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Fred's Legacies
By PhoenixFeather2

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley
Genres: Drama
Warnings: Death, Disturbing Imagery, Mild Sexual Situations, Negative Alcohol Use
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 109
Summary: It's the summer after the battle, but victory is not sweet. Old enemies are still causing trouble. Harry and the Weasley's are having trouble moving on. To complicate matters, Fred left something behind.
Hitcount: Story Total: 75303; Chapter Total: 2850







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The weeks before the students were to return to Hogwarts was anything but restful. In a stroke of brilliant scheduling, trials where students would need to testify had been scheduled back to back right before school. It was draining everyone. Hermione gave her testimony at the Malfoy’s trial, as did Harry and Ron. Lucius received fifteen years in Azkaban as a result. Narcissa was given house arrest and a large fine, with an agreement to extensive community service upon release. Draco’s case was much debated. In the end, he was sentenced to one year in Azkaban to be followed by community service. Ron howled that they should have all been given life sentences, but Harry shrugged. His childhood bully seemed defeated enough and Narcissa really had risked a lot to keep them both alive. Hermione retreated to her room after the trial and did not appear until the next morning, though Ron managed to get her to eat a tray of supper.

The Carrow’s trial saw a reunion of most of the DA members from Ginny’s sixth year. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey gave their testimonies first. They were followed by Neville. Ginny sat on the witness bench nervously tugging at her hair as he went forward. When he was dismissed, the Clerk of Court called her up. Neville gave her arm a squeeze and she walked forward. She sat trembling in the witness stand, but her trembling was now from anger.

After the hearing, Neville had his schoolmates over to his place. They raised Butterbeers toasting sweet, sweet justice and a smoking Firewhisky to remember the dead. Ginny followed those with a second Firewhisky to numb the memories. Another Firewhisky followed because she was of age and no one could deny her a drink. Shortly thereafter, Harry whisked her back home through the Floo. Kreacher had food waiting for them, but Ginny was sick upon landing and stumbled up to bed.

She wouldn’t have left the house the next day, except Zabini’s trial was on docket and her testimony was needed. Plenty of the DA joined Ginny on the witness bench again. Zabini was given ten years, with the possibility of parole. His lawyer had argued his youth and the pressures of bad professors. Ginny went back to Neville’s for drinks again. Again, Harry took her home. Ginny vaguely noticed yelling in the kitchen as she stumbled through it on her way to bed. Her mum seemed awfully upset about something.

Montague’s trial had been hastily arranged for Friday. A double dose of Hangover Potion and two large cups of coffee with breakfast gave Ginny the ability to keep going. As most of the DA had been there for his capture, they again joined her on the witness bench. Ginny was surprised to see her father in the room. He had work. He didn’t need to be there. The trial shared much of the evidence of Zabini’s and was done by midday. Montague was sentenced to fifteen years, without parole, for attempted murder of a Muggle. Neville invited the crew to his house again.

“Mind if I come along?” Mr. Weasley asked Neville.

He stuttered, but gave in. The older man accompanied a young crew to the manor. He went in and paid his respects to Augusta Longbottom, leading her out to where the crew was drinking on the front lawn. Mr. Weasley accepted a Firewhisky from Neville, nursing it quietly for a few moments before he addressed the group.

“I know you have gone through hell this year. Drinking fire might seem fitting.” Several young people raised their glasses and cheered. “I’ve watched my daughters and my sons recover this summer. And I’ve watched them at the trials this last week. I would do anything I could to take this pain away from them. I would let them do almost anything that would take away the pain.” Mr. Weasley picked up a bottle of Firewhisky. “Drinking till you drop isn’t it. This numbs things for a moment, but pushing the pain back will only make it harder to bear. It’s time you went home. Talk to your families. If you don’t have family left, talk to each other.” He nodded to Augusta Longbottom. She waved her wand and all the drinks disappeared.

“Gran…” Neville pleaded.

“You’ve had enough,” she responded. “Take Hannah back. Suzanne doesn’t need a drunk guardian, and those with a habit aren’t allowed behind the bar. Anyone who has nowhere to go, we have rooms.”

Mr. Weasley took his daughter’s arm as Harry took Ron’s. They went inside to the Floo. Ginny landed dizzily, but she managed not to throw up. She wasn’t drunk. She thought she might have preferred being sick in the Floo to the emotional exhaustion that was crushing her. Kreacher bobbed up and down as she actually ate a lunch, before retiring to her room for a long nap.

“I think the worst is through,” Mr. Weasley told Harry softly after she left the kitchen.

“Maybe,” Harry responded quietly.

---

That weekend, Ginny escaped over to Amanda’s house. Her mum had been going on about Neville encouraging people to drink. Ginny wouldn’t hear a word against Neville so she slipped out. She told Harry where she was going, but insisted on going alone. She brought the photo book with her. Mary opened the door to her cheerfully and welcomed her in.

“How are you, sweetie?” she greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.

“I’ve been better,” Ginny acknowledged. “How is Amanda holding up?”

“Okay. I’ve been trying to get her to take it easy. Her blood pressure was still up on Friday and the midwife is fussing at her.”

Ginny grimaced. “I’ll pop over the St. Mungo’s and get a potion if she needs it,” she offered.

“It’s the stress of last week, I’m sure. All the same, if there are midwives there who have something that works…” Mary hesitated.

“I’ll talk to mum. She’ll bring it over,” Ginny was firm. She went into the sitting room and greeted Amanda who was lounging and watching a soap. Mary invited her on to the kitchen, and insisted on getting her tea.

“So why are you out of sorts, dear?” Mary asked after she poured. Ginny waited a minute, then took a sip before answering.

“There were trials every day this week. They’re being ‘nice’ to us younger ones and have as many trials as they can before school starts so we won’t have to leave to testify.” She nibbled on a ginger biscuit that Mary pulled out from the tin. She hadn’t thought about her stomach being upset before, but now it seemed to calm down. She sat herself at the kitchen table.

“You mean you’ve been having to testify all week? You poor dear. No wonder you look worn out.” Mary sat down at the table with her own cuppa. Ginny shrugged.

“I wish mum would see things that way. She’s gone and gotten all bent out of shape because a few of us were going for drinks at a friend’s afterwards.” Ginny finished her biscuit and Mary offered her another. Laughter from the soap floated in from the other room.
“What did you have to give testimony about?” Mary prompted.

Ginny set her biscuit down and returned to her tea. Why did her mouth still go dry when she thought about this? She had talked about it enough by now. It should almost be normal.

“The Carrows were a couple teachers at school last year. They enjoyed torturing students. They’ve been fired, obviously. They were both sentenced to life in Azkaban. That’s the wizard prison. Anyway, I was at school for most of last year, so… yeah. And then there were a couple students that were sort of their goons. Zabini. He was with Montague in the first attack this summer. His trial came up. They needed me to talk about the attack, and other things. And since they were doing Zabini’s trial anyway, they heard Montague’s yesterday.” Ginny traced the edge of the table with her finger as she spoke, preferring to examine the pattern of the tablecloth than face the kind woman sitting across from her.

“And you are going back to this school?” Mary asked.

Ginny took a deep breath. “Yes. Professor McGonagall, who was here, is the new headmistress now. And Dad’s on the board now, too. Everyone who was involved with last year is either dead or in jail, so….” she trailed off trying to remember all her own reasons. “I’ll be my house’s team captain, so I’ll have a chance at being professional. Hermione will be back. Harry and Ron will come and revise for exams in October. They’ve rearranged things for those of us who missed bits last year. Most of my friends will be back. We’ll stick together.”

Ginny looked up and finally faced Mary. “I know Hogwarts must sound terrifying, but usually it’s really wonderful. It’s just–you got to know the magical world at the wrong time. But if we want to make things right, if I want to send my nieces or my godson someday, I have to go back there first. I thought we were done with the war. I guess we’re not quite done. I still have to make things good again, or at least, normal again.”

Mary smiled at her. “You really are quite brave,” she commended.

Ginny smiled back, “Well, I’m a Gryffindor. Oh, that’s my house in Hogwarts. We’re known for being brave and maybe a bit reckless.” She looked back through the kitchen door at Amanda lying on the couch. “I brought something by for her. It’s a photo album of Fred. Think she’ll be ok with it?”

“I think it will do her a world of good,” Mary responded.

Ginny moved over to the couch and pulled the photo album out of her bag. Amanda sat up to look at it. They went through the photos slowly, Ginny adding in the funny stories whenever she could. Aunt Muriel had sent some photos over from early Christmas gatherings. Professor McGonagall had contributed copies of all the official school Quidditch photos. Colin had started documenting more carefully when he had arrived. Lee’s photos brought the album up through recording sessions for Potterwatch that year. By the time they had gone through the album, Ginny knew that Mary really did believe her. Magic could be fun. Hogwarts could be great. Any of the photos that said otherwise had been carefully omitted.

----

Ginny pulled herself out of bed. She was sweaty and shaky and thirsty. She had already downed the glass of water that sat next to her bed from an earlier nightmare. Giving up on sleep, she crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. Harry was sitting at the kitchen table fingering a glass of Firewhisky.

“Nightmares?” he asked, standing up and pulling her into a hug.

“Yeah, you?”

“Same,” he answered.

“What were you dreaming of?” Ginny asked, hoping to take her mind off her own troubles.

“You. Of what almost happened to you,” Harry murmured. He kept holding her, his nose buried down into her hair.

“I’m ok,” Ginny murmured into his chest. “You’re holding me now.”

“What was your dream?” Harry asked.

Ginny took a deep breath in through her nose. His smell was comforting. “Same,” she responded.

“Are you really ok?” Harry asked.

Ginny looked up at his eyes and realized she could not give him the answer he needed.

“Come with me,” she whispered instead and led him out the kitchen door and up the stairs to his room. “Hold me tonight, Harry. Just hold me,” she pled. He nodded and pulled her into a hug again.

“Your parents are here,” he reminded her.

“Do they usually come into your room?”

“No.”

“We’re good, then,” Ginny informed him. “We’ll wake up early anyway. Just set your alarm. We need sleep. This is the best way to get it.”

Harry closed the door softly as Ginny slipped into his bed. Putting his glasses down on the side table, he slipped in next to her. Within minutes Ginny was snoring softly in his arms. Harry double checked the alarm before drifting back to his own dreams. This time, however, the nature of the dreams had shifted.

Ginny woke the next morning to Harry tracing her face with his fingers. She smiled and snuggled closer to him without a word. The house was still quiet. The light in the room was faint.

“Ginny,” Harry whispered tentatively, hooking his finger under her chin and lifting her face up so that her eyes met his, “I love you.”
Ginny gulped. She had wanted to hear that all summer, yet now she dropped her eyes away from his. His gaze was so intense. She couldn’t breathe. His fingers kept stroking her face. He didn’t say anything else. Ginny tried to get her breathing back to normal. She forced her eyes back up to meet his.

“I love you too, Harry.” Ginny moved up and met his lips with a kiss. They lay together quite contentedly for a few minutes before Ginny heard her father’s footsteps on the stairs.

She slipped out of Harry’s room, stopped by her own room to pick up a dressing gown and went down to the kitchen. Her dad was busy making himself tea. Harry’s glass from the night before still sat on the table.

“Good morning,” Ginny greeted her dad. “Kreacher not up yet?”

“Good morning. No, he doesn’t appear to be, but I can make do. Tea, Ginny?”

Ginny nodded and moved toward Kreacher’s cupboard. She pulled the door open and knelt down. Not quite daring to touch the house-elf, she said his name. The poor old elf started, jumped up, and attempted to bash his head on the wall. Ginny caught him just in time.

“It’s all right,” she reassured him. “You’re not really late. Harry’s not down yet. And all he wants is something simple.”

“Kreacher overslept! Master is not angry?” Kreacher cried.

“No. He’s not angry. He will be down in a little bit, but all he wants is toast and eggs,” Ginny reassured their elf.

“The Mrs. Weasley will say Harry should have more,” Kreacher grumbled as he stepped past Ginny and begin readying breakfast.

“Leave the Mrs. Weasley to me. You do what Harry wants,” Ginny instructed the house-elf firmly. Her dad’s lips twitched up in amusement.

“Your mum’s not up yet, Ginny,” he assured her, “she’s having a bit of a lie in.” He indicated the glass of Firewhisky on the table, “Yours?”

“No, Harry’s.” Ginny responded.

“And how would you know that?”

Ginny sighed, “I woke up and found him here. We had the same dream.”

“Chamber?”

“No, Zabini.”

“You’re having the dreams often, Ginny, aren’t you? I think you and Harry could both use Dreamless Sleep Potion before bed. I can stop by St. Mungo’s and pick some more up.”

“I have it, Dad. They prescribed it to me earlier this summer. It’s just, I hate taking it. What if something happens in the night and I can’t wake up?”

Her dad came over and wrapped her in a quiet hug. “You’re safe, Ginny,” he reassured her. “If anything happens in the night, that’s on me. Ok? Take care of yourself. I’ll have a word with Harry, too. The potions would be safer than Firewhisky.”

Ginny nodded, mostly to make her dad content. She moved to set the table, then sat down to wait for Harry. Her dad passed her a cup of tea and picked up the newspaper. Harry came in a moment later, kissed Ginny on the cheek and sat down next to her. She explained her instructions to the house-elf under her breath. “He’s getting old, Harry. You need to give him instructions to rest sometimes or he won’t. I’ll tell my mum to back off, too. I think he feels like he’s in some sort of competition.”

“Yeah,” Harry agreed, “I’ll talk to him. I think they’ve started going at it a bit too much.”

“Molly misses her own kitchen,” Mr. Weasley spoke from behind his paper, “but that doesn’t mean she should take over this one. I’m sure Andromeda, on the other hand, could use someone over there to make meals sometimes. I’ll suggest it.”

Ron came in then, grumpy and a bit flustered. He accepted the breakfast without comment. Harry leaned over when he was done with his meal and kissed Ginny on the lips. “Take care of yourself today,” he whispered. “You too,” she replied. He and Ron had dressed before coming down, and now moved to the Floo. They hesitated a moment as Mr. Weasley continued to read the paper.

“Ah, go on without me, boys,” Mr. Weasley encouraged as he realized they were waiting on him. “I’ll just be a minute, but I need to finish something here.” The boys nodded and left.

Mr. Weasley folded the paper back up and set it beside his plate. “You and Harry act like an old married couple,” he informed his daughter easily.

“Come again, Dad?” Ginny asked, frowning.

“At the beginning of the summer, he hardly spoke to you and you hardly touched him. Now you give him orders about managing his household, and you touch each other as if it was the most normal thing in the world. You know what he dreams about. Something changed.”

Ginny looked back at her dad evenly. He wasn’t making fun nor was he criticizing. He was waiting expectantly to hear from her.
“I guess a few things changed,” Ginny replied, feeling a bit off her footing.

“You and Harry were at an overnight party together. Your mum and I also left you home without interference. I suspect that Ron and Hermione became, well, better acquainted.”

Ginny snickered. Her dad really didn’t miss anything. Not that those two were doing anything close to a good job of hiding it.
“Something different happened with you and Harry, I think.”

Ginny sighed. “I guess. I showed him my scars. And, well, we slept together. A few times. Just slept, not–Well, it’s like you said. We aren’t Ron and Hermione.”

“Would these be literal or figurative scars, dear?” her dad persisted.

“Both,” Ginny decided that was the safest answer. Her dad’s raised eyebrows however made her suddenly gulp. Lavender and Parvati had tended her after detentions. Sometimes they had been in bad shape too, and another girl from the dorms would be instructed on what to do. The wound in the battle Ginny had fixed herself. It hadn’t even been worth mentioning to her mum, not with everything else. Earlier that summer, she had been in St. Mungo’s, but the Healers had been the ones to help her in and out of her shirts. She had insisted. Up until now, the scars were quite secret from her family. Now her dad looked, for the first time this morning, actually hurt.

“Can I see what you’re dealing with, Ginny?” he asked.

Ginny didn’t bother to verbalize her answer. She slipped her dressing gown off, turned around and pulled her shirt up to reveal her back. Her dad walked around, picked her robe back up and helped her back into it. He pulled her close and cried. Ginny tried to find words to soothe him. It wasn’t something she had ever had to do before. Hermione stumbled into the kitchen, took one look at them and backed right out. Ginny finally helped her dad calm down and sent him off to work. She almost sat back down at the table before remembering Hermione. Groaning, she stomped her way up the stairs and into her room. Her friend rushed at her with inquiries, but Ginny couldn’t care anymore. She threw her dressing gown off and pulled off her night shirt. Even rooming with her friend, Ginny had managed to hide it. She heard Hermione gasp behind her now. Ginny tossed her night shirt aside and rummaged in her dresser for an outfit.

“That’s what he was crying about. It’s old news. Nothing new. Nothing happened,” Ginny snapped as she pulled on a bra and shoved a t-shirt over her head. Hermione had moved over to her own dresser and now pulled out a tub of cream.

“Turn around Ginny, and take your shirt back off,” she instructed, her voice shaking. “Those scars need to stretch out if you want to play Quidditch.” Ginny took the shirt back off and threw herself down on her bed, her own tears coming fast and furious. She hadn’t even thought of stretching the scars for Quidditch. Hermione moved over and rubbed the cream into her back.

“We’ll do this twice every day. It really helps.”

“How do you know?” Ginny asked.

“I’ve been treating Ron’s shoulder,” Hermione explained.

Ginny managed a small smile. “Dad knows about you two, by the way,” she giggled. Hermione froze and groaned. Ginny snickered at her naïve assumption that anything in her family could remain a secret. A few minutes later, she shoved her friend out the bedroom door and down to the kitchen for breakfast.

----

When her dad returned that evening, he slid a large jar of Scar Healing Paste over to Ginny across the dinner table while her mum fussed over the gravy on the stove. Ginny took the paste and put it out of sight. She noticed Ron furrow his eyebrows but dismissed it. A turquoise blue George appeared in the Floo that moment, grinning ear to ear. He had just had a breakthrough on a product, inspired by Fred. The sweets would change the skin colour of whoever ate them for a minimum of one hour, depending on the size of the victim concerned. He launched into a description of the discovery, dared Ron to try one, and generally monopolized the evening’s conversation. Harry accepted a sweet for dessert, his skin turning a bright purple. Ginny laughed at him till her sides hurt before popping a green sweet herself and turning bright green. Her hair, of course, remained stubbornly red.

By the time Ginny was getting ready for bed three hours later, her skin had returned to a relatively normal colour. She pulled her shirt off to let Hermione smear the paste on it only to hear her friend yelp.

“What?” Ginny snapped. “You saw it this morning!”

“They weren’t green!”

Ginny manoeuvred in front of the mirror to look at her back. Where the scars had been dark and red, now raised green stripes crisscrossed her back.

“Get George in here!” she growled. Hermione scampered. George popped in a moment later.

“Bloody hell, Ginny! What the mess!” George’s hand landed on her shoulder as he examined the bright markings.

“I didn’t do it!” Ginny snapped back. “You’re the one who turned them green! What I need to know is, can you un-turn them? Or will I look like some freak show forever?”

“These are scars,” George said.

“I know they’re scars! But they aren’t usually green, you dolt! I prefer normal scars.”

George tossed Ginny her dressing gown and sat down on her bed. “I’ll put a caution on the label for the sweets. Scars are thicker tissue. The colour will stay longer. It should be out by morning, I hope. Harry’s lightning bolt is still purple.”

Ginny groaned. “That had better be back to normal by morning, or I swear on Merlin’s beard you will pay!”

“You two have a lot of scars,” George quipped back. “No one I tested this on had as many.”

“Just get out!” Ginny demanded.

----

Later that night, Ginny snuck back up to Harry’s room. Ron would be sneaking down to hers in a few minutes too. Hermione had seen to the set up earlier.

Ginny opened her boyfriend’s door and crept into his bed. “Your scars still purple?” she asked by way of greeting.

“Dunno, are your scars green?”

Ginny giggled helplessly. “You know, if we ever need a code question in the future, I think that should be it!”

“And what would the code answer be?” Harry asked, running his hands up under her shirt.

“Yes. My brother is an idiot and my scars are green.” Ginny tried to keep her focus on their light banter, but it was really hard with Harry’s hands on her skin.

“You know Dad found out about Ron and Hermione?” she warned her boyfriend.

“Got it,” he chuckled, pulling his hands back. Ginny nuzzled into his shoulder.

“Should we be doing this?” she worried.

“Doing what?” Harry asked, playing with her hair. “I don’t think we’re doing anything.”

“Sleeping together when it’s not, when we’re not, or rather I’m not…” Ginny trailed off.

“You aren’t ready for it to go farther. Neither am I, really. But we leave for school soon and then we won’t have a chance to sleep like this for a while. Besides, you keep the nightmares away.” Harry kept stroking her hair. It made Ginny sleepy. She couldn’t think of any more arguments.

“If only you could sleep with me at school,” Ginny murmured at last before falling asleep.

----

The next morning, Ginny woke slowly and blinked the sleep out of her eyes. There was something in an odd, almost fuchsia colour very close to her. She blinked again. It was on Harry. Suddenly, Ginny started giggling. Afraid of waking her mum, she buried her face in Harry’s brightly coloured chest and shook with laughter. Harry pulled her shirt back up and began laughing himself. Ginny looked like a cream and mint green striped tiger. They both stuffed their faces in pillows and laughed till they could hardly breathe.

The door to their room creaked open and closed. Ginny turned to face it. George was leaning against the doorframe his eyebrows cocked. He obviously wanted to look serious. He definitely failed in that endeavour.

“What are you two laughing about in bed, together, at this hour of the morning?”

“Ginny’s a green and red tiger,” Harry managed before ducking back under the covers as Ginny twisted around to poke him.

“Scars still not faded then?” George asked.

“Not much,” Ginny giggled. “But they’re funny now, George. My scars are funny!”

George shook his head and left the room, leaving Harry to Ginny, the tickling menace. It seemed he didn’t really want to know what the two were doing in bed together after all.
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