|
A Proper Epilogue | ||||||
|
Category: Post-DH/AB Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Minerva McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, Other, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Fluff, Romance Warnings: Death, Intimate Sexual Situations, Mild Language Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 188 Summary: Harry has just defeated Voldemort and everyone in the Wizarding World wants a piece of him, but there is only one witch with whom he wants to speak. How exactly can he hope that she still wants to see him? Hitcount: Story Total: 74381; Chapter Total: 3609 Author's Notes: Have you ever had one of those experiences when it seems like you couldn't handle one more problem, one more burden, then come upon someone who deals seamlessly with even more? |
Previous Next |
|
||||
|
CHAPTER 17 — MOVING FORWARD, CHANGING PLANS Pansy wobbled as she arrived at The Leaky Cauldron thinking momentarily that she might have splinched herself in the process. She could never recall having been more upset or distracted, and she cursed at herself for not having anticipated her mother’s reaction. Then again, she had truly not meant for Lucius Malfoy to die. Nearly broke and completely friendless, Pansy began searching anxiously to find a quiet corner in which to sit. She was immediately stymied, however, as the old tavern was filled to overflowing. With no better idea of how to blend into the scenery, Pansy made her way slowly toward the bar, hoping to catch the eye of Tom, the aging bartender. She sidled up to one of the customers sitting at the bar, extremely careful to avoid eye contact. “Excuse me, Tom!” Pansy called in the general direction of the back of the bald head she knew belonged to the barkeep. When Tom failed to respond, Pansy wasn’t sure whether the feeling that crept over her was frustration or embarrassment. She was in a tight spot, with only thirty galleons in her purse and another thousand or so at Gringotts. “Well,” she thought, “if they have a room available, I can at least make it through tonight. But can I make it until Monday, when Gringotts will next be open?” Pansy stood silently, hoping Tom would soon turn in her direction, wondering if he had lost his hearing along with his hairline and teeth. To her left, she could hear the name Harry Potter mentioned, along with questions being asked by an unknown witch as to whether anyone knew what had happened to his wife. “Wife?” asked another patron, obviously surprised. The wizard sitting beside Pansy finally lifted his gaze from Tom’s direction and answered the curious wizard. “That’s right,” he said softly. “Harry Potter married Ginny Weasley this evening, but they were attacked by Lucius Malfoy.” A hush descended over the entire room as every eye focused on Neville Longbottom. Pansy froze immediately. She had never stopped to consider that one of the few attendees at the Potter/Weasley nuptials would have gone to The Leaky Cauldron following the violent outburst of the early evening hours. “Ha … Hannah and I were there,” he continued, nodding at the petite blonde girl who had been hidden from Pansy’s view by the bartender, who had obviously been giving her instructions. Both were wearing aprons embroidered with the tavern’s name in golden lettering. “Malfoy was trying to kill Harry and Ginny, but only managed to get himself killed in the process.” “Lucius Malfoy? Dead?” asked another voice that Pansy did not recognize. “How did that happen?” “A … apparently he was stopped by Pansy Parkinson,” replied Neville with full voice. Pansy felt the room begin to spin as her vision narrowed, and she felt as if she was viewing the world through an incredibly weak telescope. Just as she felt consciousness slipping away, she reached out toward Longbottom in an attempt to avoid crashing to the floor. “Pansy!” exclaimed Neville. The surprised look on the wizard’s face was the last thing Pansy saw before the tunnel closed and her world turned completely black. George Weasley was growing anxious at the Burrow as he waited to hear news of his sister’s recovery and was regretting his decision to stay home with Dudley Dursley rather than taking the Muggle back to Little Whinging and joining his family at St. Mungo’s. Dudley hadn’t felt comfortable joining the Weasleys on a trip to the wizarding hospital, but neither had he wanted to return home to his parents. As a result, someone had to stay behind, and George had offered to take on the responsibility. “But why would anyone want to hurt Harry or Ginny now? I thought your side had won the war,” said Dudley, obviously confused. “It’s not that simple,” George replied. “Voldemort played on prejudices that already existed in our world. He didn’t invent them.” “Prejudices in the wizarding world?” asked Dudley. “I know my Mum and Dad are prejudiced against witches and wizard, but why do some wizards hate others?” “It’s all about blood status,” answered George. “Our enemies would call it blood purity.” “But it seems to me that you either have magical powers or you don’t,” Dudley replied. “Why would one wizard’s magical power be better than another’s?” “It is and it isn’t,” said George, shaking his head sadly from side to side. “What does that mean?” asked Dudley. “Well, some witches and wizards are more powerful than others. Take Ginny for example. She is a very powerful witch despite being so tiny. She happens to be a Pureblood, which means that she comes from a long line of witches and wizards who were also Purebloods.” “So, Purebloods are more powerful?” “Not at all,” George began. “Harry’s a Half-Blood, but he’s powerful.” “But Harry’s parents were both magical!” Dudley protested. “That’s right,” said George, obviously disgusted. “Even though both his parents were magical, Harry is considered a Half-Blood because his mother’s parents were Muggles. Because of that, your Aunt Lily was called a Mudblood.” “What’s a Mudblood?” “It’s what our enemies call witches or wizards born to non-magical parents. Your Aunt Lily was one. Ron’s fiancé, Hermione, is another, and she’s about as gifted a witch as you will ever see,” George continued. “And that was the basis for this war you’ve just fought? And why someone tried to kill Harry and Ginny?” asked Dudley, looking appalled. “That’s ridiculous!” “No more ridiculous than your mum hating Harry and his mum,” said George sadly. “That’s only because my mum was scared and jealous of her sister’s power.” “Exactly!” answered George. “It’s the same with the Pureblood radicals. They’re afraid and jealous, too. When that happens, people end up hating each other instead of trying to see their similarities.” “And because of that, all those people died?” asked Dudley. “Because of that, your twin brother was killed?” “Y … y … yes,” stammered George as tears began flowing down his cheeks, no matter how hard he fought to hold them back. “Fine time to break down,” he thought. “In front of a Muggle, no less!” Only then did George realize that he was also falling victim to prejudice and stereotyping. After years of hearing that Dudley Dursley was a tremendous git, he was proving to be a rather nice person to talk to. “It wasn’t just my mum and dad,” added Dudley, shaking his head slowly. “In a lot of ways, I treated Harry worse than anyone — at least I did until the night he saved my life from those Dementors.” “Yes,” George answered, “and he almost wound up expelled from Hogwarts in the process. Harry’s had a hard time of it. I don’t know what he’ll do if he loses Ginny.” Suddenly the conversation between George and Dudley was interrupted by the arrival of a shimmering silver weasel. “Ginny is awake and will make a full recovery. At least some of us will return home shortly.” “Whoa!” exclaimed Dudley. “What was that?” “My dad’s Patronus,” replied George. “They’re right useful for everything from defense against Dementors to delivering messages in a pinch.” “Is that what Harry used to save my life? All I remember is something silver.” “Yes. You’re lucky that Harry learned that charm earlier than most wizards do. It saved both of you that night and has saved Harry on a number of occasions. He even taught it to the rest of us a couple of years ago.” “Taught you?” “Yeah, he taught us Defense Against the Dark Arts when the Ministry wouldn’t let the us use magic in class.” “Crikey, George! There’s a lot about Harry that I don’t know anything about, isn’t there?” “Undoubtedly so. But that could be said about all of us,” answered George. “What about Ron and Hermione? They seem to know him better than anyone.” “They’ve been close for years, that’s for sure, but I think Ginny is the only one he really opens up to. I watch him with my little sister and he’s … I don’t know … different, somehow. It’s like he lets his guard down with her — that he’s somehow softer. With Hermione and Ron, there’s still an edge to him.” “Speaking of Ron and Hermione, I understand they’re going back to school?” “We’ll see about that,” answered George, a telltale smirk crossing his face. “Ron’s pretty taken with young Miss Granger, but he’s not really that much of a student. If I have any say in things, I’ll see if I can entice him to help me with the joke shop. He has quite a head for planning and strategizing, even if he doesn’t give himself credit for it. I think he could have quite a future in marketing.” “But won’t Hermione kill him if he doesn’t go back to school with her, with it being so far away?” “Don’t forget about Apparition, Dudley. Our dad has worked in London his entire life, but we live out here in the country. All it takes is …” “Destination, determination, and deliberation” said Ron, stepping out of the floo. “So what’s this about working at Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes?” “Heard that, did you?” asked George, grinning madly. “Well, what do you think?’ “It sounds interesting, but not right away. Hermione would kill me if I didn’t go back to Hogwarts with her.” “Just like I said,” Dudley chimed in enthusiastically. “Maybe something part-time,” said Ron happily, “but finishing school has to be my priority. Nothing short of saving the Wizarding World could convince Hermione to let me skive off my final year.” Draco and Narcissa Malfoy stood together in the foyer of Malfoy Manor watching the forms of John Dawlish, Oliver Wood, and Kingsley Shacklebolt walking slowly away from their home. The Minister of Magic had joined the Aurors near the end of their investigation and taken the time to sit at the family’s dining table to discuss the situation in which the Malfoys had landed. “Mrs. Malfoy,” Shacklebolt began, “I have been in consultation with the Chief of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and he has decided to recommend a suspended sentence be granted to Draco for his role in the plot to murder Harry Potter. This accommodation is being offered because … and only because … it appears that your son may well have changed his mind at the last moment and decided to take action to thwart your husband’s schemes. However, it was his duty, just as it was yours, to report such things the moment you became aware of them.” “I understand,” was all that Narcissa had been able to utter in response. A suspended sentence was certainly better than imprisonment in Azkaban but might well cause Draco problems gaining employment, which he might need depending upon the remaining decisions taken by the Ministry. “Furthermore,” Kingsley had continued, “it will be recommended to the full Wizengamot that you not be charged with any crime. It is apparent that you were not directly involved, so our prosecutors feel your failure to report the plot can be more easily overlooked.” “Thank you, Minister,” Narcissa whispered in response. “I want to make it clear that these decisions were influenced significantly by Harry Potter’s request that you be treated leniently due to your role in deceiving the Dark Lord in the Forbidden Forest.” Narcissa had nodded silently. As they approached the edge of their property, Narcissa slipped her arm gently around her son’s shoulders. She hadn’t embraced Draco in years, but at that particular moment, it seemed like the right thing to do. She was surprised to find him thin and hunched over, as if the last ounce of life had been sucked from him by the events of the day. “Are you all right, son?” she asked softly. “Of course,” came Draco’s defensive response. “It’s okay. You don’t have to act so strong,” she added, squeezing his shoulders. “A suspended sentence!” he huffed indignantly. “That’s what I get for stopping Father!” “Given your involvement in everything from the planning stages up to the last moment defection … a defection Shacklebolt appears to doubt … you’re extremely lucky they are taking such a lenient stance. You could just as easily have been sentenced to Azkaban for ten years or more. And, had you not taken action, you would be facing a life sentence no matter how much Potter says in your defense.” “But now I’m left with nothing but a tarnished name!” Draco continued. “No, Draco, you’re left with everything. We’re left with everything. When they decided not to prosecute me, it left everything in your father’s estate in my name. Everything!” “The Ministry can’t seize it?” Draco asked, amazed. “No. It’s all mine now, and the Malfoy fortune is even larger than you’ve ever imagined.” “More than Father told me?” “Absolutely. Your father always thought it would go to your head if you knew how truly wealthy your family is. So, as long as you hold your tongue and keep a cool head, none of this will matter to your future.” “And without Father, I can control things properly from here on.” “No!” Narcissa snapped. “I will control the family’s money from here on; at least I will do so until you demonstrate the good sense to stay out of political intrigue.” “So you think Father was wrong to be a Death Eater?” “Right or wrong doesn’t matter, Draco. Your father’s decisions were ill advised, at best. There may have been no way to walk away from the Dark Lord while he was striving to take over the wizarding world. Had he done so, we probably would have wound up like the Potters or the Longbottoms. But once he was gone, it was idiotic to make a move for the Elder Wand.” “Idiotic to protect blood purity?” asked Draco, stunned at his mother’s reaction. “Blood purity has always been a ruse to justify the quest for power — something that other Purebloods could identify with — something that allowed them to be controlled.” “And that’s a problem, Mother?” “Yes it is. We have our wealth and we have each other. Before long, your involvement in all this will be largely forgotten, and life can begin again. You can choose a bride and the family heritage can live on. All you have to do is learn from the mistakes of your father.” “So, what do we do first?” asked Draco quietly. “First, we visit Horace Slughorn and try to get that damned Mark removed from your arm.” Ginny shivered, feeling the combined effects of Harry’s soft warm fingers and the hard cool gold of Lily Potter’s necklace against her neck. Although she knew it was physically impossible, her heart felt literally filled to the bursting point with love for the young wizard who had just reiterated his pledge to spend the rest of his life loving and honoring her with all of his being. The thought simultaneously thrilled and overwhelmed her. She stopped for a moment to contemplate this development, for prior to the attack, Harry’s commitment had felt perfectly right — completely natural. After all, she had been nearly consumed with love for him since she had been barely ten years old. The memory of chasing after the Hogwarts Express was as clear in her mind now that they were married as it had been only three weeks past her tenth birthday. Pausing for only a moment to take stock of the situation, Ginny tried to think of the things that had changed since earlier in the day, and she returned once again to the same problem. “Harry?” she asked softly. “Are you sure?” “Sure about what, love?” he replied. “Sure about me. Are you absolutely sure about spending your life with me after what has happened?” “Of course I’m sure,” answered Harry, obviously shaken by this sudden display of insecurity from his wife. “I’m completely serious, Ginny. I know we’ve talked about wanting children, but I don’t need them to be happy as long as I’m with you.” “And you’re sure it’s me? After all, you’re already as much a Weasley as any of us and have been for years,” Ginny continued, fully aware that her mother had already addressed these fears, yet needing to hear the answer from Harry. Ginny had always hated feeling insecure and absolutely despised looking needy! She had scrupulously avoided such character traits since the time of her earliest memories. Being the youngest of seven and the only girl in the group had served to toughen her senses. Nevertheless, Harry’s sudden and unexpected return, his feigned death and stunning victory over the Dark Lord, the whirlwind proposal, an unexpected pregnancy and her devastating miscarriage had left her reeling emotionally. It was not something Ginny Weasley was accustomed to feeling. Her vision was riveted upon Harry’s brilliant green eyes as she waited for his response. The lump in her throat told her unequivocally how afraid she was of the answer to her question, while her intellect scolded her for being needlessly, ridiculously insecure. Harry was obviously contemplating something, for he stood silently in place, swallowing hard while his eyes glistened with building moisture until a single tear slid down his cheek. At last, Harry smiled gently and whispered, “That’s ironic, because I thought this was about you becoming a Potter, not vice versa.” “What?” gasped Ginny. Harry gathered her into his arms and began pressing soft kisses on her forehead and along her eyebrows. “I know I’ve been as good as a son to your parents for years; and Ron’s been every bit of a brother to me since first year. Please, Ginny, don’t ever confuse what I feel for you with the fact that you were a Weasley.” The tension that had been gripping Ginny drained from her body almost instantly while her practical, headstrong nature began chastising her for being so weak. Merlin! She hated to look so stupid. However, the look in Harry’s eyes told her that he was gazing at a vision, not a silly, insecure girl. “Ginny, neither of us is perfect, but if I sat down to design a woman who was perfect for me, she would be you. You’re everything I want and could ever imagine wanting. It may sound stupid but, from the first moment we kissed, and probably for a long time before that, I haven’t even wanted to look at another woman. You, Mrs. Potter, are everything to me and you always will be.” “I’m not drinking that potion,” said Ginny Potter, fully aware that she actually intended to do exactly as Healer Smethwyck had instructed. She simply didn’t like the idea of sleeping away her first full day as a married witch. “It’s either that or back to St. Mungo’s,” answered Harry. “Your healer only agreed to release you from hospital because you promised to rest for the next twenty-four hours and let us take care of you.” Ginny looked across the kitchen of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, where her mother was currently occupied with the production of a lavish brunch. Her father was settled at the end of the table, a copy of The Daily Prophet spread before him. George was seated next to his father, sneaking peeks at the newspaper between sips of coffee. Percy and Charlie were sitting side by side in the middle of the table, barely able to keep themselves awake after having spent the night with their family at St. Mungo’s. “So, everyone’s here?” Ginny asked. “Well, everyone was has been around at some time through the night,” answered Harry, “but Bill and Fleur went back to Shell Cottage for some rest.” “Ron and Hermione?” “Upstairs, I think,” Harry replied as a sly smile worked its way across his face. “At least we haven’t seen anything of them yet this morning.” Ginny slipped her arms around Harry’s waist and buried her face against his chest. “That sounds so nice.” “It sure does,” whispered Harry, trying to keep his lascivious look away from the eyes of Molly and Arthur. “I’m not sure I can wait two weeks,” Ginny answered in an equally soft voice. “It’s what the healer recommended,” said Harry. “Recommended — not ordered,” Ginny offered suggestively. “You asked him how to have the best chance of total healing.” “I know,” answered Ginny, feeling more frustrated than she could express. “But this is supposed to be our honeymoon...” “We’ll still have a honeymoon, sweetheart. We’ll just have to wait a little while. But if it’s any consolation, I’m just as frustrated as you are.” “Well, that we can take care of,” said Ginny with a wink. “Healer Smethwyck didn’t say anything about you having to abstain.” “I’m willing to wait until it can be about you, too.” “Oh, Harry,” Ginny said softly. “It’s still about me even when it’s just for you.” “Still,” Harry replied, “I don’t want to frustrate you more.” “Frustrated!” hissed Ginny. “Frustration is knowing that they can regenerate bones overnight with a cup of potion, but all they can do for a uterus is tell you to rest.” As Ginny vented, Hermione and Ron staggered into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and with arms wrapped around one another. All eyes in the room focused immediately upon the pair who had obviously not been expecting company. “Oh … hi!” said Hermione brightly, seemingly unshaken by the situation. Obviously Hermione had no sense of embarrassment about sleeping with Ron. Still, Ginny found it impressive that her friend could walk into the kitchen obviously fresh from lovemaking, find almost the entire Weasley family sitting there, and not even flinch. Arthur and Molly were equally calm, looking up at each other only long enough to share a fleeting smile of reminiscence before returning to their respective activities. Making eye contact with Hermione and recognizing the glow that radiated from her friend, Ginny fought to suppress the wave of envy that swept over her. She had spent her wedding night in St. Mungo’s instead of in the arms of her husband, and the she was none too pleased about it. To top things off, Healer Smethwyck wanted her to wait two weeks before feeling Harry inside her again. Shaking her head in exasperation, Ginny wondered momentarily how things could get any worse. A flash of green flame in the floo caught Harry’s attention moments before Kingsley Shacklebolt’s deep voice resonated through the kitchen. “Harry?” he began. “It’s Kingsley calling. May I Floo over?” “Of course,” Harry replied. In a flash, the Minister of Magic stepped quickly into the crowded kitchen, his deep purple robes flowing behind him. Moments later, he was followed by an ashen Minerva McGonagall. “Arthur … Molly,” I’m glad you’re here, too,” said Kingsley quickly. “And Ginny, It’s good to see you out of St. Mungo’s so soon.” “Thank you, Minister,” replied Ginny, “and welcome to our home.” “What’s wrong?” asked Arthur immediately; and beating Harry to the question. It was obvious that something had shaken both the Minister and the Headmistress. “There has been an attack at Hogwarts,” said Kingsley, his gaze riveted to the floor. “Augusta Longbottom and Pomona Sprout have been killed.” “What?” gasped Harry. “How did that happen and what was Neville’s grandmother doing there?” “As soon as we learned that the attack at your wedding was centered upon Lucius Malfoy’s desire for the Elder Wand, Minerva and I decided to place a watch on Dumbledore’s tomb. Pomona volunteered to take some of the watches and asked Neville to sit with her.” “So why was his grandmother there?” asked Ginny. “This morning, Neville was supposed to start work at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley. Augusta didn’t want her grandson to be exhausted for his first day at work, so she took his watch.” “Oh, my!” whispered Ginny. “Poor Neville!” “We were so busy with the investigation of the Malfoys and the Parkinsons that we were spread too thin, and with Lucius dead, we really didn’t expect an attack. The watch was just a precaution … or so we thought.” “So what happened then?” asked Arthur, obviously distressed. “As best we can tell, a large number of hostiles surprised our lookouts and killed them.” “The Killing Curse?” asked Harry. “Yes,” answered Professor McGonagall, shaking her head sadly. “Then they broke into Albus’ tomb and took the Elder Wand.” “What?” said Harry, as his immediate future flashed before his eyes. Who else, after all, could reclaim the Elder Wand other than its master? “Oh, Merlin!” gasped Ginny, a panic-stricken look upon her face. “Harry, have you spoken to Ginny about our discussion?” asked Kingsley, a sense of urgency invading his voice. “Not yet. She’s barely had time to wake up.” “It’s okay,” said Ginny. “It’s obvious Harry will have to do this, and I’m going with him.” “You are not!” screamed Molly as the room began to buzz with the voices of the entire Weasley family. Bill and Fleur entered the room at that precise moment, looking flustered and concerned. “Of course I am,” said Ginny, her normally bright brown eyes having hardened instantly. “But you’re not even of age.” “I became of age the moment Dad signed the authorization, Mum. Anyway, Harry’s my husband, and I’m going with him. I won’t be left behind again.” “And we’re going, too,” said Ron and Hermione simultaneously, a look of solidarity passing between them. “We will all do our parts,” said Arthur calmly, instantly stopping the sense of panic that was filling the room. “But do we even know who we are looking for?” “I have to assume that Malcolm Parkinson is behind this,” answered Kingsley. “After all, he was in with Malfoy on the ground floor of this operation, and we know he was already settled in with a group of sympathizers in Romania while Lucius attempted the assassination here in England.” Harry cleared his throat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He took Ginny’s hand in his own and addressed the Minister. “How do we get started?” Pansy rolled over in bed, opened her eyes, and saw that it was already well past time for breakfast. It was okay, as she wasn’t really hungry. However, she was feeling much less terrified for her future since she had returned to consciousness the previous evening with Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott standing next to her bed. Somehow she had been transported upstairs and was settled safely into a room at The Leaky Cauldron. She recalled that she had blurted everything out to Neville and Hannah as if they had been old friends rather than antagonists while at Hogwarts. Hearing Neville give her credit for saving the lives of Harry and Ginny Potter had done something to make her feel less distant from those who had not supported Voldemort and his Death Eaters. The conversation had been much easier than she could ever have anticipated, as Pansy had never thought her former enemies could have forgiven her so quickly — so readily. But they had, much more deeply moved by what she had done to save Harry and Ginny the preceding night than they had been by her willingness to hand Harry over to the Dark Lord when he had demanded that those in the castle hand over Potter in exchange for the semblance of peace. Pansy’s heart ached at the recollection of having been tossed unceremoniously from her life-long home, yet she felt relief even more strongly somewhere deep within her mind. The conversation had been burned deeply into her consciousness. “You’re welcome to stay here as long as you need shelter,” Hannah had said without hesitation. “After what you did for Harry and Ginny, it’s the least we can do for you.” “But I’m nearly bankrupt, and I have no idea how to come up with more money,” she answered. “Don’t worry about money,” Hannah replied. “Right now, you need a place to rest and some friends to talk with, both of which we can provide you.” Noise from Diagon Alley brought Pansy’s attention back to the present, though she still found the entire development difficult to believe. Had Hannah Abbott and Neville Longbottom actually offered her friendship as well as a free place to live while her life was in shambles? It was the last thing she would have expected to experience outside of her clique of Slytherin acquaintances. She had meant to properly express her gratitude, but an urgent voice had summoned Neville back to the pub and Hannah had left with him. Pansy then stretched, wondering what had been so important, and closed her eyes for a few more hours of sleep. It was all she could think of to soothe the pain of losing everything so suddenly. “So, Kingsley and McGonagall resurrected the idea about leading the Auror Department while I was out?” asked Ginny. “Yes,” answered Harry, “but I told them I was through making decisions without you.” “Only because you now understand what you were missing when you spent almost a year on the run!” Ginny said with a wink. Relieved to see her smiling, Harry sighed audibly. “Stressed, Mr. Potter?” she asked. “Yes,” Harry admitted. “I’d rather settle in peacefully at Hogwarts, but Kingsley was right all along, and so was Ron. We have to clean up this mess and get it done quickly. Otherwise someone is going to rally all the remaining Death Eaters, and this time, he or she will add Blood Purists from all over Europe to the cause.” “It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Ginny inquired. “What is?” replied Harry. “You have to stop them from using the Elder Wand, but if you fight, the Elder Wand will not kill you, so they won’t be stupid enough to use it against you. Unless, of course, someone defeats you with a different wand, in which case you will no longer be the Master of the Elder Wand, and that witch or wizard would possess the wand with all its loyalty … and all its power.” “Right,” said Harry, frustration etched clearly on his face. “But if I don’t fight, the Elder Wand may well work against the Aurors. That’s why Kingsley wants me to lead the team.” “So he feels they didn’t extract all they could from you the last time around?” “I don’t think that’s how he looks at it, Ginny,” he replied. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “I understand. They need you and you won’t feel right unless you do everything you can.” “I think it’s still my job,” Harry said determinedly. “At least it is for now. But I’ll still be able to spend almost every night with you at Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall …” “I heard what the Headmistress said, but we’ll just have to see about that.” “What?” asked Harry, suddenly deeply alarmed. “Don’t you still want to be with me? After all, we are married!” “Don’t be a gormless berk, Potter!” Ginny responded. “You might be spending the nights with me at Hogwarts. Then, again, we might be spending nights together somewhere else.” “What?” repeated Harry, dumbstruck. “I mean that we are most definitely going to be together. We’re going to be together every night, but it may be that I’m with you, wherever that is, rather than you being with me at Hogwarts!” Harry’s pupils dilated suddenly as he stared into Ginny’s bright brown eyes. He had never seen such determination in them before, and long gone was the quiet acquiescence he had seen following Dumbledore’s funeral. He started to speak — to find any suitable words for the circumstance — but couldn’t. “So, I take it you’ve learned from past mistakes, Mr. Potter?” asked Ginny. Harry continued to fidget nervously. He had promised to never unilaterally make this sort of decision again, and he had meant every word. He also knew that she would never allow him to force her to the sideline again, and now that she was no longer pregnant, he wouldn’t have that excuse. Swallowing harder still, he realized that even a pregnancy would not have deterred her from fighting at his side if she thought that to be the best course of action. “Good!” she said, her eyes still latched firmly to his. “It’s nice to see that you know when you’re beaten.” “Uh huh,” he muttered, knowing she was right. “So what’s next?” she asked firmly. “I guess we go with Kingsley for a crash course in advanced Defensive Strategies Against the Darkest Spells,” he answered, frustrated to know he was expected to lead, yet still had much to learn. The protections that had served so well against Voldemort would be almost useless against threats emanating from anything other than the Elder Wand. “That doesn’t start until tomorrow,” said Ginny as she took Harry’s hand gently between her own. “Why don’t we try to find Neville and see what we can do to help? He has to be feeling terrible — his grandmother and Professor Sprout — it has to be devastating.” “But where can we find him?” asked Harry. “At his grandmother’s estate?” “Maybe,” answered Ginny, “but I think I know somewhere else he’s likely to be — someone he’s likely to be with.” “No, love, I was just as surprised as you were when Kingsley insisted that I go with Harry,” Ron said carefully. “But you are going?” Hermione asked, her lips compressed into a thin line of concern. “No, I didn’t say that!” he protested. “I know it’s important to complete my education.” Hermione tried to suppress the laughter that was building inside her but failed miserably. “What are you laughing about, Hermione?” “I’m laughing at the thought of Ron Weasley sitting idly back with his girlfriend at Hogwarts while Harry Potter heads out to face the forces of evil.” “I can … and I … I … I will!” said Ron, color rising in his cheeks as he fought to assert his willingness to abide by the agreement he had struck with Hermione only a couple of hours after Voldemort had fallen. “And you’re not just my girlfriend!” “No, you can’t, Ron, and I wouldn’t let you if you could!” exclaimed Hermione. “You what?” he replied. “I won’t let you come back to Hogwarts, at least not only to be with me,” she said firmly. “But we’re engaged!” Ron continued. “And so we will stay until we are married,” said Hermione, her soft smile laced with love. And so we will stay until we are married?” asked Ron repeating her words. “What in Morgana’s name does that mean?” “It means exactly what I said!” huffed Hermione. “Sometime … sooner or later … our engagement will end with our wedding. Until then, we’ll remain engaged.” “I figured it would have a deeper meaning than that!” Ron replied, matching Hermione huff for huff. “You never say things that obvious.” “Well, it does mean more than that. At least it does if you’re interested.” “Could you not just spell it out for me, Hermione? I’m bloody tired — up all night and all.” “And all?” asked Hermione, grinning fully at Ron’s growing sense of frustration. “Would you have preferred to do without the ‘and all’ and gone straight to sleep?” “Of course not! Why would you think…” but Ron stopped talking as soon as he realized Hermione had been taking the mickey. Silence ruled over the young couple, but Hermione rejoiced in the comfort of it. As much as she hated to admit it, a little bickering with Ron was simply fun. At last, she stopped giggling and looked deeply into his bright blue eyes. “Ron, one of two things is going to happen. Either I will be going with you and Harry into this conflict, or I will be heading back to Hogwarts on September first.” “Okay.” “If I return to Hogwarts, you’ll probably need to visit me there.” “Okay,” he said again. “I don’t want to go sneaking about in search of a filthy broom closet. In fact, I won’t. I simply won’t.” “Or …?” asked Ron. “Or I’ll be with you every day, sometimes in crowds of Aurors.” “Of course,” Ron replied, wrinkling his brow expressively “I’m telling you that, in either event, I think it best that we get married sooner rather than later.” “Are you sure?” Ron asked, stunned, yet smiling irrepressibly. “I’m completely sure,” said Hermione, pulling her fiancé back into their bed. “And that’s not all I’m completely sure of,” she added before her lips were covered and Ron’s hands were again running all over her — touching her just as he had been doing only moments before they stumbled into the Weasley clan at the breakfast table. “I love you, Hermione!” Ron nearly shouted when at last their lips parted, if only momentarily. “So you’re saying yes to my proposal?” she asked happily. “Was there ever any doubt?” he asked in return. “Never,” Hermione answered before pressing her lips to his. “No doubt, whatsoever!” Hannah cradled a broken Neville Longbottom in her arms, placing occasional kisses on his forehead. Disturbing news had begun flowing into The Leaky Cauldron shortly after midnight concerning a problem at Hogwarts, taking the assembled crowd completely by surprise. Everyone had expected the demise of the Dark Lord to bring about immediate peace. Everyone, that is, except the Longbottoms and a few other magical families who had suffered greatly at the hands of angry Death Eaters after Voldemort’s disappearance following his first confrontation with Harry Potter. As a result of their family’s experience, Augusta and Neville Longbottom had been more than willing to answer Headmistress McGonagall’s request for volunteers to watch over Dumbledore’s tomb. Few knew that the Elder Wand had been returned there following Voldemort’s death. Nevertheless, Harry, Shacklebolt, and McGonagall had thought it wise to post a guard. “It’s all my fault,” muttered Neville, his body shaking fiercely despite the fact that his eyes remained dry. “Your fault?” asked Hannah, as she came to understand more fully why Neville hadn’t slept a wink through the night. As the noon hour approached, she silently redoubled her commitment to be there as long as he needed her. “Last night was supposed to be my turn to watch at Hogwarts, but Gram took my place so I could rest before starting work at the Apothecary.” Hannah drew a deep breath as the final pieces clicked into place. Neville was holding himself responsible for his grandmother’s death, and it broke her heart. Over the past few weeks, she had come to respect this quiet, unassuming wizard more than she would have ever thought possible. She had heard stories of the transformation that had become obvious in Neville during what would have been her seventh year at Hogwarts. However, following the murder of her mother, Hannah had not returned to school. As a result, the changes that led Neville to stand defiantly before Lord Voldemort and slay the evil wizard’s snake had been more of a surprise to Hannah than to the students who had been with him as he and Ginny stepped forward to lead the D.A. She paused momentarily to admit that what appeared to be such a sudden change in her eyes had also served to make Neville almost shockingly more appealing. “Yes, my fault,” answered Neville, bringing Hannah back to the present. “It’s my fault that Gram died. I should have been the one there last night.” “No!” gasped Hannah, shocked by the intensity with which the thought of Neville’s fallen body terrified her. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kill her.” “Might as well have,” said Neville, a tone of self-derision clear in his voice. “It’s all my fault!” he exclaimed, slamming his fist against the pillow. “Gram and my favorite professor … both dead … both dead because she thought I needed sleep.” “No!” Hannah reiterated. “It isn’t your fault. You didn’t do anything wrong, and your Gram wanted you to have a good start at your job. Anyway, she had her own nights on watch. It could have happened on any of those nights.” “But it happened on my night,” Neville continued. Hannah struggled to find words that might have an impact upon this young man she was rapidly growing to love. She had never had to face the concept that she might have been the cause of her mother’s death. It had been a tragedy that happened to her, not as a result of something she might have done differently. Her mind raced, knowing that anything she said would sound hollow to a person who had endured as much as had Neville. “Merlin!” she thought silently. “How could I have ever doubted why he belonged in Gryffindor? So brave … so strong … so demanding of himself.” “I don’t know what to say, love,” whispered Hannah as she placed yet another kiss on Neville’s brow. The endearment had slipped so naturally from her lips that it didn’t even surprise her. “I don’t know how to make you feel any better — make you see…” But before she could finish her sentence, the desk bell rang, announcing the arrival of visitors. With two soft pops, Harry and Ginny arrived in the small courtyard that divided The Leaky Cauldron from Diagon Alley. The newlyweds had left number twelve, Grimmauld Place in a great hurry and Healer Smethwyck’s sleeping potion remained untouched. Harry had noticed their unspoken decision but somehow knew that their mutual friend would need them now more than ever. “Do you really think they’ll be here?” asked Harry. “Yes,” answered Ginny confidently. “Hannah and her family have purchased the pub and she’s learning how to run the place from Tom.” “Are they moving him out?” asked Harry. “No, not from what I’ve heard,” Ginny replied. “But Hannah will take over the operations as soon as she is able. Tom will be staying on as an employee, just as before.” After passing through the bar, Harry absentmindedly tapped the bell that rested upon the countertop of the tiny reception desk. Moments later, a slight shuffling could be heard from upstairs, followed by the appearance of an exhausted looking Hannah Abbott. “Ginny … Harry!” said Hannah, a warm, yet muted smile crossing her face. “Hi, Hannah,” Ginny replied. “You look like you haven’t slept.” “No, I haven’t,” the blonde witch answered. “Though you look like you’ve been through hell yourself.” “She looks more beautiful than ever,” said Harry, the words escaping his lips before he could stop them. “I mean, I almost lost her last night…” “That’s okay, Harry,” said Hannah. “Been up with Neville?” asked Ginny, eager to change the subject. “It isn’t pretty,” answered Hannah. “He’s blaming himself for the deaths of both his grandmother and Professor Sprout. I can’t make him see that it isn’t his fault.” “I understand,” said Harry, the voice of experience ringing through his words. The feel of Ginny’s arm wrapping gently around his shoulder told him that his wife understood as well. Then, again, Ginny always understood him, even if she didn’t always agree with his decisions. He stopped for just a moment to reflect on how fortunate he was to have a partner who knew him so well and supported him so completely. “We thought we’d stop by to visit,” said Ginny softly. “Of course, that’s if you don’t mind.” Harry marveled at Ginny’s touch. He knew that Hannah and Neville had been seeing quite a lot of one another since the Battle of Hogwarts, but Ginny, it seemed, understood implicitly that there was more to this young relationship than a few meals out and an escort for the post-war funerals and a wedding. “Certainly,” said Hannah, her voice equally soft and filled with concern for Neville. “He’s up in Room 11.” Hannah began to step aside to allow the Potters unimpeded access to the stairwell but, this time, Harry was the one to intuit the proper response. “Hannah, you are more than welcome to join us.” “Are you sure?” asked Hannah, obviously willing to do whatever was best for Neville. “Of course,” Harry replied. “I’m sure it will mean the world to Neville to have you with him.” Harry looked deeply into Neville’s agonized face, not needing any further explanation for the debilitating emotions that were so obviously consuming his friend. He knew the horrors that were racing through Neville’s mind only too well. Empathizing with his condition, Harry reached down and placed one hand on Ginny’s that was, in turn, tightly holding on to Neville’s. To his side, Hannah was holding Neville’s other hand while occasionally planting gentle kisses on his eyebrow, forehead, or temple. “No, it isn’t your fault!” Harry insisted. It was at least the tenth time he had repeated the phrase in less than an hour. “But it is,” Neville mumbled, shaking his head from side to side. “No! No it isn’t!” Harry repeated. “But it …” “NO!” Harry said as forcefully as he could without screaming. “It isn’t your fault. The fault lies with the witches and wizards who attacked your grandmother and Professor Sprout.” Neville’s face screwed up as if he had fallen into renewed pain of the most unimaginable sort, causing Harry to curse at himself for stupidly identifying the people being mourned. It was too soon to try to help Neville heal. For the time being, Harry needed his friend to do nothing more than see reality, that he was in no way responsible for their deaths. “No, Neville, please,” Harry resumed. “It isn’t your fault. But I know exactly how you feel.” “No you don’t!” Neville protested. “You were always fighting against evil, not letting people die in your stead.” “But that’s where you’re wrong,” answered Harry. “Didn’t you hear Voldemort listing the people that died in my stead? Don’t you know how horrible it was to think that they all died so I could live … Tonks, Lupin, Colin Creevey, Moody, Dumbledore, Sirius, my mum and dad.” “But that was never your fault, Harry. That never would have happened if the Dark Lord hadn’t learned of that stupid prophecy.” “That’s right!” said Harry, glad to see that Neville was capable of seeing the truth, at least when it didn’t apply to him. “And you’re not responsible for anything that happened tonight at Hogwarts.” “But it’s different.” “No, it’s not,” Harry insisted. “Evil people are trying to follow in Voldemort’s footsteps. They were going to kill everyone there, and unless I’m terribly mistaken, they did it with total surprise — just like they tried at our wedding.” “I don’t know,” Neville said softly, the will to fight obviously declining at a rapid rate. “I wasted years of my life trying to blame myself for causing tragedies. I even hid from my closest friends for nearly an entire day, afraid I might kill against my own will — afraid that I was possessed by Voldemort.” “Which was NEVER the case,” said Ginny, a note of tension lacing her words. “Of course, had you had the brains to ask someone who might know about such things …” “What?” asked Neville, surprised to hear any tension exchanged between Harry and Ginny. “Harry has always tried to blame himself for things that weren’t his doing,” said Ginny. “He even tried to blame himself for becoming Nagini and attacking my dad at the Department of Mysteries, all while he was sleeping safely at Hogwarts.” “A dream?” asked Neville. “A vision would be a better description,” said Harry. “But Ginny’s right, and everything Hannah and I have been telling you is just as true. You simply are not responsible for anything that happened tonight. It was just the way things turned out. Anyone unfortunate enough to be there was marked for death.” “And thank Merlin it wasn’t you!” interjected Hannah before leaning forward, taking Neville’s face between her hands and kissing him firmly upon the lips. “Thank Merlin it wasn’t you. I couldn’t take losing another person I love.” Harry, Ginny, and Neville all looked up instantly. When the shock had worn off, Harry and Ginny looked away from the pair who were still locked in an embrace. “You … you … love me?” stammered Neville. “I do,” Hannah replied. Harry winked in Ginny’s direction before standing up and patting Neville softly on the back. “I think we’ll leave you two alone, but fire-call if you want to talk some more.” Wasting no more time, Harry pulled Ginny to her feet. Moments later they had wished Hannah good-bye and departed from the room. “We’d better hurry, or everyone will be showing up for dinner,” whispered Ginny. Harry recognized the playful smile on her face and turned to face his wife with a questioning look on his face. “But Healer Smethwyck was adamant when he said we had to wait two weeks,” he said for at least the second time that morning. “No, Harry. He said I had to wait two weeks before I lift heavy objects, bend over too far, or do anything too stressful to my abdomen. He didn’t say anything about you.” “But, Ginny …” “Don’t ‘but Ginny’ me!” she said, nearly hissing in the process. “I’ve already told you it could be all about you and still be all about me.” Harry relaxed, seeing that his wife had transitioned from hissing to flirting in the blink of an eye. “Just take me home,” she concluded. “And be thankful you have such a wonderful wife.” So he did … taking in her by Apparition, saving enough room for mental deliberation concerning their destination, yet never losing focus of the jewel who was his wife — the woman who was able to handle so many concurrent stresses and strains while never losing sight of the things in life that were of utmost importance. |
| Reviews 188 |
Previous Next
|
