was this?” Harry asked. “Um … Friday I think,” George squinted. “I can’t really remember which day it was, they sort of blurred into each other after that.” “Days? Just how long was this bender?” asked Ron harshly. “I don’t know!” wailed George. “Two days, three maybe. We weren’t really looking at the clock.” “We?” yelped Ron. “Angelina went on this bender with you?” George winced. “For a few days?” said Harry incredulously. “What were you doing?” George blushed magnificently. “You didn’t,” Ron groaned. George didn’t move. “You did, didn’t you?” “I didn’t mean to,” George moaned. “It just sort of happened. She wanted it.” “She was Fred’s girlfriend,” hissed Ron. “I know, I know.” “You took advantage of her,” Ron raised his voice and glared at George. “She wanted to!” protested George. “Only because you look like Fred!” “I know! I know!” George buried his face in his arms. “HOW COULD YOU DO THAT?” Ron shouted. “BECAUSE SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS!” George shouted back. “She’s the only one who misses him like I do. They broke up, but it was never Lee. He knew it. He knew she’d go back to Fred. She always did. This is killing her Ron, just like it’s killing me.” There were tears running down George’s face as he looked up at Ron. “But why?” asked Ron. “If you know it’s Fred she wants, why would you do this to her?” “Because this is the only way I can feel,” sobbed George. “Nothing means anything any more. I pretend that it does; but really, no one needs me anymore, not the way Fred needed me. We needed each other. I don’t feel like getting up in the morning. I don’t feel like coming into the shop. I don’t feel like eating. I don’t feel like anything. “And even though I can’t feel anything, it still hurts! It’s bloody unfair! How can I not feel anything and still hurt? She’s hurting too Ron and I made it go away. How can that be wrong? I felt good for the first time in ages and she needed me. Somebody needed me. She wanted to, I swear. I didn’t force her.” “I never thought you did,” said Ron quietly. “First we cried,” George stared into the distance. “Made a great blubbering mess all over the Hogs Head. Aberforth told us if we were going to make that much noise we could go somewhere else. So we bought a couple bottles of Firewhisky and came back here. Merlin, the flat’s a mess. I think we passed out in the sitting room. I woke up there the next morning anyway; head pounding like Hagrid was beating on the door. Angie wasn’t much better off, but I heard you come in to open up the shop so we grabbed the last bottle and Apparated to Angie’s place. “Seemed to her if we kept drinking the headache might go away, so we did and that’s … that’s when …” “If you hadn’t been completely pissed out of your gourd, would you have …” Ron gestured with his hands. George smirked at him. “Done the deed? Danced the horizontal tango?” “Ugh, you make it sound so …” Ron shuddered, “tawdry.” “It wasn’t like that,” George said, suddenly serious. “Even though I was pissed out of my skull, I think it was the most meaningful … well the most meaningful time I’ve had.” “If you were that drunk, can you even remember how meaningful it was?” “Well, sure I don’t remember a lot of the first time,” George admitted. “That one’s a bit hazy, but we started drinking less and … well, making love more.” Harry shifted uncomfortably by the door. “That’s a bit, um … it’s a bit meaningful,” muttered Ron. “But it was, Ron, it was,” George said urgently. “I felt … whole again for a while. She made me feel something and it wasn’t pain.” “And then you sobered up, didn’t you?” “Yeah,” George breathed out a heavy sigh. “Oh Merlin, Ron, she doesn’t feel the same way. She doesn’t want me, she wants Fred. What have I done? How could I do this to her? Just to try and make myself feel better? Because I can’t; I can’t feel better. I can never feel whole.” “But you said you did with her,” argued Ron. “You said she made you feel whole.” “I can’t,” muttered George shaking his head. “I can’t do it to her, she deserves better than me. I’m only half a person. I left. I left about two days ago and came back here. I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t face you.” “So you put on that silly front and tried to make yourself look, what … sane?” scoffed Ron. “I told you. I’m not that stupid.” “Ron,” George said suddenly. “What am I going to do?” Ron shrugged. “I don’t know,” he said. “But you have heaps of practice at stuffing things up with a girl!” George turned to him, pleading. Ron pushed him on the shoulder. “You idiot,” he said but he was almost smiling. “I think you need to talk to Dad.” George shook his head frantically. “No, he’ll tell Mum!” “And she’ll look at you with that face …” Both of them shivered. “Definitely not,” murmured George. “Bill,” said Ron decisively. “You need to talk to Bill.” “Really?” grimaced George. “He’s very … proper. What about Charlie?” He finished with a hopeful look on his face. Ron shook his head. “Nah, Charlie’s no good,” said Ron pensively. “He spends too much time with dragons; he can’t tell you anything about women. Now Percy …” The two brothers looked at each other and shook their heads simultaneously. “That leaves you or …” George swivelled to look at Harry. He eyed him for a moment before shaking his head. “It leaves Bill.” ************************ La vender was standing in the Ministry Atrium when Harry, Ron and Hermione arrived the following Saturday. She looked almost as frail as she had when Harry had seen her the week before, but in her eyes there was something more, a spark of renewed vigour; of determination. “I hope you don’t mind I came,” she said nervously, twisting her robes between her fingers. “Parvati said Ron dropped a note in about a hearing about … it today I … I had to come.” She was looking at Harry but they all knew she was talking to Hermione. “It’s good that you came,” Hermione reassured her quietly. “Harry told me about your uncle. It will probably make him nervous if he sees you there and you’ll … need to deal with things. You can sit with Ron and Harry. Kingsley asked me to meet with him about my research. I think he wants me to help present something.” “I didn’t know that,” said Ron. Hermione nodded, her eyes gleaming. “Isn’t it great? He sent me an Owl last night,” she said. “I’d better go. You can look after Lavender, can’t you?” She kissed him briefly on the cheek, patted Harry’s arm and strode confidently towards the lifts. “Well, we’d better go to the courtroom, I suppose,” Ron said eventually. “I need to wait here for Andromeda,” answered Harry. Ron shrugged and the three of them stood awkwardly in the Atrium for several long and uncomfortable minutes. Ron stared intently at the floor and Lavender began inspecting her robes, intermittently plucking off something miniscule that Harry assumed was fluff. He wondered how Hermione had seemed so at ease when Ron and Lavender were still unable to even look at each other. He knew something of how hard it was to deal with a relationship that had ended. He was still uneasy around Cho because she had a tendency to act unpredictably, but his actual feelings for her had simply faded. His break up with Ginny had been different because neither of them had wanted to be apart. Harry had little experience with the type of palpable tension that currently existed between Ron and Lavender. It was a sort of undefinable feeling that something wasn’t quite finished. As if they didn’t know how to behave at all. Harry reflected rather bitterly that perhaps he understood it more than he was willing to admit. The rather vague sort of feeling that one did not know where to put oneself and what gestures would be welcomed was one he had become increasingly familiar with all week. He had left Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes last Friday with a lecture from Bill ringing in his ears. It had not been enough for Bill to berate George for his incredibly short-sighted and stupid behaviour. Bill had lined up all three of them and given them a lecture about respecting women. Harry had attempted to beg off under the guise of not actually being of Weasley blood, but had to abandon all thoughts of escape when George fixed him with a piercing glare and Ron grabbed the back of his robes, pinning him in place. While Bill began an impassioned plea for the three of them to wholly respect the women in their lives, Ron had pulled Harry surreptitiously closer. “You are not getting out of it mate,” he had muttered under his breath. “If I have to listen because George has been a git, so do you.” Harry had actually left feeling rather enthusiastic about showing Ginny how much he loved her, but the woman in question and been in an intolerable mood all week. Her disposition had not, in fact, improved with the production of Honeyduke’s finest and when Harry got shouted at on Thursday morning simply for chewing too loudly, George and Ron received a Howler. Harry tried to spend time with Hagrid in an effort to stay out of Ginny’s way, but the groundskeeper kept refusing to let him in. “Go an’ enjoy th’ bracin’ mountain air,” said Hagrid, overly casually. “Afore it gets too cold; off you go.” He slapped Harry on the back, giving him a not so gentle push as he did so, sending him stumbling onto the path to the lake. Professor Fiesche had continued to glare at Harry while being perfectly pleasant to everyone else and Draco Malfoy had ceased any pretence of convivial feeling, scowling at Harry across the table during Potions and making sarcastic remarks as he watched the seventh year Defence students practice basic duelling. A troupe of third year students took to following Harry around and asking when he was planning to have Quidditch try-outs. Every time he turned around he stumbled over one of them or the awed first and second years who seemed to stop stock-still in the middle of corridors and passageways whenever he walked past. On more than one occasion Ginny had growled at the younger students and extricated herself before stalking off. If Hermione was with him she was more amused than annoyed. Harry had tried to ask Hermione if she had any ideas about why Ginny was so irritable and snapping at anyone who looked at her, but Hermione had been a frazzled whirlwind. She wandered the castle with quills and bits of parchment sticking out of her pockets and her nose in dusty books from the Restricted Section. She continually pressed hastily scribbled notes about werewolves and wolfsbane into his hands and demanded attention to things Harry only barely understood. “Don’t you think this is a good precedent, Harry?” she pressed him one day. She had shoved a book under his nose at the lunch table and nearly sent a jug of pumpkin juice flying. Neville’s quick thinking had stopped it careening into Ginny’s lap. Harry shot Neville a grateful look. Neville shrugged and nodded before returning to his food. Harry had been in the library with Hermione the night before. Dean told him that Ginny had bawled Neville and Dennis Creevey out for turning pages too loudly in the common room. Harry figured Neville was alert to the tightly strung ball of tension that was Ginny Weasley. Harry tried to pay attention to Hermione as he watched Ginny eat. She was pale and scowling as she played with the food on her plate. Harry muttered agreements to Hermione as she prattled, but his attention was on Ginny. She looked up and he smiled tentatively. Ginny just sighed and gathered her bag up. Harry grasped her hand before she could leave. “All right, Ginny?” he asked softly. He noticed that everyone was carefully eating or had started very animated and involved conversations. Ginny looked around slowly before she nodded. “I’m fine,” she muttered, “library.” Then she was gone. And so as he stood watching Ron and Lavender shift uncomfortably as if there was a hippogriff in the room, Harry wondered if it felt like he had all week. Like he was standing just a little left of where he should be, in a slowly thickening mist and unable to move into the right spot to see clearly or know what to say. Ron had begun tapping his wand nervously against his leg when Bill and Fleur arrived. To Harry’s surprise Fleur was carrying Teddy perched on one hip, looking around curiously. He had one fist in his mouth and drool was slowly sliding down into his cuff. Ron looked at Bill and Fleur as if their entrance was water to a drowning man. “Hi Bill!” he called exuberantly, dropping his wand with a loud clatter. Teddy jumped at the commotion. “Hello Ron,” said Bill with an amused smirk. “Andromeda just stopped at … well she’ll erm, be here in a minute, Harry.” “What’s Teddy doing here?” asked Harry staring at the baby. “This is no place for Teddy.” Little chubby baby fists stopped trying to grab at Fleur’s long hair as Harry spoke and Teddy twisted himself around in her grasp. “Mum’s taking him for the day,” explained Bill. “Kreacher is perfectly capable but Mum … well ...” “She wants grandchildren,” interjected Ron. Bill rolled his eyes. “Da!” Teddy cried. “Ba! Da!” He squirmed in Fleur’s arms, his drool-drenched fist waving in the air and his hair slowly turning black. Harry reached out for the baby who threw himself bodily in Harry’s direction, squealing. Harry grimaced as one soggy fist swiped at his face. “Did he just call you ‘Da’?” Bill smirked. “He calls everybody ‘Da’!” exclaimed Harry, wiping his face with difficulty as Teddy bounced on his other arm, grasping at Harry’s neck. “Watch … who’s this Teddy?” Harry pointed in Bill’s direction. Teddy stopped bouncing and stared solemnly at Bill for a moment. “Da!” the baby proclaimed. “Da, da, da!” Harry turned in Lavender’s direction “Who’s that, Teddy?” “Da! Da!” squealed Teddy. “Ba da la!” “See,” said Harry smugly as Teddy turned to him and grabbed at his cheek with one pudgy hand. “Everybody is ‘Da’.” “Yeah, but not everybody gets that cuddle,” said Ron as Teddy lay his head on Harry’s shoulder and stuffed his fist back into his mouth. “That, he reserves for you.” Harry looked down at the soft downy head and smiled as he dropped a kiss there. “I know,” he said softly and Teddy sighed and closed his eyes. “That just makes me all clucky,” said Lavender. “Oui,” murmured Fleur, “and you weel make a good father for Ginny’s babies.” She turned at looked at Bill suggestively. “What?” he asked her. “C’est dommage que nous soyons debout dans le Ministère parce que je suis si excitée en ce moment que je pourrais faire l’amour avec toi et te faire de beaux bébés toute la nuit,” purred Fleur. Bill blushed profusely and shifted behind his wife before clearing his throat with difficulty. “Where’s Ginny?” he asked Harry, his voice cracking on the first syllable. Ron shared a brief glance with Lavender and rolled his eyes at her. Lavender giggled. “Um, well … McGonagall,” said Harry. “She … with me and Hermione leaving Hogwarts for the day she wasn’t about to let one of the Prefects leave if the Head Boy and Girl were both gone. She and Neville have the unenviable task of supervising the Quidditch pitch. Dennis Creevey offered to help some of the first years practice their flying.” Ron laughed. “So you mean Ginny’s supervising?” he chuckled. “What’s Neville going to do? Show them how not to fall off?” “Ron!” gasped Lavender. “Don’t be so mean! Neville is a very accomplished wizard.” “Yeah, but not with his broomstick,” sniggered Ron. “Oh what would you know,” Lavender scoffed. “He’s a little better at flying than he was in first year!” “Oho, sounds like you know him much better,” smirked Ron. “Shut up, Weasley,” muttered Lavender. “Oh come on,” Ron said, swinging and arm around her shoulders casually. “Don’t be like that.” Lavender stiffened slightly as he made contact with her left shoulder, but she didn’t move away. “Like what?” she mumbled. Ron didn’t answer her. He steered her in the direction of the lifts. “Come on, let’s go get a seat so we can watch Harry make funny faces at the baby while Hermione tells your uncle to just get -” “Ronald Weasley! Language!” came a harried voice from the opposite direction. Molly and Andromeda were hurrying towards them. “Stop that thought, right there. Harry dear, lovely to see you. Now where is this gorgeous boy?” She lifted Teddy out of Harry’s arms and the baby grabbed at her red curls. “Da!” he said proudly. “Daaaa!” “Oh I think he called me ‘Nan’,” said Molly. Andromeda chuckled as she handed Molly a large bag. “He calls everyone that,” she said smiling. “If I listen closely it sounds like Gran some days.” “Well, young Teddy,” said Molly turning her attention back to the baby. “Let’s go and see what mischief you can get up to with Nanna Molly. Say bye-bye to Gran.” Teddy waved a little fist. “Ba!” he called. “See,” smirked Ron. “She wants grandchildren.” “Not from you, Ronald Weasley,” said Molly severely. Ron turned alternately white and then red as her words sunk in. His mother ignored him and turned to Andromeda. “Now don’t you worry, Teddy and I will be just fine.” Andromeda nodded. “Thank you, Molly,” she said. Molly nodded briskly at them before she set off for the entrance, chattering away to Teddy. “Okay, now we can go,” said Ron impatiently. He turned to Lavender, his earlier awkwardness vanished. “So, if I come into the shop this week, could you do me a reading? I rather fancy knowing what my tea leaves might say.” “You hate Divination,” retorted Lavender. “No I don’t,” protested Ron. “It’s dead useful.” “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better,” she said. “Is it working?” Ron asked. Lavender smiled. “Yeah.” |
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