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SIYE Time:12:40 on 29th March 2024
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all your fumble words
By lazyweekendmornings

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Category: Post-DH/AB
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 90
Summary: The war is over, and grief hangs heavy over victory.



Slowly, Ginny and Harry must learn to pick themselves up and live again.
Hitcount: Story Total: 30533; Chapter Total: 3565
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
couldn't get this story out of my mind, so here's another chapter! i said this already, but i would really, really appreciate feedback in any form. i'm very insecure about writing hp fic! let me know if you like it, or if there's something you'd like me to add in the next chapter!




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“You should go see Teddy,” Ginny said. She was leaning against him, with her head pillowed on his shoulder, and finishing off the last of the breakfast he’d brought her.

It was hard to think straight or to focus on anything, after how she’d kissed him, but that managed to get Harry’s attention. He sat up a bit straighter and looked at her. They were sitting down under the tree, sheltered from the sun and from the sight of anyone in the Burrow who might look out of their windows. They’d been sitting in silence, and Harry had been content to feel the warm weight of Ginny against him as she ate. He still couldn’t believe it. He hadn’t let himself hope, over the past year, hadn’t let himself think about a future beyond Voldemort.

It didn’t feel fair that he survived and so many others didn’t. No matter how many times Ron and Hermione tell him not to, he couldn’t help feeling guilty over their deaths. He had honestly thought he wouldn’t make it this far. It was bittersweet, because he felt luckier than he can articulate, to have Ginny next to him, but everything, even this, was a reminder of what he had lost, what all of them had.

He looked down at her now. Her eyes were closed, and the sun was glinting off her hair. “Yeah?” he said. He hadn’t been expecting her to say something like that.

“Yeah,” she said. She sat up, turned to face him. “You should. Have you, since the war?”

“Come to think of it,” Harry said slowly, “I haven’t seen him at all. Not since… the funeral.” He hadn’t been paying much attention during Remus and Tonks’ funeral, thoughts too preoccupied by grief and guilt and sorrow, but he did remember Andromeda sitting in the front row, back ramrod-straight and holding a baby with turquoise hair in her arms. After the funeral had finished, he’d gone up to her to try and say something, but then Teddy had started crying and she had excused herself to go back home, mumbling something about putting him down for a nap.

Teddy. His godson. The last link he had to Lupin and, by extension, his parents.

“You should,” Ginny said. “Or write to Mrs Tonks, at any rate. She’s all alone with him, and… well, you’ve seen how Mum is. It’s probably much worse for Andromeda. She’s lost her husband and… she only had one daughter.” Ginny’s voice didn’t break, not exactly, but it cracked. She had been close to Tonks, Harry knew.

Harry didn’t know what to say. He suddenly felt guilty. Teddy was his godson, and apart from Andromeda, he’s all the family Teddy had now. He didn’t know why he hasn’t reached out to Andromeda, why he hadn’t attempted to so much as speak to her. He remembered how nice it had been when Sirius wrote to him, when he felt a little less alone then. It occurred to him then that Teddy, like him, was an orphan. Voldemort, this war, it had taken so much from him, from all of them, and now another young boy had to grow up without knowing his parents. Didn’t he owe it to Teddy, to himself, to make sure Teddy was surrounded by whatever family he has? Why hadn’t he done anything about it yet?

Some of his guilt must have been visible on his face, because Ginny reached out squeezed his hand gently. “You’ve been busy,” she said. “It’s okay. It’s barely been a couple of weeks. But you should do it now.”

Harry didn’t know how she knew exactly what was going through his mind. It was uncanny how she did that. “Will you come with me?” he finally said, once the lump in his throat had gone down and he could speak clearly.

“Yeah, of course, if you want me to,” Ginny said easily.

Harry nodded. “I’ll write to her,” he promised.

*

He did.

That evening, Ron and Hermione were playing chess in the living room, and Ginny was outside again. She spent more time in the orchard than at home these days; Harry couldn’t really blame her.

He was watching their game absentmindedly when he remembered his conversation with Ginny. He waved his wand, catching the parchment and Self-Inking Quill that came zooming towards him.

“Knight to E5,” Ron said ten minutes later, and turned to look at Harry, who was now sitting on the floor with the letter propped up on the table in front of him. “Who are you writing to?” he asked Harry curiously.

“Mrs Tonks,” Harry answered. He felt self-conscious enough as it was, and it only grew worse when he felt both Ron and Hermione’s gazes on him. All he had written in the last ten minutes is Dear Mrs Tonks, and he had no idea what to write next.

“Oh, that’s right, you–” Hermione cut herself off with a small sigh when she noticed that Ron’s knight had just gotten rid of her bishop. “–you should do that, that’s a good idea,” she continued, and nudged one of her pawns forward.

“You should tell her to come over for dinner or something,” Ron put in. “Mum would probably like the company. I mean, if she feels better by then.”

“I don’t know if Mrs Tonks will be up to it,” Hermione said. “I mean, she’s been through a lot, hasn’t she? First Ted, and now her daughter…”

“We’ve all been through a lot, I reckon,” Ron said.

“Yes, but Mrs Tonks doesn’t have any family except for Teddy anymore, does she? I imagine that’s hard. I mean, to lose one family member’s hard enough…” Hermione cut herself off rather abruptly, and Harry wondered why, but then he looked at the way Ron’s face had gone pale and he understood. “Oh, Ron, I’m sorry,” she whispered, looking alarmingly close to tears. “I didn’t mean…”

“No, I know,” Ron said, but his face had fallen. Harry knew that he was thinking about what all of them were thinking about. The loss of Fred hung heavy in the house all the time, but it was moments like these when Harry felt it the most keenly. Ron took a deep breath and seemed to compose himself before he looked back at Harry. “Tell her we’re all here for her. Not like we’re doing much right now, anyway.” He gave Hermione an oddly furtive look before moving his rook forward.

It was twenty minutes later when Harry finally finished his letter. “Can I borrow Pigwidgeon?” He asked Ron. When Ron nodded distractedly, he stands up. Before he could go find the owl, he was distracted by Ginny walking in, wet from the rain.

“Checkmate,” Ron said, and then, “oh, hi, Ginny. You’re wet.”

“I noticed, thank you,” said says.

“Here,” Hermione said. She took her wand and waved it in Ginny’s direction.

“Cheers, Hermione,” said a newly dry Ginny. She walked to Harry and gave him a smile, one he couldn’t help but return. “Did you finally write it, then?” she said.

“I did, yeah,” Harry said.

“Good,” Ginny said. “If you hadn’t by tomorrow, I would’ve probably just done it for you and forged your signature.”

Harry laughed. Somehow, he didn’t doubt that.

“I’m going to go shower,” Ginny said. She goes on her tiptoes and kissed Harry, lingering just a moment too long for it to be strictly decent, and then made her way upstairs.

Harry, as was always the case when Ginny kissed him, needed a moment to compose himself. When he looked back at Ron and Hermione, he was surprised to see the way Ron’s ears had gone red, and then he remembered that Ron didn’t know anything that transpired with him and Ginny this morning.

“What was that?” he asked.

Harry made a quick decision to downplay it as much as is possible. “What was what?”

It seemed to make things worse. “I don’t want you messing around with her,” Ron said.

“I’m not,” Harry said. “We’re not messing around.”

“What is this, then? This isn’t the time to try anything with her, you don’t know how upset she’s been after Fred–”

Harry couldn’t take any more of this. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice was calm, but even he could hear the edge to it. “You two, you’re both the ones who don’t know anything.”

Ron’s chest seemed to be swelling in anger. “What are you talking about?” He demanded.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you both sneaking around,” Harry snapped. “Planning who knows what, like you’ve been paying any attention to Ginny–”

“Harry, we’re not planning–” Hermione tried to interject.

“Don’t lie,” Harry said, before she could say anything. “Just because I haven’t said anything doesn’t mean I didn’t notice, alright? We’ve all been upset after everything, after–after Fred and everyone —but Ginny and I talked and–”

“I don’t want you messing her up!” Ron said. The mention of Fred seemed to have angered him further.

“I’m not!” Harry said, just as loudly as Ron.

They both looked at each other for a moment, and then Ron stood up and stormed upstairs. Even from down here, Harry could hear the door slam.

“Harry,” Hermione whispered, but Harry didn’t want to hear any of it, didn’t want to see the tears in her eyes or be made to feel guilty over his and Ron’s argument.

“I’m going to bed,” he announced, even though none of them had eaten dinner, and made his way back up to Bill and Charlie’s room, where he had been sleeping for the last two weeks.

*

They didn’t talk about it the next morning.

Mrs Weasley was downstairs when Harry came down, for the first time since Fred’s funeral. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she looked pale, but she gave him a tired smile when he came in and pulled him in for a hug.

Everyone seemed happy to see Mrs Weasley in the kitchen, but there was a palpable tension in the air once they had settled down at the breakfast table. Harry, sandwiched in between Hermione and Ginny, made eye contact with Ron every so often, but neither of them said anything about their argument.

It was only halfway through the meal, when Mr Weasley left to go meet Kingsley in the Ministry and Mrs Weasley excused herself to go back to her room, that they were forced to talk about it, and only because they had no other choice.

“So, are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Ginny said.

“What do you mean?” mumbled Ron.

“You and Harry. You’ve been glaring at each other and sulking through breakfast,” Ginny said impatiently. Harry was happy that she was starting to recover herself, but he forgot just how keenly Ginny could get to the heart of the matter without attempting to tread on any sort of eggshells.

Hermione surprised him by giggling. “They have been sulking, haven’t they?”

“Yeah, it’s like an old married couple. Maybe you both should try kissing each other goodnight, maybe that will help,” Ginny said.

“Nah, he’s not my type,” Ron said. He met Harry’s eye, and they both suddenly smiled, though it faded quickly.

“There, the tension’s broken, anyway. Now will you tell us what the matter is?” Ginny demanded.

Neither of them said anything. Finally, Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ron’s upset that you and Harry seem to have, er. Sorted out your differences,” she told Ginny.

“Oh,” said Ginny, and then, “I should have guessed.”

“I don’t want him taking advantage of you,” Ron said.

Harry wanted to laugh at the idea of anyone taking advantage of Ginny. He had no doubt that she would fight them off; he felt a burst of pride in his chest just thinking about it.

Ginny seemed to agree with him, if the scoff she let out was any indication.

“Ron,” Hermione said softly, “I really think we should give them a chance to explain–”

“Explain?” Ginny said. “I wasn’t aware we were doing anything wrong. We broke up because of Voldemort. He’s gone now, isn’t he? So I don’t see what the issue is.”

“The issue,” Ron said, “is that you’re not in any right mind to start — whatever it is that this is–because with Fred, it’s too soon–”

“Shut up,” Ginny said. Her eyes had lost their amused look, and her voice was icy. “Shut up, Ron, do you really think I’m not in my right mind?”

“No, I just meant–” Ron seemed to realise that he had hit a nerve.

“Besides, what about you and Hermione?” Ginny semanded. “I suppose you’re in the right mind to decide to go snogging her now, or doing even more, if the way she sneaks out of my bedroom in the night is any indication, and I can’t decide to date Harry?”

Harry winced at the visual of Hermione and Ron snogging.

“You’re being a hypocrite,” Ginny continued, “and I’m sick of you, and Mum, and everyone, assuming I’m too young to know what I want! I’m turning seventeen in a few months, I’ll be of age, and I’ve loved Harry for ages now–” she cut herself off suddenly, her cheeks flaming red.

Harry felt like there was a buzzing in his ears, like he’d been hit with a hundred Muffliatos. He looked at Ginny, dumbfounded. Even Ron seemed too shocked to say anything. Hermione let out a sound that seems to be a combination of a gasp and a muffled sob.

“Well,” said someone, sounding close to laughter, “at least I didn’t miss my baby sister declaring her love for the Chosen One.”

The four of them turned around to the source of the sound. There, brushing soot off his robes and looking like he hadn’t slept in days, having just stepped out of the fireplace and entered the Burrow for the first time since the funeral of Fred, stood George Weasley, surveying them with an amused smile.

Ginny stood up and ran to George, throwing her arms around him and hugging him tightly.

“Hey, sis,” George said, “you’re really giving Mum a run for her money with the screaming there.” He looked over the top of Ginny’s head at Ron. Ron went to join the hug, all animosity seemingly forgotten.

“What are you doing here?” Ginny said, sounding happier than she has in a while.

George hesitated. Ron and Ginny stepped back from the hug, but Ginny stood close to his side.

“It’s Fred,” George finally said. “Kingsley and Dad are coming here with Bill and Fleur now, they’ll be here within the hour. Kingsley’s finished handling the legal aspects. It’s time to read the will.”

 

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