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Grave Days
By Northumbrian

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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-DH/AB
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama
Warnings: Death, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 153
Summary: Front page: THE DAILY PROPHET 4 May 1998

WHERE IS HARRY POTTER?

Despite the Official Ministry Statement (published above) we are no closer to receiving an answer to the question on the lips of every witch and wizard in the country. Where is Harry Potter?

It appears that Mr Potter left Hogwarts School early yesterday morning, apparently in the company of his close associates Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley. An attractive young Ministry clerk, who did not wish to be named, told The Prophet “He’s at the Ministry, having an important meeting with the Minister. My friends and I saw him. He asked us out to the pub, but we had to turn him down.” This statement is at odds with a leaked report from the Portkey Office, which claims that Mr. Potter has fled the country, travelling to Australia with his companions. When asked about rumours that Mr Potter had been seriously injured and was being treated at a secret location, Acting Minister Shacklebolt said simply, "Nonsense."



Hitcount: Story Total: 115049; Chapter Total: 11799





Author's Notes:
This is the second longest chapter and the halfway point of the story.

Thanks once again to Andrea and Amelíe for their comments, corrections and input. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.




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7: Family Plots

Ginny and Ron stared at each other in angry silence. Harry gave Ginny’s waist a warning squeeze, trying to warn her not to start another public argument. He succeeded, she relaxed, and hugged him, but that only made Ron even more annoyed. Realising that he needed to talk to Ron, alone, Harry cast his eyes around the room looking for an excuse to get his friend alone. That was when he noticed Ron’s rucksack, it was still lying in the corner where he’d put it when Ron and Hermione arrived.

‘Mrs Weasley, shall I take this rucksack up to Ron’s room?’ he asked Mrs Weasley, removing his hand from Ginny’s waist.

‘Thank you, Harry,’ said Molly, ‘but Ron should really learn to tidy up after himself.’ She glared at her youngest son. Ron got angrily to his feet.

‘I’ll give you a hand, Ron, it’s heavy,’ Harry offered.

Ron looked suspiciously at Harry, before he finally comprehended what Harry was trying to do.

‘Thanks, mate,’ he managed to grunt in a surly and ungrateful tone.

Ron left Harry to carry the rucksack and silently led the way as they zigzagged up the five flights of stairs to his bedroom. At the top landing he ushered Harry into his small and untidy bedroom and indicated that Harry should sit on the bed. When he did, Ron leaned against the wall opposite and began talking quickly.

‘Ginny’s obsessed with you,’ he began, ‘I don’t think you should take advantage …’

‘She’s got a scrapbook, that’s all. That’s what you found in her room, she’s told me,’ Harry interrupted dismissively.

Ron rolled his eyes in disbelief. Harry watched his friend closely, Ron’s eyes were red, and he was almost ready to explode. As Harry stared, he realised that Ron’s annoyance was, at least in part, due to the fact that he was worried about Hermione; that worry was affecting Ron badly. Ginny first, Harry thought, then Hermione. His resolve strengthened, Harry continued.

‘A scrapbook full of stuff about me,’ he confirmed, ‘she was trying to check up on me last year.’ Ron stared at Harry, still unconvinced.

‘I’ve been talking to George, and Charlie; and even Percy. They all know you were going out with her last year, but no-one seems to know that you ditched her!’ Ron threatened.

‘Ginny says that I didn’t ditch her. I think she’s right.’

Ron began to bristle. ‘But…’

‘But we kissed on my birthday,’ interrupted Harry savagely, ‘as you know, because you interfered! That was after we’d supposedly broken up, remember. She’s been trying to check up on me all year, as you know, because you’ve been interfering, snooping in her room; again!’ Harry hammered home his point. ‘And I tried to keep an eye on her too, with the Marauders Map,’ he persisted angrily. ‘Maybe I’m “obsessed” with her, too! Or maybe it’s just that we still fancy each other!’

Ron was reeling from the fervour of Harry’s onslaught.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were going to get back together?’ he grumbled. Harry was winning, he realised, but he wasn’t going to slow down yet. He needed a total victory; he continued his attack.

‘I’d told you it wouldn’t happen again! On my birthday, remember! You were going on at me–you made me promise!’ Harry retorted. ‘When I made that promise it was because I didn’t want Ginny to get caught up in all that, because I wanted to protect her! I thought that there was a good chance that Riddle catch me, and kill me. If he had we wouldn’t be arguing; would that make you happy?’

Ron opened his mouth to protest but Harry kept going, determined to hammer Ron into complete submission. He stood up from his disadvantaged position on Ron’s bed and leaned forwards, staring into his friends blue eyes.

‘Even though I’d promised you, I still hoped…’ continued Harry remorselessly, ‘…hoped that she hadn’t found somebody else. Well she hasn’t and we’re together again and you can’t stop us, so don’t try! Just deal with it!’ Harry paused for breath. Ron said nothing; he simply stared, slack jawed at his unusually passionate friend. Ron was close to complete capitulation. Harry, sensing victory in his grasp, gently pressed his point. He lowered his voice to a desperate, husky whisper, ‘She understands, Ron, she’s brilliant; I just want to be with her. Please don’t make me choose between you and her.’

‘She was in a real state last year, when you finished with her!’ protested Ron, finally finding his voice and playing, as always, the protective brother. ‘She was crying her eyes out. She’s my sister; don’t you dare hurt her again!’

‘Hermione is my friend, she’s like a sister to me, remember! She was crying her eyes out when you left us, before Christmas; don’t you dare hurt her again!’ Harry snapped back viciously.

Ron physically recoiled from the ferocity of Harry’s words, cracking the back of his head on the wall. He stared wide-eyed at Harry; unable to find a response. Harry, too, was lost for words; he’d surprised himself with his passionate defence of Hermione.

In the empty silence created by raw, uncomfortable truths the two young men looked at each other awkwardly. Both thought carefully about what had just been said, about the wounds they had reopened in each other; finally, they smiled self-consciously at each other. Ron stepped forward and held out his hand, Harry stood up from Ron’s bed. They shook hands, hugged quickly and embarrassedly, and stepped back to look at each other with new respect and understanding.

‘You’ll need to watch out for her temper,’ warned Ron, trying to make light of their disagreement.

‘Whereas Hermione, as you know, is a nice quiet girl; all sweetness and light,’ Harry replied. They both laughed, but stopped quickly. The grin on Ron’s face was replaced by a pinched and sad look, he was obviously very worried.

‘What’s wrong with Hermione, Ron?’ Harry asked.

‘Her Mum and Dad,’ Ron explained. ‘Thanks to Kingsley sending us to see the Australian Wizards, we managed to find them after a couple of days.

‘A smarmy git from their Authority, a bloke named Jayden,’ Ron spat the name, ‘helped.’

Harry recognised the tone in Ron’s voice and imagined a bronzed and handsome young Australian wizard fawning over Hermione. He determinedly kept a straight face. He’d just managed to get Ron back on his side; he didn’t want another argument.

‘We went to see them on Tuesday afternoon, at their new house. We thought that it would just be a case of restoring their memories and coming back home.’

‘But when Hermione undid the memory alterations her Mum and Dad went spare. They accused Hermione of–brainwashing–said it was appalling behaviour. I tried to help her, to explain but they told me to get out; they wanted to talk to her alone–I didn’t want to go,’ he sounded desperate. ‘But Hermione said that I should go.’

‘I told Hermione I’d book into the nearest hotel, so she phoned for a tasky.’

‘Taxi’ Harry corrected automatically, Ron ignored him.

‘I made a fool of myself with Muggle money,’ Ron admitted, ‘but I got booked in eventually. It’s hard not using magic, isn’t it?’

‘I called back on Wednesday. They all looked terrible, as if they hadn’t slept. I … fell out with Hermione … I wanted to help, but she wanted to sort it out herself. She said it was private, family stuff.’ Ron looked so miserable that Harry’s exasperation with his friend vanished.

‘I said I was almost family; I told her I lo… I told her she was important to me, but, she sent me away again.’

Harry pretended that he hadn’t heard Ron’s slip.

‘I spent the day lying by the hotel swimming pool, trying to figure out what to do.’ Ron paused for breath.

‘Blimey, mate,’ said Harry. ‘Have they made up yet?’

‘Not exactly,’ Ron looked really glum. ‘I went back on Thursday and they told to me come back in the evening. So I had another day by the pool. When I went back things still weren’t right. Hermione was still crying most of the time. Her Mum and Dad sent her outside and asked me all sorts of questions. Checking that she’d been telling them the truth, I think.’

‘They were really mad. She’d spent lots of money without asking, made them do something they didn’t want to do, and gone off with two boys. That was their version. Well, I tried my best to explain, to help Hermione, but they’re still really upset. And they’d missed her eighteenth birthday.’ Ron shrugged at this.

‘Eighteen is important to Muggles, just like our seventeenth.’ Harry explained.

‘I figured that out myself,’ snapped Ron sarcastically. Harry ignored the jibe.

‘I went back on Friday morning,’ Ron stopped, puzzled. ‘Is it still Friday here? It was after midnight when we left so it should be Saturday. We haven’t missed Colin’s funeral, have we?’

Harry assured his friend that it was Friday evening.

‘I don’t see how it can be,’ Ron pondered for a moment, looking confused. He shrugged and returned to his tale.

‘They asked Hermione to come back in the room, and spent ages talking about money and work and stuff,’ Ron continued, ‘Hermione had arranged for someone to look after their jobs over here. It turns out that they’d been planning a big holiday with Hermione when she’d finally finished school. They thought that she’d missed too many. She’d had Christmases at Hogwarts, spent a lot of her summers here. They told her that they hadn’t seen much of her for years; that she was a stranger to them, and it was going to have to change.’

‘Last summer, just before she altered their memories they’d booked a six week holiday in France, in a jeet — I think that’s French for farmhouse; for June and July this year. Hermione didn’t know; it was going to be a big surprise for her.’

‘They’re flying back from Australia, they get here on Tuesday … they’re not here already?’ Ron paused, puzzled, Harry shook his head.

‘I’ve just told you, Ron, it’s Friday evening,’ said Harry.

‘These time zoners are really confusing,’ Ron continued. ‘They want Hermione to go straight home after the funerals, to get their house ready for them. They want her to stay with them until they all go to France. No magic, and no contact with any of us.’ Ron put his head in his hands.

‘We’ve just got together,’ groaned Ron, his eyes moist. ‘If she goes off with her mum and dad, I’ll have at least three months without her! What can I do?’

Harry looked grimly at his friend. ‘Just hope and dream; that’s what I did.’

‘But you had a couple of months with Ginny first,’ Ron wailed. ‘I had two days, with a battle in the middle.’

‘It’s not much consolation,’ Harry reasoned, ‘but from the state Hermione’s in, it doesn’t look like she’s looking forward to going home without you.’

‘It’s the things her mum and dad said to her that’ve really cut her up. She’s taken them to heart.’ said Ron sadly.

Harry mulled through various ideas while Ron watched in silence. He needed to help Hermione, and Ron, but what could he do? How would he have reacted if someone had changed his memories, changed his mind, sent him away, possibly forever. Was it really any better than an imperius curse he wondered? Hermione had done a bad thing for a good reason, and was suffering the consequences. He wondered why he hadn’t realised this earlier. Perhaps he could explain things to Mr and Mrs Granger.

‘I’ll speak to her;’ Harry offered. ‘I’ll see whether I can sort something out. Maybe we could visit her at her parents’ house. If I back her up as well, maybe they’d listen to me. Even if they won’t, they might let us phone her.’

Ron looked horrified.

‘Listen Ron, talking on the phone is better than nothing, and it isn’t difficult, I can show you.’ Harry reassured his friend.

‘Oi!’ George’s voice came up the stairs, ‘dinner’s ready.’

Harry looked at Ron. ‘Can I tell Ginny you’re okay about us now?’ Ron nodded sheepishly.

‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘I wanted to talk to you; she wanted to hex you.’

When they reached the bottom of the stairs the kitchen was full and busy. The table was set for eleven. Bill and Fleur had arrived while Harry and Ron had been upstairs. Ginny’s eldest brother and his wife were deep in conversation with Charlie, Percy and George. Ginny was helping her mum to serve; Hermione was sitting quietly at the table. Ginny’s brothers fell silent when Ron and Harry reached the bottom of the stairs. Ginny walked across to Harry and slipped her arm around his waist.

‘This is going to be interesting,’ she murmured.

‘George, ‘e does not joke? You two are … togezzer?’ Fleur asked.

Harry nodded.

‘Since last year,’ Ginny said. Harry watched Bill clench his jaw; he’d never seen him looking so fiercely wolfish.

‘Ginny,’ Bill began, ‘you’re only sixteen. You’re too young … and Harry’s famous …’

‘Mum was fifteen when she started going out with Dad, eighteen when they got married, and just twenty when you were born.’ Ginny snarled, ‘and …’

‘Ginny …’ Bill interrupted, raising his voice.

‘William,’ his mother said quietly, ‘after everything you said to me two years ago, I hope that you’re not going to lecture anyone about unsuitable boyfriends, or girlfriends.’

Bill stood in stunned silence.

‘I’m not your baby sister any more, Bill,’ Ginny added, ‘I’m seventeen in three months.’

Ginny pulled Harry tightly towards her. He tightened his hold on her, too. Her hand rested on his hip and his on hers. They looked around at the assembled Weasley’s, daring anyone else to speak.

‘They get my vote,’ George said. ‘And Fred’s.’

‘Thanks George,’ Harry and Ginny said simultaneously. They grinned at each other.

‘And mine,’ Ron said quietly, looking down at his feet. Ginny hugged Harry.

‘This is a family, not a democracy,’ Bill pointed out firmly.

‘So … Mum’s vote is the only one that counts,’ Ginny told him defiantly ‘… and Dad’s,’ she added hastily, seeing the amusement in her father’s eye.

‘You should listen to your maman, mon chre,’ Fleur told her husband. Bill looked at his wife in shock. The second that Fleur agreed with Molly a look of defeat flashed across his scarred face. It was instantly replaced by a look of stubborn disapproval, but Bill was beaten, and he knew it.

‘Oh, Arry,’ Fleur herself broke the silence she’d created, smiling, ‘you look so ‘appy, but ma petite Gabrielle, she ‘as ze crush you know.’

‘She’s twelve, she’ll get over it,’ Ginny observed.

‘Not all twelve-year-olds do!’ George observed acerbically. Ginny opened her mouth, but for once was unable to come up with a smart remark. Charlie and Ron both burst out laughing.

‘If you will all sit down,’ ordered Molly, ‘I’ll serve. We can eat and talk. Harry is going to tell us everything they did while they were on the run.’

Ron guided Hermione to a chair and sat down next to her. Harry was about to sit next to Ron, but Ginny squeezed him aside to sit between her brother and her boyfriend. Ron’s brothers took chairs on the opposite side of the table; Bill sat next to his father, who was at the head of the table, then Fleur, Charlie, Percy and George. Molly sat at the opposite end of the table to her husband, between to George and Harry.

‘Beef stew,’ Mrs Weasley announced as, with a wave of her wand, she ladled thick stew onto everyone’s bowls. ‘The potatoes and more vegetables are on the table.’

Harry decided to start from the beginning; he crammed in a few hasty mouthfuls of stew while the Weasleys sat in expectant silence.

‘When we left the wedding, we Apparated into Muggle London,’ he began, ‘we nearly got caught within minutes. We–I–said Voldemort’s name. We didn’t know that they could find us if we used the name. A couple of Death Eaters arrived within minutes…’

Harry’s audience was, in the main, quiet and attentive. Mr Weasley, Bill and Charlie infrequently asked a few probing questions. The meal progressed slowly as he told the Weasleys of their adventures. Harry was interrupted and corrected by Ron and occasionally by Hermione, who was still worryingly quiet. At every opportunity he had, he ate. As the pangs of hunger abated and the tale unfolded, Harry felt the burden of the past week, of the past nine months begin to lift. Their raid on the Ministry was well known, though it had been assumed that it had been an attempt to rescue Muggleborns, and nothing else.

‘Thanks for the warning, Harry,’ Arthur Weasley smiled, ‘you had me confused in that lift.’ While Arthur explained what had happened, Harry took the opportunity to cram in several mouthfuls of stew.

Harry continued the story. He had decided not to mention Ron’s leaving, just before Christmas, but Ron interrupted, allowing a grateful Harry another opportunity to eat. With a wary eye on his mother and sister, Ron told the story miserably. Ron did not get very far through the tale before he was interrupted. After he’d described the effects of Slytherin’s locket, Ginny hugged him and kissed his cheek.

‘It’s horrible when you’ve got Voldemort talking inside your head,’ she consoled him.

‘Thanks, Ginny,’ Ron mumbled gratefully.

Harry continued the tale through to Christmas, the escape from Voldemort and the loss of his wand and then praised Ron for saving his life, for which Ginny gave Ron another hug. Harry stopped to eat, and allowed Ron to give an edited description of the destruction of the locket.

They told the full story of their short visit to Malfoy Manor. The entire family watched Molly Weasley carefully.

‘Well, she won’t be torturing anyone else,’ was all Mrs Weasley said. Harry continued the story.

He was finishing a third helping of stew by they time the story reached Hogwarts. He allowed Ron, with whispered praise from Hermione, to describe the destruction of the cup and the diadem. They reached the point of Fred’s death, and everyone paused, silent, their heads lowered in memory.

With quite an effort, Harry continued the story and told them about Snape. He made no mention of the elder wand, or of the Deathly Hallows; that, he decided, would remain a secret, even from the Weasley’s, he’d tell Ginny later.

‘I still can’t believe he was on our side,’ George protested, absent-mindedly scratching the flesh where his ear had been.

‘He was still a git, though,’ Ron assured his brother. Molly, watching George carefully, didn’t scold Ron for this observation.

Harry continued, telling everyone about Snape’s memories.

‘Harry,’ Molly Weasley was horrified, ‘you had a piece of Voldemort inside you?’ Harry nodded grimly.

‘No-one else knows. Well, Kingsley does. I wasn’t going to tell anyone else, but then I decided to tell Ginny, to tell you all. You got me out of Privet Drive, risked your lives for me; I trust you all, but I really want to keep this a secret.’

Everyone around the table nodded in agreement.

Harry then tried to describe what had happened in the forest. Everyone stopped eating; they were silent and listening carefully. When he finished, Molly Weasley was crying, and her husband was blowing his nose noisily.

‘You would have died, for us.’ Ginny whispered, determinedly fighting back tears. Her hand, which had been under the table, resting on Harry’s leg for some time, was now gripping it tightly. Harry risked squeezing her knee.

‘Why didn’t you,’ asked George, looking at Harry’s scar, ‘that’s twice he hit you with the killing curse; are you immune?’

‘No,’ Harry explained, ‘Riddle used it on me and something had to die. Thanks to Hermione I knew how Horcruxes work, if the vessel, me, died, then the part of Riddle inside me would have died too. But from what Dumbledore told me while I was unconscious, only one thing had to die, and Riddle had used my blood to regenerate himself, so I was tied to him, too. I could stay, so I did. Riddle killed his soul with the Avada Kedavra. And my … well, what I did … left everyone protected, like my Mum protected me. I’m sorry, but I had to play dead until I got the opportunity to escape,’ he added apologetically.

‘Then Neville killed the snake, and Riddle tried to kill me again, and failed,’ concluded Harry lamely.

‘You make it sound a lot less heroic than it was,’ Ron grinned.

Harry shrugged.

‘Harry,’ Hermione piped up, sounding worried, ‘you do know that you didn’t really meet Dumbledore, don’t you?’

‘I did.’

‘Harry,’ scolded Hermione, ‘Dumbledore is dead, you imagined it.’

‘Just because I imagined it,’ said Harry, remembering Dumbledore’s words, ‘doesn’t mean that it wasn’t real.’

Hermione opened her mouth; a concerned, but angry, expression on her face.

‘Please, Hermione,’ Harry held up a hand; he was tired of arguments, ‘stop.’

‘Or else,’ added Ginny; she scowled at Hermione, who again burst into tears and fled from the room. She was closely followed by Ron.

‘What is wrong with that girl?’ asked Mrs Weasley. ‘She’s been out of sorts since she got here.’

‘Ron told me upstairs,’ said Harry, ‘but I think Hermione had better tell you herself, when she’s ready.’

Molly nodded, looking at Harry in concern, ‘you look weary, dear, like you’re still carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. You need some rest and a few more decent meals. It’s an early night for you, tonight.’

‘Well, if everyone is finished,’ she continued, looking at the empty plates, ‘you boys can clear the table and I’ll make some tea.’

‘Excuse us,’ Ginny told her mother grandly, ‘my boyfriend and I are going to sit down.’

‘Cake would be nice,’ she added as she pulled an embarrassed Harry into the sitting room and closed the door behind them. Bill glared at them.

She guided Harry to her father’s chair.

‘Sit,’ she ordered.

Harry did so. She sat on his knees and put her arms around his neck. He leaned forward to kiss her. She stopped him by gently placing her forefinger on the end of his nose.

‘Just wait,’ she warned. ‘This is the real test. If Mum’s not happy about us she’ll come storming in now. If she’s okay she’ll keep everyone out, make tea, and then knock on the door.’

They sat gazing mischievously at each other.

‘George,’ they heard Mrs Weasley shout, ‘just leave them alone for a few minutes.’ Ginny beamed happily.

Everything’s going to be all right, we’ve got Mum on our side and she’ll win everyone else round soon. For some reason my brothers are still more scared of Mum than they are of me.’ She was so obviously disappointed by this fact that Harry laughed.

‘Hello, girlfriend,’ he grinned, clasping his hands around her waist.

‘Hello, boyfriend,’ Ginny replied, ruffling his hair.

Harry kissed her, gently, carefully, thankfully.

‘I’m glad I’m still alive,’ he said.

‘So am I,’ said Ginny seriously, ‘But there have been times when you weren’t sure that you’d survive, haven’t there?’

Harry nodded sadly.

‘What right have I to be here? To be happy? We shouldn’t be doing this. We’re going to a funeral tomorrow and there are three more on Sunday.’

‘Fred,’ Ginny hesitated, ‘Fred lived life to the full. We should remember him by doing the same, Harry. Lupin and Tonks would say the same, wouldn’t they?’

‘Lupin did!’ Harry exclaimed, remembering his walk into the forest, and trying to explain it to Ginny.

‘I need to tell you about the Deathly Hallows,’ he began.

‘The what?’ Ginny asked.

Harry slowly told her about the Hallows, about the tale of the three brothers.

‘That’s why Dumbledore left that book to Hermione,’ said Ginny.

Harry nodded, ‘I’ll tell you the whole story later, but had the Resurrection Stone with me when I walked into the forest. I had Mum, Dad, Sirius and Lupin with me. Lupin talked about making the world a place where Teddy could lead a happier life.’

‘You deserve a happier life, too, Harry,’ Ginny told him.

Their second kiss lasted a long time, a very long time. It was finally interrupted by a knock at the door. Ginny broke the kiss, whirled out of Harry’s lap, landed in the sofa opposite, and put on a serious expression.

‘Come in,’ she said demurely.

Molly Weasley opened the door and looked at them in open disbelief.

‘Tea is ready, are you coming to join us?’ she asked.

‘Yes, please, we just needed a few minutes private chat,’ Ginny smiled winningly at her mother. ‘Come on Harry.’

‘Could we have two more minutes, please?’ Harry asked, realising that he needed to tell Ginny about Hermione; he’d promised her, no secrets.

Molly smiled her acquiescence so, very quickly, Harry told Ginny about Hermione’s parents.

‘No wonder she’s so tearful,’ said Ginny, horrified, ‘I shouldn’t have snapped at her, I’ll go and apologise.’

When they re-entered the kitchen all eyes were on Harry and Ginny. Fleur smiled, though Bill still looked suspicious. Ron and Hermione were back at the kitchen table. Ron looked grumpy and Hermione’s eyes were red and blotchy. Both were silent.

The plates had been cleared away; everyone was drinking tea and most were eating slices of Mrs Weasley’s excellent fruit cake. The room was filled with the murmur of several conversations.

‘Snape,’ began George, but shut up under his mothers glare.

‘No more questions for Harry,’ Molly ordered. ‘He’s told us enough for today.’

While Harry helped himself to a slice of cake, Ginny hurried over and began talking to Hermione in an urgent whisper. Hermione glared at Ron, then at Harry, and whispered something to Ginny. Harry moved towards his friends but was intercepted by Arthur Weasley.

‘Harry,’ Ginny’s father said quietly, ‘can I have a word with you in private?’

‘Of course,’ Harry replied, glancing at Ginny who was deep in a whispered conversation with Hermione. He picked up his tea and cake and followed Arthur Weasley back into the sitting room. Sitting on the sofa, he took a bite of fruit cake.

‘You’ve been part of this family for years, Harry,’ Ginny’s father began.

‘I know, thanks,’ Harry said, swallowing the rich, heavy, cake.

‘That’s good to hear,’ Arthur smiled, ‘you’re a good lad, Harry, but we’re all going to need some time to adjust. You and Ginny seem to be happy together from what I’ve seen this afternoon, but you’re Ron’s friend too, remember. And Ginny still has another year at school, she’s still young; you’re both still very young. Take your time; make sure that you both know what you’re doing.’

‘We do,’ Harry assured him. ‘Thinking about Ginny kept me going through the hard times last year.’

‘Good,’ smiled Mr Weasley. ‘We’ve all been through a lot; you’ve been through more than anyone. I’m simply thinking of the future: your future; Ginny’s future; my family’s future. Ginny makes you happy, and you want her to be happy. That’s good, and Merlin knows that you deserve some happiness. But what if it doesn’t last? What if you argue, fall out with each other?’

‘We won’t!’ said Harry angrily, shocked at the suggestion.

‘You might,’ Arthur looked seriously at Harry. ‘People do, families do; we have arguments over unimportant things, as well as over important ones. You know that, Harry!

‘We lost Percy, remember!’ Arthur Weasley almost choked on the words. ‘You know that. For years he wouldn’t talk to us. If you and Ginny … upset each other, it will hurt you both, but it will hurt the rest of this family, too. Ginny is my only daughter, but, as I told you, you are part of this family too, Harry.’

‘Oh…’ Harry began to understand Mr Weasley’s concerns; he wasn’t thinking only of Ginny. Harry’s throat constricted, he was finding it difficult to breathe as years of suppressed emotion welled up inside him.

‘I’ve been watching Bill and Charlie; and Percy and Ron, too. The boys are all very protective of Ginny. So am I,’ Arthur admitted. ‘I suppose I’ve always known that she’d bring a boy home, one day. I’m just worried that, if you hurt Ginny, you’ll end up lost; like Percy was. Molly and I don’t want that to happen, Harry. So, please, don’t rush in to anything; will you promise me that?’

‘Don’t rush into anything,’ Harry nodded, ‘Okay.’

‘Thank you, Harry,’ Arthur paused, deep in thought, then continued hesitantly. ‘I’m not your father, Harry, but can I give you some fatherly advice?’

‘Of course,’ Harry nodded.

‘Just before I got married,’ Arthur continued. ‘My Dad gave me the best advice I’ve ever had. He told me “never sleep on an argument”.’

Harry looked puzzled.

‘If you fall out,’ Arthur said quietly, ‘and you will, everyone does. Make up before you go to sleep.’

Harry was startled, he began to blush.

‘This has nothing to do with where you’re sleeping,’ Arthur continued, embarrassedly. ‘It means, if you argue, make up before you part. Don't wait until tomorrow, don’t storm off, and whatever you do, don’t go home and brood. If you do, it will just make things worse when you finally meet again. So, stay up all night if you need to, but sort it out. Never sleep on an argument.’

Harry nodded his understanding.

‘You’re already part of this family, Harry,’ Mr Weasley continued. ‘Molly and I have always tried to treat you like another son; we love you like a son, so I’m sure you’ll realise how awkward things might be. I need to be sure that you know what you’re doing.’

Overcome with emotion, Harry put his head in his hands to hide his tears. ‘I’m sure,’ he whispered through his hands. ‘I know what I’m doing.’

‘Are you all right, Harry?’ asked Arthur, concerned.

‘I’m fine,’ Harry muttered through his hands, as the tears again began to flow. The sofa moved as Mr Weasley sat down next to him. Harry felt a comforting arm around his shoulders. This simple act of kindness did not help Harry to regain his composure. They still liked him, they loved him! Harry took a deep breath; he was about to speak when, rather disconcertingly, Luna Lovegood began singing from his jeans.

‘Purple potion provides power.
Dismisses drowsiness, expels exhaustion.
Enchantment ending, leads to lethargy,
Tiredness, torpor, concludes in collapse.’

Harry sat bolt upright, wiped his tears on his sleeves and looked at an astonished Mr Weasley.

‘Ron and Hermione!’ he announced, struggling to his feet and dashing from the room.

He looked around the crowded kitchen. Molly and Ginny were nowhere to be seen. Hermione sat at the table, looking vacantly across the room. Her tea was untouched and her cake uneaten. Ron was standing behind her, talking to Bill, Charlie and George. Percy was talking to Fleur.

As Harry looked at Hermione he saw her eyes close; she fell face forward onto the table, her collapse cushioned by her slice of fruit cake.

‘Hermione, ‘mine!’ Ron shouted in a panic, reaching forwards to lift her up.

‘Sit down, Ron,’ Harry ordered, running towards his friend, ‘Luna’s potion is wearing off.’

Ron looked confused.

‘Potion, what potion?’ he yawned. ‘What time is it? What’s happened to Herm…’

He crumpled, but was caught by a grinning George.

‘I definitely need to get that recipe from Luna,’ George announced as, with Harry’s help, he lifted Ron into a chair. They had just managed to get Ron seated when the kitchen door opened and Molly and Ginny entered. After hasty explanations, Molly took charge.

‘Bill, Charlie, take Ron up to his room,’ she ordered, ‘Harry, George, Ginny; take Hermione up to Percy’s room. They can sleep though until morning.’

Charlie pulled out his wand.

‘Carry them!’ Mrs Weasley ordered, ‘the last time you tried to levitate Ron to his bed you dropped him and broke his arm.’

‘I was twelve, Mum,’ Charlie protested. Molly folded her arms and glared. Bill and Charlie looked at each other then each slipped an arm under Ron’s legs, put the other around his back and lifted him.

Bill groaned. ‘This isn’t the little brother I used to carry!’ he announced as they set off up the stairs.

George and Harry followed Bill and Charlie’s example. After waiting to allow Ginny to clean the cake from Hermione’s cheek, they carried her upstairs to Percy’s room. Ginny followed closely behind. Harry was rather uncomfortable holding Hermione’s slim, bare legs and was happy when he’d carefully laid his friend on Percy’s bed.

‘Why here?’ Harry asked Ginny, as she straightened Hermione’s skirt.

‘Percy’s been sharing my room,’ explained George before his sister could reply. ‘He thought I might need company.’

Molly Weasley arrived with a pair of old pyjamas, George left and thundered downstairs.

‘These are the best I can find,’ she announced unhappily, ‘unless Hermione can borrow one of your nightdresses, Ginny?’

‘Hermione’s luggage will be in her bag, Mrs Weasley,’ said Harry, ‘I think it’s on the kitchen floor, next to her chair.’

‘I’ll bring it back up, Mum,’ Ginny said. ‘And I’ll help you get Hermione undressed. C’mon Harry.’ She took his hand and led him from the room.

‘Did Dad give you a talking to?’ Ginny asked as they walked downstairs. ‘Mum gave me one. They must have planned it while we were in the sitting room. My parents can be sneaky.’

‘Yes,’ Harry confirmed.

‘Are we going to behave?’ she asked mischievously.

‘I always do,’ replied Harry, trying to look offended.

They paused on the second landing, outside the bathroom door. Harry turned and slid his hands around Ginny’s waist. She lifted her face up to his and they kissed teasingly, tongues intertwining, tasting each others lips. Ginny slid her hands down and cupped Harry’s buttocks; he returned the favour. After some time she twitched her muscles under his hands and they broke apart, giggling.

‘Ginny,’ Molly called downstairs. ‘Haven’t you got that bag yet?’ They quickly descended into the kitchen, still laughing.

Ginny grabbed Hermione’s beaded bag, kissed Harry passionately enough to create an uneasy silence in her brothers’ conversation; then headed back upstairs. Harry took the opportunity to help himself to Hermione’s flattened slice of fruit cake, the only one left. After pulling some of Hermione’s hairs from the cake, he poured himself another mug of tea.

‘Well, you’re stuck with us now, Harry.’ George announced, ‘you’re an honorary Weasley, it’s just a shame about your hair.’




An hour later Harry was sitting in the corner of the kitchen, his arm around Ginny, listening to the murmur of conversation. Bill had been given a stern talking to by both Molly and Ginny and was a little more relaxed. He and Fleur had just said their goodbyes and returned home to Shell Cottage. Ron and Hermione were both sound asleep. Charlie, George and Percy were discussing the last time Ron had been put to bed by his brothers. As he listened to their conversation, Harry realised that Ron would be in for a hard time in the morning. Then his head fell forwards onto his chest. He jerked back and rubbed his neck.

‘I said you hadn’t been sleeping properly,’ announced Molly, vindicated. ‘Bed! Now, young man; and don’t argue. You can share Bill and Charlie’s room with Charlie.’

‘I haven’t brought any night clothes or anything,’ protested Harry, feebly, ‘I should go home.’

‘House elf,’ Ginny whispered.

Harry grinned, ‘Kreacher,’ he said quietly.

There was a pop, and Kreacher appeared in front of Harry. The house-elf bowed low, arms held high. In his right hand Kreacher carried a holdall. He had a clean towel over his left arm and a bag containing Harry’s razor, soap, toothbrush and toothpaste in his left hand.’

‘Master Harry will be requiring these.’

‘Thanks Kreacher. There’s no need to bow to me.’

‘It has always been expected of me, Master. Will there be anything else?’

Harry opened the holdall. It contained the black suit and tie he’d bought for Colin’s funeral, mourning robes, enough clothes to last a week, his trainers, smart black shoes and the sneakoscope Hermione had bought him for his last birthday.

‘No, thank you.’

Kreacher bowed again, though not so low, Harry noticed, and Disapparated.

‘Harry,’ said Mr Weasley, astonished. ‘Was that Sirius’s old house-elf?’

‘Professor Dumbledore said I should be nice to him,’ Harry yawned. ‘He was right, as usual, it worked.’

‘In the future, tell him we’ve got soap and clean towels,’ Mrs Weasley stressed. Harry yawned again; he could hardly keep his eyes open.

‘Alright, Mrs Weasley,’ he nodded, as he walked over to the stairs.

‘I’ll be up in a few minutes to tuck you in,’ Ginny announced.

‘You will not,’ Molly told her daughter.

‘Mine’s the bed nearest to the door,’ Charlie shouted, as Harry stumbled upstairs to the bathroom.

Colin’s funeral is tomorrow Harry remembered, his heart sinking, as he tumbled into bed. At least he’d have Ginny with him.
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