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SIYE Time:4:48 on 29th March 2024
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Harry Potter and the Curse's Legacy
By Frelling

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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations, Violence
Rating: R
Reviews: 48
Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years ***

Harry begins his seventh year in the magical world, facing the tasks that are ahead of him and considering the decisions he's already made. Relying on the strength of his friends and the knowledge he's gained in his six years of training, can he defeat Voldemort? Book seven, as canon as can be, given that I'm not JKR. Wraps up all the loose ends that JKR has left us and adds more fun and adventure to the lives of Harry and Co. Rated R for later chapters.
Hitcount: Story Total: 29001; Chapter Total: 3309





Author's Notes:
Many thanks again to my wonderful beta Ken, who makes each chapter much better than it is when I send it to him. He had far more input on this chapter than any previous, and I think it shows. My apologies for taking so long with this one - real life got ugly and I'm sure you all know how that can be. Thanks for your patience.




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“It can’t be that simple,” Hermione muttered from her spot on the bed next to Ron. The four of them were again reading Dumbledore’s notes and books about the founders in Harry’s room, taking their own notes on anything that might be related to items that Voldemort would consider significant enough to turn into Horcruxes.

Ron looked up from The Legend of Helga Hufflepuff to ask, “What can’t be that simple?”

She looked back and forth between her notes and the three books she had spread in front of her and shook her head. “What do you know about the Holy Grail?”

“I know that a lot of people spent a lot of time looking for it and never found it,” Ginny answered. Harry and Ron murmured agreement.

Hermione sat up straight and assumed the familiar expression that said that she was about to explain something that she felt should be common knowledge. “The Grail itself was an object of great mystery; no one knows what it looked like or where it was hidden. But there were four other objects associated with the Grail in ancient legend and most people have now forgotten about them.” Her eyes scanned her friends as she continued, “There was a sword, a bowl or cup, a coin or medallion, and a staff or wand!”

Her excitement was lost on the other three; she huffed impatiently. “Don’t you see? These items have always been associated with each other, and there are four of them!”

It took Harry a moment before he got the gist of what Hermione was saying. Just before he could open his mouth to respond, Hermione continued her speech. “What if the reason these four items are important, the reason they’re associated with the Grail, is because they’re related to the founders but Muggles wouldn’t know that and would give them different meaning?” She scribbled something else on her parchment and looked back up.

Ron looked deep in thought, but didn’t say anything.

Then something in Harry’s brain clicked, and he nodded slowly to Hermione. “Gryffindor’s sword, Hufflepuff’s cup, and Slytherin’s locket make sense. Does this mean that the last Horcrux we’re looking for is a staff or wand?”

Hermione beamed at him. “Yes! Obviously Voldemort didn’t get the chance to make Gryffindor’s sword into a Horcrux because it’s been in Dumbledore’s office this whole time, but we know for certain that he had the cup and the locket! So the last item he’d need is -”

“Ravenclaw’s wand!” Ron interrupted. He reached over and placed a loud kiss on Hermione’s cheek. “You’re brilliant!”

Harry was hesitant to join in the celebrations. Hermione’s right. It can’t be that simple. “You really think that this is the connection we’re looking for?”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. “It seems simple, I know, but it all makes sense. Every book I’ve read has mentioned Gryffindor’s sword or Hufflepuff’s cup or Slytherin’s locket, but there haven’t been any items associated with Ravenclaw at all. By all accounts, she was a very studious witch who rarely left the castle after Hogwarts was founded. She didn’t have any special things that she used or wore, but one thing she always would have had around her, just like every other witch and wizard, is her wand.”

Harry found himself warming to the idea and closed the folder containing Dumbledore’s notes with a snap. “Well, it’s the best guess we’ve got at this point, even if we don’t know where to begin looking for it.” He lay back onto Ginny’s lap and she began running her fingers through his hair. He grinned up at her. “All right then, then it sounds like we need to stop trying to figure out what the Horcruxes are for now and focus more on where Voldemort would have hidden them. Other than Dumbledore’s notes,” he gestured at the stack of parchment lying at his feet on the bed, “Any ideas where to start with that?”

All four of them sat in silence for a few minutes before Ron said, “Ideas or no, it’s almost lunchtime and I’m famished. We can think about it later.”

“You two head down — I want to talk to Harry for a minute,” Ginny said.

Ron scowled. “Talk. Right.” But he climbed off the bed and led Hermione out of the room, leaving the door open behind him.

Ginny waved her wand and shut the door, casting a few charms under her breath that Harry assumed were for locking and silencing. The idea of being alone in a locked room with Ginny for the first time in a week sent a thrill through him, and he found himself grinning like an idiot.

“And what are you smiling about, Harry?” Ginny teased, running her fingers down his cheek. Harry raised a finger and tapped his lips, trying to appear deep in thought. “Let’s see…I’m alone in a locked and silenced room with my head on the lap of the most amazing witch I’ve ever known. Nope, no reason at all to be smiling.”

Ginny grinned down at him. “I can think of something better,” she challenged.

“Oh?” Harry asked, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and sitting up beside her. He was trying to sound nonchalant, but he had the feeling that the rapid beating of his heart was preventing him from keeping his voice steady.

“Yes, definitely. I am sitting in a locked and silenced room beside the most incredible wizard I’ve ever seen, and if he plays his cards right I’m going to be kissing him in just a moment.” She cast him a challenging look and licked her lips.

He swallowed heavily and played along. “And what would a bloke have to do to play his cards right?” He was having a hard time looking anywhere but her mouth.

She leaned toward him and whispered, “He would just have to remain exactly,” - she moved closer — “where,” — closer still — “he is.” The inches between them closed and her lips met his, soft and gentle as she wove her fingers through his hair and held him in place.

He heard a soft moan, but he couldn’t tell whether it was hers or his and couldn’t bring himself to care. His arms snaked around her and he leaned back on the bed, pulling her on top of his body. Every nerve was on fire and he found himself tugging on the bottom of her blouse, lifting it to expose her ribs to his searching fingers. Ginny ground her hips against his and he lost all rational thought for several moments. When it returned to him, he found that Ginny was insistently pulling at his own t-shirt and he rose briefly off the bed to pull it over his head. Ginny sat upright and straddled his hips to allow this, and after he straightened his glasses he reached forward and began unbuttoning her top. His eyes sought hers out, asking permission. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and his fingers made quick work of the remaining buttons.

He slid the fabric from her shoulders and inhaled sharply. He’d had dreams about this very thing, ever since she first introduced his hands to her chest at Grimmauld Place. Her pale skin was lightly freckled across her shoulders and down her chest, disappearing into the white cotton bra she was wearing. After a moment, he realized that he was staring and reached out a hand to stroke her shoulder. She inclined her head toward his touch and her fiery hair dropped over his hand, spilling around her face and chest.

“I want you to touch me, Harry,” she whispered as she brought her hands around her back.

Harry gaped as she drew the loose straps down her arms. “Gin — I — bloody brilliant,” he stammered as he took in the sight of her bare breasts. She smiled down at him, placing her hands over his own and slowly drawing them down her shoulders and onto her exposed breasts. He ran a thumb experimentally over one pink nipple and was rewarded with a sound from Ginny that his hazy brain could define only as a purr.

He lost track of all time as she continued making small noises and he moved his hands along her torso. Whenever she shifted her weight, he felt sparks shoot though his body. When he could take it no longer, he grasped her firmly by the waist and flipped her onto her back and covered her body with his own. He kissed her firmly and then began working his way down her neck. He heard her breathe the word, “Yes,” as he took one velvet nipple between his lips and teased it with his tongue. He thought that it was the best sound he’d ever heard. Slowly, he kissed his way back up her body to her face, relishing the feel of her bare skin against his.

“Oh, Harry,” she gasped, “That was amazing.” He smiled between kisses and rolled to his back, nestling her against his side.

“You’re the one who’s amazing, Gin,” he panted, trying to catch his breath and slow his heartbeat. “Your skin is so soft,” he ran his hand down her back to emphasize his point, “and have I ever told you that you smell incredible?”

She giggled softly. “I smell good?”

He nodded. “I smelled you in the Amortentia potion Slughorn showed us. It’s supposed to smell like whatever attracts us, and mine smelled like broomsticks, treacle tart, and you.”

“Wonder what mine would smell like,” she pondered aloud. “I’m sure you’d be in there somewhere.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “And what do I smell like?”

“Kind of musky, like a boy should smell, and a bit like grass. Of course, right now you also smell a bit sweaty.” She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. “You smell like Harry.”

They lay in silence, caressing each other lightly, for a few minutes before Ginny spoke again. “They kept you in a cupboard, Harry?” Her voice was soft and hesitant, but her palm pressed reassuringly against his chest.

Harry sighed and nodded. “Until my Hogwarts letters started coming — they were addressed to my cupboard. I think they were worried about getting in trouble for keeping me there, so they moved me to Dudley’s second bedroom and I stayed there until the end.”

She shuddered against him. “Was it awful?”

He pondered for a moment. “I don’t know. It was all I knew, so it seemed perfectly normal to me at the time. Does that make sense?”

“In a horrible way, yes.” She released a deep breath. “And you never told anyone? A teacher or a friend?”

“There was no one to tell. My teachers all thought I was odd, and the Dursleys always put on a big show of being perfect in front of everyone else. Any friends I might have made were scared away by Dudley and his gang.” Harry wondered for a moment why Ginny had brought this all up, and decided he didn’t care. He’d never talked to anyone about it, not even Ron and Hermione, but somehow it seemed right to talk to her. “I was lonely for sure, but I didn’t know any other way to be. I can’t remember the number of times I sat in my cupboard and wished for someone to take me away from it all, to tell me I had family who would take care of me and not treat me as if I were something disgusting to be ignored at every turn. And then Hagrid showed up, and it was as if my wishes had all come true.” He paused and kissed the top of her head, running his hand up and down her arm. “I even got to see my family that winter in the Mirror of Erised, and Hagrid gave me that photo album. After that, it didn’t seem to matter anymore that the Dursleys were horrible to me; I knew that I had parents who loved me and friends who cared — that’s what made it so hard that summer when Dobby was stopping my mail. It made me wonder if Ron and Hermione really did care about me.”

Ginny wiped away a tear. “I’m sorry to bring it up, Harry, but I just can’t understand why they would be so horrible to you of all people. I’ve been thinking about it quite a lot since you left your aunt’s house.”

He sighed heavily. “It’s all right, Gin, I don’t mind talking about this stuff with you. But it’s over now, and I never have to see another Dursley again for as long as I live.” He smiled and squeezed her against him. “We should probably go down for lunch before someone comes knocking. I don’t fancy Ron or your mum finding us like this.” He glanced down at her bare chest pressed against his side and ran a finger down the side of her breast.

When they were clothed and appeared downstairs in the kitchen, Hermione gave them a sly smile and asked, “Did you two have a nice talk?” which caused both of them to blush a bit before Harry, after a moment of thought and a soft look at Ginny, said, “Yeah. Yeah we did.”

The next few days were more of the same, with time spent reading Dumbledore’s notes and helping Mrs. Weasley prepare for the wedding. It was originally to be held in France, but with the advanced wards that had been placed around The Burrow for Harry’s stay it was decided that things would be safer in England.

For some reason the prospect of viewing the memories Dumbledore had left did not appeal to Harry. He was curious about their contents, but the thought of what he might see filled him unexplained dread. He continued to make excuses to himself to avoid the inevitable, but four days before the wedding he realized that time was running out and he could avoid it no longer He told his friends he was going to have a kip and left them in the sitting room as he ascended the stairs to his room feeling a little guilty about the lie. He couldn’t explain it, but it seemed as if saying his intentions aloud would make him lose his courage.

Harry opened the box Dumbledore gave him and withdrew the Pensieve. Setting it on his desk, he began to rifle through the bottles and chuckled to himself as he noticed just how very well-labeled and organized they were. Soon he found the three memories he’d been looking for, all labeled Severus Snape in Dumbledore’s thin, slanted writing. Uncorking the first memory, he poured it hesitantly into the Pensieve. With a deep breath, he pressed his face to the surface of the swirling liquid and felt the familiar falling that accompanied entering the memory.

He found himself standing in the Headmaster’s office, beside Dumbledore, looking out the window onto the grounds. It was autumn, by the look of it, and the Forbidden Forest was awash with various shades of red and gold that reminded him of Ginny’s hair. He was beginning to wonder what of importance was contained in this memory when he turned to Dumbledore’s desk and saw Snape sitting across from the headmaster’s chair. Snape appeared to be about twenty or so — was he Potions Master yet? — and no better-looking than he was now, or than he’d been as a fifteen-year-old. The tension in the room was palpable, and Harry wondered what had brought it on.

Snape’s face was grey and his black eyes bore into Dumbledore.

“You say that precautions have been taken for their safety,” he said.

“So they have,” answered Dumbledore calmly.

“Yet you will not tell me what they are.” There was a tension in his voice that Harry could not understand.

Dumbledore looked at Snape steadily, and then spoke slowly and carefully, as if delivering a difficult lesson. “Severus, surely you see that to tell anyone the precautions would compromise them.”

“You don’t trust me,” he accused.

The Headmaster barely hesitated. “Would you be trusting in my position, knowing what is at stake?”

“I have told you, Headmaster. If I had known for a moment that the prophecy referred to Lily — ” and to Harry’s astonishment, he actually heard Snape’s voice catch, as if he was nearly moved to tears. Snape, upset? Snape losing control over a risk to Harry’s mother?

The lank-haired man continued, “It is my fault that she is in danger. It is my fault that the Dark Lord is trying to kill her. You must let me help. You must let me — ” and again the voice seemed nearly to catch. Harry felt as if he’d stumbled into some other reality.

Dumbledore’s face looked sad and sympathetic. “You might extend the same concern for her husband and son,” he observed gently.

A look of genuine pain came over Snape’s face; Harry almost didn’t recognize it. “You know I cannot do that. You know why.” His voice was strained and grating.

“Yes, I do, Severus. I do not mock your feelings, nor would I. But you are a grown man, not a boy, and she is married to another. If you love her as you say you do, you will honor what she loves and protect it.”

Snape’s face set like stone and he rose from his chair, leaving room without a word.

The memory ended and Harry found himself standing back in his room at The Burrow, stunned. Snape had feelings for my mum. He sat down heavily on the bed as the idea turned itself over in his mind. He recalled the way his mother stood up for Snape in the memory of the Marauders’ tormenting him and wondered if they’d been friends. But he called her Mudblood. Why would he do that to someone he claims to love?

Steeling himself for more unpleasant revelations, he returned the memory to its bottle and added the second to the Pensieve.

He was back in the Headmaster’s office, and before him sat Dumbledore and Snape, with one of the Prewitt brothers, whom Harry recognized from the photo of the Order of the Phoenix Moody had shown him at Grimmauld Place, standing between them. Harry realized that this must be sometime before Voldemort’s first downfall, as the Prewitts had been killed during the first war.

Dumbledore gazed impassively at Snape and said, “This is not our only option, Severus. You must know that I do not require this of you.”

“I understand that, Headmaster, but I am placing myself in a very tenuous situation and I want you to harbor no doubts about my loyalties,” Snape replied.

Dumbledore nodded, but looked a trifle sad to Harry. “Are you ready, Severus?” the Headmaster asked.

Snape murmured assent, and Dumbledore gestured to Ginny and Ron’s uncle. “Then we may begin.” Snape took Dumbledore’s right hand in his own and the unknown Prewitt placed the tip of his wand on their hands.

Dumbledore began, “Will you, Severus, serve the Order of the Phoenix to the best of your abilities?”

Snape’s face was unreadable as he replied, “I will.”

An Unbreakable Vow? Harry wondered as a bright red flame emerged from the tip of their bonder’s wand and wrapped itself around the clasped hands.

“And will you obey any order I give you as leader of the Order of the Phoenix?”

Again, Snape replied, “I will.”

A second flame joined the first.

“Finally, will you do everything in your power to protect the life of Harry James Potter?” Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled brightly at this last condition.

Snape stiffened a bit but said, “I will.”

The final flame intertwined with the other two and glowed brightly for a moment before extinguishing.

When Harry returned to his bedroom, he shook his head to clear it. He swore to protect me. The greasy git has been protecting me all this time.

He sat down on his bed to consider for a moment. I understand why Dumbledore wanted me to see these memories, he thought to himself. Have I been wrong about Snape all along?

He took several minutes to collect himself before entering the third memory, and after a moment he was again in the Headmaster’s office.

Snape — now the Snape Harry remembered — burst through the door without knocking. He stood for a moment, eyes wide, face pale, hands trembling slightly. “You cannot ask this of me. No one could do it. It’s unbearable!”

Dumbledore smiled at Snape as if he were speaking to a small child. “What is it that you cannot bear, Severus?”

“Potter!” Snape spat. “Harry Potter in my classroom! Lily’s eyes in — in James Potter’s face! It’s like looking at a ghost. Two ghosts. Seven years of staring at that will drive me mad!” He sat down heavily on the chair in front of the Headmaster’s desk and put his face in his hands.

Dumbledore’s face was not without sympathy, but it had the same unyielding firmness Harry had seen in the first memory. “You have borne more difficult burdens than this in your life, Severus. There is nothing to fear but your own memory. You have the strength to withstand the task.”

Harry wasn’t positive, but as he left the memory he thought he saw Snape’s shoulders shaking as if he were crying.

So that’s why he’s been so awful to me over the years? Harry wondered when he found himself back in his room for the third time.

Feeling weary, as if everything he’d ever held true had been proven false, Harry pondered what to do about it and decided to share his discovery with his friends. He trudged down the stairs and, when the three of them looked up at him expectantly, he confessed. “I looked at some memories that Dumbledore left me.”

Hermione perked up. “Which ones?”

“The Snape ones,” Harry replied. “There were three.” He recounted their contents, and had to force himself not to laugh out loud at Ron’s disgusted look when he disclosed that Snape had harbored such intense feelings for Lily.

“Blimey, Harry, that’s disgusting!” Ron exclaimed before he shook his head in disbelief. “Ugh. The idea of Snape snogging someone is enough to put me off food forever.”

“I’ll have to agree with you there, Ron,” Harry agreed. “But the memory about the Unbreakable Vow means that Snape really was acting on Dumbledore’s orders when he killed him, or he’d have died on top of the Astronomy tower the second he cast the curse.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully. “But how does that help us if Snape has rejoined Voldemort? He won’t know that it’s safe to contact us, or that we’d trust him if he did.”

“Yeah. That’s why I need to figure out a way to contact him to let him know that we know the truth. And I’m not sure that we should tell the whole Order, or Snape’s cover might be blown. It might be best to keep this between ourselves, and maybe tell the new leader of the Order once that’s decided,” Harry explained.

Hermione sighed and shifted on the couch, bringing her legs up underneath her. “How about a post owl? There’d be no way for anyone to know where it came from except whoever read the letter. If you make the letter cryptic enough, so that only you and Snape can understand it, then it should be safe.”

“That’s brilliant, Hermione!” Ron crossed over to her and kissed her soundly on the cheek; she smiled sweetly at him.

Harry was floored that such a simple solution presented itself so quickly. “We can go to the owl office when we go to Diagon Alley for wedding presents. That gives us the rest of this week to come up with a message.”

“I’ll start working on it right away,” Hermione declared, pulling out quill and parchment. “Don’t want to wait until the last minute.”

Harry sat down beside her on the sofa and began wracking his brain to come up with references that only he and Snape would know. “He knows who Padfoot is — how about ‘Padfoot’s godson knows the truth about the Half-Blood Prince,’ is that good enough?”

Ginny shook her head as she sat on his lap. “No, Wormtail knows who Padfoot was, so if he saw the message he would know it was from you.”

Harry sighed. This is going to be difficult. “You’re right, I’d forgotten about Wormtail.”

“How about ‘I know the greasy git isn’t as greasy as he seems,’ would that work?” Ron offered flippantly.

Hermione swatted him on the shoulder and huffed, “This is serious, Ronald.”

Ron raised his hands defensively. “I know — I’m just trying to have a little fun with it, all right?”

Harry cast Ron an appreciative grin as they all settled in to thinking.

“What about ‘The boomslang skin thief knows the truth about the skin’s owner?’” Hermione offered.

Harry shot that down, reasoning that it was actually Barty Crouch Jr. who did the thieving and they didn’t want Snape thinking that it was him contacting Snape, despite the Dementor’s Kiss. He briefly considered bringing up the memory he’d seen in the Pensieve of Snape’s fifth year, but rejected that as being too potentially inflammatory. “I’ve got it!” he shouted after several minutes of deep thought. He reached around Ginny and grabbed the parchment from an incredulous Hermione and wrote:

I escaped Veritaserum twice, but I know the truth without it.

“Snape threatened me with Veritaserum once, then he gave Umbridge Veritaserum to use on me, but I avoided drinking it. I hope he knows I avoided drinking it. Hopefully he’ll recognize my writing after six years of essays, so that should help him be sure it’s from me,” he reasoned as he passed the note around to his approving friends. “Now we just need the post owl.”

That Friday, the group headed to Diagon Alley to shop for wedding gifts, and Harry treated Ginny to her shopping spree. Under the watchful eyes of Remus and Tonks, they wandered the street, stopping in whatever shops attracted their eyes until it was almost time to return. Harry pulled Ginny and Tonks with him to the owl office and sent his message to Snape with a wink to Ginny, who was laden with shopping bags from her birthday present. “And now we wait,” he muttered to her as they left the post office. She cast him a reassuring smile and he couldn’t help but stop and kiss her. A flash bulb went off, distracting both of them as Tonks shooed away the offending photographer.

“I certainly hope that was a tourist and not a reporter,” Hermione stated as she, Ron, and Remus joined them.

Harry sighed and nodded in agreement. “That’s all I need; a headline in the Daily Prophet proclaiming me The Boy Who Snogged.” Ginny snorted, but Harry turned to her and took her hands in his. “I’m not sure it’s funny, Gin. If that photo gets out, there’s no telling how much danger you might be in.”

She sobered quickly and looked back into his eyes. “I’ve already told you, Harry, I’m in danger regardless of what’s in the papers. Stop worrying about it and just live your life.”

Neither can live while the other survives, he thought, but held his tongue and simply wrapped his arm around her shoulders, holding her close to his side as they returned to the twins’ shop to Floo back to The Burrow.

The next day dawned bright and clear; a perfect day for a wedding. Mrs. Weasley was a virtual human whirlwind, flitting around the house and garden, anxiously making sure that everything was perfect. Harry and Ron managed to stay out of her path for the most part by hiding out in Ron’s room playing chess, but as noon approached they were pried from their haven and enlisted to place chairs for the ceremony. Charlie and the twins were already at work when they arrived in the garden, having been told off repeatedly by their mother for engaging in mid-air fights with the folding seats they were supposed to be levitating into place. With five of them working, they completed the task in short order and stopped to survey the results. The garden looked pretty, Harry had to admit: a vast white marquee decorated with greenery and large white bows had been erected to shield guests from the summer sun, and the seating was arranged around a dais topped with an arch of still more foliage.

As the men headed back into the house to shower and change their clothes, Harry noticed the day’s Daily Prophet sitting on the kitchen table.

Boy Who Lived Finds Love At Last! shouted the headline over a moving photo of him kissing Ginny over and over. With a resigned sigh, Harry picked up the paper to see what the public was reading about his life now.

Harry Potter, who recently celebrated his seventeenth birthday, was spotted yesterday outside the Diagon Alley owl office demonstrating his affection for Ginevra Weasley, who turns sixteen this coming Monday. Sources close to the couple claim that they have been involved since early May of this year and are rarely seen outside each other’s company. Has The Boy Who Lived finally found a lady worthy of him, or is Miss Weasley simply seeking to attach herself to the young man that Witch Weekly recently declared the wizarding world’s Most Eligible Bachelor for her own ends? Perhaps more can be learned today at the wedding of Miss Weasley’s brother, William Weasley, to Fleur Delacour of La Rochelle, France.

Harry declined to turn to page four, where the article continued, and angrily wadded the paper into a ball before Banishing it. If I find out who the “sources close to the couple” are, they’ll need to run quickly. He needed to find Ginny to talk to her about this, and headed up the stairs to her room; he knocked impatiently. But all thoughts of the article, and most other thoughts too, fled his brain when she opened the door and he beheld her in shimmering golden robes with her hair trained in flowing ringlets down her shoulders. The midday sun streaming through the window behind her gave her an ethereal glow, and the expectant look she was giving him made his breath catch in his chest.

“Merlin, Gin, you’re gorgeous,” he sighed as he reached out to cup her cheek.

She rewarded him with a wide smile and a quick peck on the cheek. “And you’re very sweet, Harry. Did Mum need something else?”

He pulled her out onto the landing. “No, I wanted to ask if you saw today’s Prophet.”

Her eyes narrowed and she huffed, “Yes. But who cares what they say? I certainly don’t.”

“They mentioned the wedding today, Gin. I have a bad feeling about this,” he explained. “Promise me you’ll keep your wand with you and be watchful of anything strange happening.”

She grinned wickedly as she pulled her wand from her cleavage. Harry’s mouth dried instantly. “I’m prepared, Harry. Always. Now, if you’re done ogling me, I have to go help Fleur finish getting ready.” Kissing him softly, she commented, “And unless you plan on escorting me in jeans and a t-shirt, I suggest you get ready yourself.” She returned to her room and left a dazed Harry staring blankly into the space she had just occupied. After collecting himself, he found Ron, gave him the same warning he’d given Ginny, and returned to his room to prepare himself for the wedding.

The ceremony was brief but interesting for Harry, as he’d never before been to a wedding, Muggle or magical. He suspected that the major difference was the wand-joining portion of the wizarding vows, but didn’t spare much thought on the matter as his gaze was constantly distracted by Ginny. For her part, she alternated between watching her brother and his new wife and casting her eyes at Harry, and each time their eyes met she gave him a small smile that made him feel uncomfortably warm in his dress robes.

After the wedding party proceeded down the aisle, Harry stood from his seat and waited for the opportunity to file out after them. Out the corner of his eye, he noticed a familiar figure talking animatedly with a woman he didn’t recognize on the bride’s side of the seating. What’s Viktor Krum doing here? he wondered. Fleur must have invited him because of his being a Triwizard champion. He shot a look back over Hermione’s head at Ron, and raised his eyebrows meaningfully in Krum’s direction. Ron immediately bristled and put a hand on Hermione’s shoulder, much to Harry’s amusement. It appeared that Hermione hadn’t noticed Krum’s presence yet, and Harry idly wondered how long the inevitable could be postponed. Shrugging mentally, he decided that he had better things to do than watch Ron get worked up over something he probably shouldn’t and went off to find Ginny. He had no desire to get caught in the middle of the row that was likely to erupt if Hermione so much as said hello to Viktor.

After a delicious dinner and several rounds of toasts in honor of the newlyweds, Charlie motioned toward the band that was set up to the side of the dais. Everyone stood and backed to the edges of the marquee while the chairs arranged themselves along the edge of the dance floor around small tables that appeared in the dinner tables’ absence. Bill and Fleur approached the center of the wooden tiles as the band struck up a beautiful, hauntingly slow song. Ginny slipped her hand into Harry’s and pulled herself against his side, smiling up at him in a way that made his insides squirm and his toes curl in his shoes. “Are you planning to stand here all evening or are we going to dance?” she challenged as she turned her head to view the other couples now entering the dance floor.

“You sure you want to dance with me, Gin? I’m not very good.” He managed to keep the panic he felt at the prospect of dancing out of his voice, but just barely, and Ginny raised her eyebrows at his discomfort.

“Who else would I want to dance with, you great prat?” she answered. “I plan to spend the whole night with your arms wrapped around me.”

Harry liked the sound of that, so he screwed up his courage, led her by the hand to the outside edge of the dance floor, and took her into his arms. He had a vague memory of what to do from the Yule Ball, but Ginny began murmuring steps in his ear so he gave up and followed her better-informed lead. Managing to not step on her toes, he was getting rather proud of himself as the song wound to a close. He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned his head to find Mr. Weasley standing behind him. “May I cut in?” Harry nodded and gave Ginny a quick kiss before turning her over to her father.

He made his way over toward the table where Ron and Hermione were sitting but paused when he heard what they were discussing.

“I was not flirting with him, Ronald, I just said hello!” Hermione’s tone was low and warning and Harry hoped that Ron was picking up on this before he made things worse.

“But he was looking at you!” Ron threw back, gesturing at the length of Hermione’s body with both hands.

“Oh, honestly, Ron, he was not!” she returned, turning her head away from him as she spoke.

Definitely don’t want to get involved in that, Harry thought as he turned away and made his way to the table holding drinks and snacks for the dancers. The object of Ron and Hermione’s argument appeared beside him as he picked up a bottle of butterbeer. “It is good to see you again,” Krum said as he stuck out his hand for Harry to shake.

Harry returned the shake and the sentiment. “So are you just here for Fleur’s wedding or will you be spending some time in England?” Harry ventured in an attempt to make small talk.

Krum chuckled, a deep rolling sound that made Harry realize that it was the first time he’d ever heard Krum laugh. “Then your Professor McGonagall has not made the announcement?”

“Er, announcement of what?” Harry took a long swallow of his butterbeer and caught a glance of Ginny, now dancing with Charlie.

Krum took a glass of Firewhisky and downed it in one swallow. “I haff been asked to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts by your headmistress. I do hope that you don’t mind.”

Harry was momentarily stunned. “You? Why?”

Krum laughed again at Harry’s reaction. “She asked me ven I informed the Order of the Phoenix that I vas at their disposal. With all that Herm-own-ninny has written me about the troubles here, vat happened at the tournament, and the death of Karkaroff, vat choice did I have? I could haff stayed hidden in Bulgaria but it would not be right.”

Harry was impressed with Krum’s decision to involve himself in the war by choice when he easily could have gone home and waited for its conclusion. “Thanks for coming, Viktor. We need all the help we can get, and it’s good to have you on our side.”

Krum smiled. “Now that ve haff the business out of the way, I can ask abut more pleasant things. Who vas that pretty young lady I saw you with on the dance floor?”

Grinning, Harry gestured with his bottle towards Ginny where she was now dancing with Bill. “That’s Ginny. She’s Bill’s sister, and I’m in love with her.” He felt as if his grin might split his face.

“I am glad to see it. It is good to know that your life is better than it vas last time we met.” Krum looked contemplative and Harry couldn’t help but think of Cedric. Would Cedric have come to the wedding, invited as a fellow champion? Would he be dancing with Cho right now, or standing alongside him and Krum exchanging pleasantries? Harry felt his thoughts beginning to stray down the path towards Sirius and Dumbledore and everyone else he had lost, and purposefully turned his attention back to the party.

A tall blonde woman approached and Krum held out his hand to her. “Ekaterina, this is Harry Potter.” He turned to Harry. “May I present to you my - vat is the vord? Ah, fiancée — Ekaterina Tirok.”

Harry took her proffered free hand and shook it gently. “Pleased to meet you.” She murmured assent and stood close to Krum’s side as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

He blurted out the first thought that came to mind. “Have you met Hermione and Ron yet?” Perhaps the knowledge that Krum was engaged would diffuse Ron’s temper a bit.

She twittered a bit, which Harry found annoying. “No, Viktor has not introduced me to his friend yet.”

Glad to have something to do, he gestured in the direction of his friends. “Why don’t we go over and say hello then? I’m sure Ron would love to meet you.” They followed him over to Ron and Hermione’s table, and Harry was glad to see that they had stopped their bickering. “Erm, Ron, Hermione? Viktor wanted to say hello and introduce you to someone.”

After the introductions, during which Ron relaxed considerably, Ginny appeared at Harry’s side. “I thought you were only going to dance with me?” he teased in her ear.

“Jealous of my father and brothers?” she shot back. “I didn’t see you running back to my side when I was done with Dad.” Her forehead was now touching his and her fingers were tickling the back of his neck.

“How about I make up for it now? I’m terrible at small talk.” He took her hand and led her back to the dance floor. It was another slow number, for which he was thankful. He’d figured out during the previous dance that all he really needed to do was hold her close and shift back and forth from one foot to the other in time to the music, and this he thought he could handle. Ginny nestled her head under his chin and rested it against his chest and Harry couldn’t remember ever feeling more content. He closed his eyes and let the music wash over him, inhaling Ginny’s flowery scent as they swayed together through song after song. At one point, he opened his eyes and was surprised to see Krum dancing with Hermione and Ekaterina with Ron. Crisis averted, he sighed to himself and went back to focusing all his attention on the girl in his arms.

Several songs later, Charlie clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention for cutting the cake. The clapping sounds didn’t stop when Charlie’s hands stilled, though, and Harry immediately came to alert. He looked at Ginny and saw that she had pulled her wand out of her dress. A glance at Ron and Hermione showed that they, along with Krum and his fiancée, had also taken a defensive stance and were scanning the crowd for problems. At the edge of the field he saw bright lights erupt along what he assumed were the ward lines and he yelled for everyone to move away.

People began scrambling everywhere, climbing over tables and each other to get away from the disruption. Harry saw Tonks grab Lupin’s hand and head toward the line of defense at the edge of the property and he pulled Ginny along with him to follow them. He quickly kissed her forehead and looked into her eyes. “I’m not going to ask you to stay safe, because I know you won’t. But please be careful. I can’t lose you.”

She threw her arms around him and kissed him fiercely. “You too.”

They turned as one to face the oncoming threat, wands raised and ready for whatever came their way. They didn’t have to wait long, as the wards popped and crackled before falling around them, allowing thirty or so masked and robed figures to cross onto The Burrow’s land. Curses began flying at once, and Harry was lost in the moment, alternately throwing up his shield, dodging out of the way, and firing back. A quick survey of the defenders showed that the Death Eaters were outnumbered by at least two to one, and Harry remained hopeful as the invaders started falling one by one. He kept Ginny in sight through the crowds of battling figures and was almost distracted from his own fights several times by the sight of her red hair whipping about her face, her golden robes shimmering in the moonlight as she fought like a warrior princess.

He absently wondered whether Snape and Malfoy were among the attackers. Turning on the spot towards yet another faceless enemy, he blocked a stunning spell with a hastily-cast Protego. After the hex dissipated on his shield, he shot back an Expelliarmus as quickly as he could and was rewarded with the satisfying thump of his opponent hitting the ground as the Death Eater’s wand flew to his hand. He followed up with Incarcerous, binding the fallen foe in sturdy ropes for the Aurors to handle later. He took a moment to confirm that Krum, Ekaterina, Ron, and Hermione were each dispatching his or her own opponents handily and breathed a sigh of relief that his friends were holding their own.

Ministry Aurors began appearing about ten minutes into the fight, making the outcome inevitable. It was slow work, but after five more intense minutes the sounds of Apparition from the Death Eaters who had not yet fallen began echoing across the battlefield. When the din diminished, Harry stayed on his feet long enough to find Ginny; he stumbled over to her, wrapping her in his arms, and they fell to the grass in an exhausted embrace.

Tonks was wandering the grounds, and when she reached Harry she reported that the defenders had incurred only a few minor injuries. Twelve Death Eaters had been captured, although she didn’t know their identities yet. He managed to convince her that he had nothing but minor cuts and bruises. Then Mrs. Weasley came bustling over and fussed over them for a few minutes before she, too, was satisfied that they were all right. She had tear streaks down her face but seemed to be calm now. “We’re all gathering back in the kitchen, dears, when you feel up to walking. The rest of the guests are leaving as soon as the Aurors take their statements.” She left them with a hasty kiss on each of their cheeks.

“You really know how to show a girl a good time,” Ginny muttered after her mother left. Harry laughed, and it sounded so free and easy that he was shocked to hear it come out his own mouth. Others nearby looked at him quizzically, but he didn’t care, at that particular moment, what anyone thought of him.

He and Ginny relaxed against the tree for another fifteen minutes, enjoying the relative calm and each other’s closeness. Ginny turned to Harry and he was shocked to see an angry look on her face. “I can’t believe they ruined Bill’s wedding,” she said in a cold, calm voice. “It was supposed to be a wonderful, perfect day, and they ruined it.”

Harry nodded. “Just one more thing Voldemort has to answer for. At least no one was killed today.”

She stood and extended her hand for him, and he rose to join her. “Let’s go inside and see if everyone’s okay.”

They spent some time in the kitchen with the rest of the family, comparing notes on the battle and trying to comfort Bill and Fleur over their destroyed celebration. The newlyweds waved off the family’s hovering and took it all in stride, asserting that the important part of the day had already been completed and they were happy to be married regardless of the circumstances. This brought on a fresh wave of tears from Mrs. Weasley, who hugged everyone in the room at least three times before shooing Bill and Fleur off to their honeymoon and the rest of them off to bed.

When they reached the landing between their rooms, Harry kissed Ginny goodnight and turned into his own room. He’d just stripped to his boxers and lay down in bed when his door opened, and a nightdress-clad Ginny slipped in and closed the door silently behind her.

Harry took in the sight of her in the candlelight. Her long hair was loose now, brushed into waves over her shoulders. The nightdress she’d chosen was light blue, hanging to just above her knees, and he could make out her silhouette beneath the thin fabric.

“Let me stay with you tonight, Harry?” she whispered.

Harry’s insides reacted in several ways at once. There was a flash of surprise, combined with a thrill at the thought of what spending the night with her could mean, and fear at what eight Weasleys would have to say about it. He fought not to stumble over his words or make her angry. “Gin, I’d love to, really I would, more than just about anything I can think of right now honestly, but don’t you think your parents would, well, kill us?”

Her clear brown eyes pierced his. “After tonight I just don’t want to be alone. Please let me stay with you, and I’ll deal with my parents.”

Harry’s resolve melted and he opened his arms to her. “If that’s what you want, Gin, then of course.”

She lay down beside him and curled against his side, resting her head on his chest. “I don’t really want to do anything, Harry, I just wanted to be with you tonight. Is that okay?”

He squeezed her gently and kissed the top of her head. “That’s fine, Gin.”

“You’re not disappointed?”

“Never disappointed, Gin. Not with you.”

A/N: As I said earlier, I owe a debt of gratitude to Ken for his work on this chapter. The conversation about how to contact Snape and what message should be used it almost directly taken from an AIM conversation between me and Ken; the Pensieve scenes were improved immeasurably by his keen grasp of both Snape and Dumbledore's manners and motives.
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