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SIYE Time:12:12 on 28th March 2024
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Path Diverged II
By hp_fangal

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP
Characters:Albus Dumbledore, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Nymphadora Tonks, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley, Sirius Black
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance
Warnings: Disturbing Imagery, Mental Abuse, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 220
Summary: The Wizarding world finally knows that Lord Voldemort has returned, and the Second War has begun. As Harry prepares to enter his sixth year at Hogwarts, he is forced to deal with the trauma from his last encounter with Voldemort, the upcoming trial of Dolores Umbridge, Sirius's uncomfortable questions about his childhood, his budding relationship with Ginny Weasley, and the unknown shadow of what lies ahead as the "Chosen One" who must defeat Voldemort once and for all. This is an AU take of Half-Blood Prince following my previous story, Path Diverged.
Hitcount: Story Total: 92307; Chapter Total: 3517
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
I have been working hard on 6 different IEPs for my students (Individualized Education Program) that were all due within the space of about a week, which included scheduling meetings, contacting related service providers (speech, occupational therapy, physical therapy, adaptive physical education, orientation and mobility, the list just keeps going for my particular subset of students). That took so much time on top of my homework that writing had to be set aside for a little while. Thankfully, I've only got 3 more IEPs this month, 2-3 meetings next month, 2 meetings in January, and then nothing until March. So I'm hoping to get back into a bit more of a regular writing routine with this week finally out of the way. It's easier to balance writing with just my regular lesson planning and my homework for college.

Anyway, this chapter has taken some time to develop (some dialogue taken from HBP, chapter 5 "An Excess of Phlegm"). I had a difficult time keeping the events completely chronological because of the way certain ideas flowed into important scenes, but everything in this chapter takes place from the day Hermione arrives at the Burrow to the day before Harry's birthday. It all also kind of builds on itself, as well, adding in important elements that lead to the final scene, which is definitely one of my favorite things I've written thus far. This is a very happy, almost sappy chapter, if you will, but after everything else Harry has been through, I thought he was more than deserving of some time to be happy and safe. Enjoy!




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Chapter Fifteen: Summer at the Burrow



Harry's life quickly fell into a new pattern now that he was no longer stuck at Privet Drive. He and Sirius would eat breakfast at Grimmauld Place, and then they'd spend the rest of the day at the Burrow, Harry frequently playing two-a-side Quidditch with his friends (he and Hermione against Ron and Ginny; Hermione was dreadful and Ginny excellent, so they were reasonably well matched), or sneaking off with Ginny for time away from everyone else.

The evenings spent at Grimmauld Place consisted of games with Sirius and Tonks (and occasionally Remus), talking quietly by the fire, or Sirius breaking out his collection of records to begin Harry’s musical education. It was through these evenings that Harry learned his mother loved the Beatles and would sing songs like “All You Need Is Love” or “Hey Jude” to Harry when she rocked him to sleep. His father had been more partial to Led Zepplin and Bon Jovi, but liked to bellow along to most any song when he’d had too much to drink, whether he knew the words or not.

It was both wondrous and painful to learn these kinds of things about his parents. More than once, Harry wished there had never such a thing as the prophecy, let alone Voldemort himself. So many lives had been cut short or damaged as a result of Voldemort’s machinations.

“You think you’ve got your whole life in front of you, so much time to make choices and explore the kind of life you really want,” said Sirius quietly when Harry confided his frustration and sadness to him. “The truth is that none of us really knows how long we’ve actually got before it all comes to an end. It either makes us more careful, or more reckless. Your dad and I were very reckless until he found something that made him want to be more careful.”

“What was that?” Harry asked him.

Sirius smiled. “You. The moment Lily told him she was pregnant with you, he chose caution for the sake of Lily and for the chance to be your dad. He and Lily had already taken great risks for the Order – that whole ‘thrice defied’ Voldemort part of the prophecy – but the idea of becoming a dad was more important than the risks he’d taken for the Order before then.” He grinned. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he was committed to being more careful.”

“And a good thing, too,” said Remus as he entered the kitchen, Kreacher immediately scurrying over with a hot meal as Tonks followed him in. Remus looked as though he needed it. Harry knew his old professor was doing undercover work for the Order with the werewolves, so it was always a blessing whenever he could be there. “Sirius got in a tussle with some Death Eaters a week later and spent a week at St. Mungo’s to recover.”

Tonks dropped down next to Remus and kissed his cheek. “James probably could have prevented that from happening,” she said.

Remus shook his head. “They were looking specifically for James.”

“Why?” asked Harry.

“He had helped with the capture of Dolohov, and the Death Eaters were angry about it,” said Sirius. “I almost got taken out by Rosier in the struggle, but then the Aurors finally showed up and he was killed when he tried to fight he way out of the situation.”

Harry remembered both of these names. When he had accidentally accessed Dumbledore’s Pensieve his fourth year, the ex-Death Eater Karkaroff had mentioned both names in an attempt to free himself from Azkaban.

Remus sighed. “James did feel remorse for not having been with you, but Lily and I talked sense into him.” He smiled at Sirius. “You were a bit more careful after that, though.”

“It was in St. Mungo’s when he and Lily asked me to be godfather,” admitted Sirius. “Lily begged me to be more careful because they both wanted me to be able to be there for you.” He looked at Harry now. “That was the day I realized you were our future.”

Harry briefly thought of the picture of the Order Mad-Eye Moody had shown him the previous summer. So many lives lost, but those who still remained and the next generation had stepped up, the fighting spirit of those passed on continued in their actions and determination to win the fight once and for all.



Harry, Ron, and Hermione received their O.W.L. results two days after Hermione arrived at the Burrow, and Harry was pleased to find that he had passed every subject he needed to continue to pursue his ambition of becoming an Auror, including an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts and Exceeds Expectations in Potions ("Take that, Snape," he muttered to himself).

"Your dad and I both considered being Aurors, but then we chose to focus on our roles in the Order, instead," Sirius told Harry when he told him about his plans. "I think you'd be brilliant at it!”

Ron had managed scores that would enable him to be an Auror, as well. “Good thing, too,” remarked Ginny. “Ron needs someone to keep him in line,” she added before dodging the slice of toast her brother threw her way.

Harry had seen Ron and Ginny interact plenty over the years, but the teasing jibes Ginny easily slung at Ron were more apparent than ever now.

“C’mon Ron!” shouted Ginny from one side of the orchard as Ron failed to stop Harry from scoring for the third time in a row. “Where’s the guy who helped us win the Quidditch cup?”

“Shut it, Ginny,” scowled Ron. “You realize how slow we all are compared to Harry’s Firebolt.”

“I’m sure it takes more than a fast broom to make a good player,” said Hermione, wobbling dangerously as she attempted to catch the ball Harry tossed over to her.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” demanded Ron, ears going bright red.

“I wouldn’t do any better on Harry’s broom, now would I?” said Hermione crossly, landing on the grass to retrieve the dropped ball. “Why you lot keep making me play when I’m so horrible at this…”

“Consider it payback for all the lectures you’ve given us about our study habits,” said Harry, grinning. Ron’s face cleared at once and he started to laugh as Hermione glared up at Harry.

“Really, though,” said Ron. “None of us ‘cept Ginny’s got summer homework, anyway, so it’s best spent doing things that are fun!”

“We clearly have different definitions of the word ‘fun’,” Harry heard Hermione mutter as she mounted her broom once more to resume the game. He stifled a grin and zoomed off, pleased that Hermione kept trying no matter how much she complained about her lack of Quidditch talent. It made the days much more fun and relaxed. Better still, Harry never had flashbacks when he was in the air; flying and playing the game with his friends really seemed to get him out of his head and away from the trauma lurking within.

“Get your head out of the clouds, Harry!” Ron suddenly shouted, and Harry blinked and took off across the orchard, ready to engage in the game once more.



When Sirius caught Harry and Ginny the third time they had snuck away from everyone else, it was with Harry's hands starting to drift up under the back of Ginny's shirt, which prompted a rather embarrassing conversation that evening after they returned to Grimmauld Place.

“Now then,” said Sirius, rubbing his hands together after they settled down in the drawing room, “I think it’s time for the Talk.”

Harry remembered Sirius saying this was going to happen, but he was still no better prepared for it now than he had been that night. “Do we have to?” he tried, already knowing the answer.

“It’s necessary,” Sirius told him firmly. “You need to know about intimacy, safe sex, and the finer points of pleasure.”

Harry’s face felt very hot, and stayed that way for some time after.

Sirius was surprisingly unabashed about sharing what he knew, and quite thorough at that. Harry finally interrupted during the how-to’s of ensuring female pleasure. “D’you think my dad would’ve talked about any of this the way you are?”

Sirius laughed. “Everything I’m telling you I learned from Fleamont Potter himself, actually, so yes, most definitely.” At Harry’s confused expression, he added, “Your grandfather. Now pay attention, this is very important knowledge I’m imparting to you!”

“Fleamont?” said Harry skeptically. “You’re taking the mickey.”

“No, that was his name,” answered Sirius. “He also invented Sleekeazy’s Hair Potion. That’s where the current Potter wealth you inherited comes from.”

Harry stared.

“Anyway,” said Sirius, “you’re distracting me. Pay attention!”

And on it went. Even though Harry was interested in everything Sirius was telling him, it was still quite mortifying to have to sit through. He wasn’t sure how he’d be able to look Ginny in the face again after this.

"Now, I didn't tell Molly that I caught the two of you today," Sirius informed Harry as he finally wound down, "but that was a one-time deal. Be more discrete in the future, all right?"

Harry flushed and nodded. Trust Sirius to insist on knowledge and discretion rather than forbidding Harry and Ginny from seeking solitude together.

When Harry went to the Burrow the next morning, one look at Ginny had his face positively burning and he kept his eyes firmly affixed to the floor.

"Is everything all right, dear?" asked Mrs. Weasley, concerned. Sirius grinned.

"We just had a talk last night about the birds and the bees," he explained cheerily, and Harry thought that facing one of Hagrid’s Blast-Ended Skrewts would be preferable to the knowing look from Mrs. Weasley and the amused grin he spotted on Ginny's face.

"Don't worry, Harry," she told him brightly, "I went through that back at Christmas when Mum found out I was dating Michael Corner."

"I bet Sirius was more thorough," Harry mumbled to her, and she blushed despite her continued grin.

"Well, I suppose we’ll have to compare notes, then," she replied cheekily. Sirius burst out laughing as Mrs. Weasley tutted, but Ginny just grinned more widely, seized Harry’s hand, and pulled him outside while yelling for Ron and Hermione to hurry up and join them in the orchard.

There was a word, Harry knew, for what he felt in that moment as Ginny looked at him over her shoulder, fiery hair dancing in the sunlight and her brown eyes brighter than ever. For the moment, he set it aside, thinking only of the full day of laughter and friendship awaiting him.



The day after Hermione came to stay at the Burrow, Bill showed up at dinner with Fleur Delacour. “’Arry, eet ‘as been too long!” she cried the moment she spotted Harry. Without warning, she swooped down on him and kissed both cheeks in greeting, leaving his cheeks feeling as though they were burning, Ron with an amused grin, Hermione rolling her eyes in exasperation, and Ginny silently fuming.

“Hey,” he finally managed. “It’s er, good to see you.” Then he spotted a ring on her left hand. “Hang on, are you –?”

“Eet eez because of you that Bill and I met last year,” said Fleur, beaming at Harry. “’E ‘elped me wiz my job at Gringotts, and we ‘ave spent so much time togezzer, and well –” She grasped Bill’s hand firmly. “Just over two weeks ago, ‘e proposed!”

“We’re getting married next summer,” said Bill, grinning at Harry. “Grand outdoor thing, in the back garden.”

“Wow, congratulations!” said Harry, and Fleur broke into a radiant smile and swooped down on him again. When he finally broke away from her, Ginny was scowling in the corner, though she looked slightly mollified when she realized that Harry was completely embarrassed by Fleur’s display.

“She’s awful,” she muttered when Harry approached her. “Obviously she’s going to be nice to you, though.”

Having both been Champions in the Triwizard Tournament, Harry did get along with Fleur well enough, but Mrs. Weasley was quite stiff around her. It wasn’t hard to see why she was struggling, though, because Fleur always seemed the haughty young lady Harry had first met his fourth year in her presence. He couldn’t figure it out.

“What do you even do around ‘ere every day?” Fleur asked loudly at dinner the fourth night Harry was there for dinner. “Zere’s only cooking and chickens as far as I can see.”

The fact that Bill just happened to be outside talking with Mr. Weasley and Sirius about Order business didn’t slip past Harry’s notice.

“We play two-a-side Quidditch in the orchard,” said Ron quickly.

“Reading,” piped up Hermione.

“Snogging,” was Ginny’s unabashed reply, which made Harry’s face warm as Mrs. Weasley began to scold her only daughter. Ginny listened to the whole lecture, face completely unrepentant.

It was true, though. They did snog a lot.

Harry finally asked Ginny the next morning what was going on with the animosity between Fleur and Mrs. Weasley. “Mum hates her,” said Ginny firmly.

“I do not hate her!” came Mrs. Weasley’s voice from the kitchen. She marched into the living room, hands on her hips as she shot an exasperated look at her daughter. “I just think they’ve hurried into this engagement, that’s all!”

“Yeah, I might have picked up on that when Bill told us the news,” said Ginny, raising her eyebrows. “‘But you’ve barely known each other a year,’ you said.”

“Which is not very long,” replied Mrs. Weasley tersely. “I know why it’s happened, of course. It’s all this uncertainty with You-Know-Who coming back, people think they might be dead tomorrow, so they’re rushing all sorts of decisions they’d normally take time over. It was the same last time he was powerful, people eloping left, right, and center –”

“Including you and Dad,” said Ginny slyly.

“Yes, well, your father and I were made for each other, what was the point in waiting?” said Mrs. Weasley dismissively. “Whereas Bill and Fleur… well… what have they really got in common? He’s a hardworking, down-to-earth sort of person, whereas she’s –”

“A cow,” said Ginny, nodding. “But Bill’s not that down-to-earth. He’s a Curse-Breaker, isn’t he, he likes a bit of adventure, a bit of glamour… I expect that’s why he’s gone for Phlegm.”

“Stop calling her that, Ginny,” said Mrs. Weasley sharply as Harry laughed. “Well, I’d better get back to the dishes… mind yourselves today, please.” Looking a bit careworn, she returned to the kitchen.

“She wasn’t that bad that first night Bill brought her,” sighed Ginny after a moment, “but I suppose she was trying to put on a good front to hide her true nature.”

“So… you think they’re making a mistake,” said Harry slowly.

“Every time she’s come over since Bill announced the engagement, she just focuses on him and ignores everyone else,” said Ginny with a scowl. “Well, everyone except you these days, anyway. Bill was even talking about having her come and stay for a few days to get to know everyone better, but Mum actually refused and said Fleur needs to join the Order first before she gets to stay here for security reasons.”

That was surprising. Mrs. Weasley, turn away a potential guest?

“Wow,” Harry managed after a moment. “That’s…”

“Phlegm’s really only nice to you, anyway,” continued Ginny.

“Well, I mean, she and I –”

“– were Champions, I remember,” said Ginny, “and then there’s Ron…”

Ron’s behavior around Fleur was confusing. He seemed determined to be polite at all times, but sometimes he’d open his mouth and some ridiculous, breathy compliment would come tumbling out. Or else he’d stick his elbow in the butter dish in a bizarre mirroring of Ginny’s behavior towards Harry four summers ago. He always had this look on his face after like he realized he’d been acting like a complete twat, and then he’d go strangely silent. After a week of this, Harry finally cornered him to try and figure it out.

“I don’t like Fleur,” said Ron stubbornly. “I – I struggle with that Veela thing she’s got going on, that’s all.”

“Right,” said Harry, unconvinced. “She’s here almost every night, though, so surely you’d be more used to –”

“I fancy Hermione.”

Ron’s face was redder than a tomato, and he wouldn’t meet Harry’s gaze. Harry blinked, completely taken aback by the forthright admission. “What did you say to Hermione first year when she said there was no wood to light a fire with the Devil’s Snare?” he demanded.

Ron actually managed to turn a deeper shade of scarlet. “I’m not an imposter, Harry!”

“Answer the question, then,” replied Harry with crossed arms and raised eyebrows. “What did you say to Hermione that night?”

Ron groaned and rolled his eyes. “I asked her if she was a witch or not. Happy now?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Okay, so do you mind explaining how you’re suddenly capable of making such a direct admission of fancying someone? I mean, I’ve suspected it for a while now, but this” – he waved a hand in Ron’s general direction – “is weird.”

Ron sighed. “Look,” he said, “Bill gave me this book about two weeks ago. Let me show you.”

Ginny and Hermione were helping Mrs. Weasley out in the garden at the moment, so it was easy enough to slip away to Ron’s room. Harry plopped himself comfortably on Ron’s bed while Ron dug around in his trunk and pulled out a book.

“Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches,” Harry read the cover dubiously. “You’re willingly reading a book about something other than Quidditch.”

“Shut it,” said Ron without heat, dropping down next to Harry on the bed and opening it.

“Compliments,” Harry muttered as he looked through the table of contents, “gifts…”

“It’s not all about wandwork,” Ron quipped. Harry snorted.

“I’ve figured out that much for myself, thanks,” he said. “So, Hermione…”

“I don’t want to muck things up,” said Ron quickly. “We’ve been friends for years now, but I just…” He groaned and flopped backwards onto his bed. “Ginny told me that Hermione snogged Krum back in fourth year,” he said.

“Okay,” said Harry neutrally. He hadn’t known this, but it wasn’t exactly surprising, either. The international Seeker had seemed quite taken with Hermione that year.

“I talked with Bill about it, and I don’t – she’s important to me.”

“I get that,” said Harry. “She’s very much the sister I never had.” He hesitated. “When did you realize you saw her differently?”

“The Yule Ball,” said Ron, confirming Harry’s suspicions. “But I – I have no experience, and I always seem to be putting my foot in my mouth at the wrong moments, but I’m hoping this book will help me figure it out so when I do, you know, ask her, I do it right.”

This seemed logical to Harry, so he resolved to give Ron the space he needed to figure things out. He just hoped that their friendship wouldn’t suffer as a result.

Of course, it was hard to see that Ron wanted to make a difference after he knocked over his glass of pumpkin juice that evening when eagerly passing a basket of rolls to Fleur and went so red his face matched his hair. Hermione, as per usual, went strangely silent and stiff, suddenly ignoring Ron for the rest of dinner.

Harry noticed Sirius and Mr. Weasley watching his two friends, and saw them both send secretive smiles to each other as Fleur prattled on about wedding plans. They were always polite in Fleur’s presence, whatever it was they truly thought of her, but Ginny could not be dissuaded from referring to the French woman (though at least out of her earshot) as Phlegm, which made Harry laugh every time despite himself.

He really loved Ginny's jokes and personality. And well, everything about her. He often kept her company when she was working on her summer homework, or when she was collecting produce from the garden for her mother. She didn’t seem to mind that he followed her just about everywhere. The flashbacks and panic attacks actually tended to pass more quickly when she was around.

“Sorry,” he mumbled once after a particularly bad flashback involving a comment Bill had made one evening at dinner about the upcoming trial of Umbridge.

“Harry,” said Ginny firmly, “I love you, and I need you to know that you have nothing to be sorry for.”

It was hard to believe this after years of having to apologize for every little thing, but Ginny refused to let a single apology go without reminding Harry that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t long before Ron and Hermione started saying it, as well as Sirius and even Mrs. Weasley. Everyone seemed determined to make sure Harry knew he wasn’t at fault for the way his brain worked.

He was grateful for it, but it felt overwhelming at times, too. Those were the times Ginny seemed to recognize that he needed space, and would pull him outside to a quiet part of the orchard to just sit and be. She didn’t talk to him or make him talk to her, but instead would let him breathe, let him figure things out. For the first time in his life, Harry found himself experiencing moments of incredible happiness and contentment, and more often than not, Ginny was the source of that.

This, however, always led him back to the realization he'd made back at that Muggle park in Little Whinging.

Love.

With every passing day, Harry found himself falling more and more for the vivacious redhead. As July carried on, she developed a sort of sixth sense as to when he was having a flashback, and could even halt a panic attack before Harry realized he was having one. It was strange, but also incredible, the way she could read him, and he sometimes wondered how much of it came from years of watching him from afar, and how much of it was just her.

But how to tell her of the way he felt? He'd bungled things with Cho, but it had always felt rather uncomfortable talking with her, probably because they’d had so little in common. She was pretty and played Quidditch, but otherwise...

Ginny was so easy to talk to about anything and everything, and it was never awkward with her. But telling her this, it was different. He didn't want to make a mess of things with her.

"That will not happen," said Sirius firmly when Harry finally confided in him. "You already know she loves you, kiddo. You just tell her and let the romance flow naturally."

This seemed a bit rich coming from a man who had been determined to stay a bachelor his whole life (well, prior to being incarcerated, anyway), but he did have a point. Ginny loved him and made sure he knew it everyday. She wasn't going anywhere.

“What?” said Ginny one evening as they sat under a tree away from everyone else. Harry had needed some space, and Ginny had realized it without him saying a word yet again.

Harry startled, realizing that he had been staring at her for some time now, thinking of the way he felt about her. His face warming, Harry mumbled, “Nothing,” and looked away.

He could almost feel Ginny frowning, but stared determinedly at an ongoing tussle between two garden gnomes and a worm. Ginny stayed quiet, almost as though she was waiting for something, though Harry couldn’t figure out what that might be.

Finally, Ginny spoke again. “There’s something that’s been on your mind for a while now,” she said softly.

Harry frowned a bit, wondering what she meant.

“I’ve seen it every time you spend even a part of the summer with us,” she added after a moment, “not to mention this past Christmas.” Harry glanced up to see her gazing at him. “I think part of you keeps wondering if this is real, if it’s something you’re deserving of.”

“You have never been deserving of anything, boy.”

“He’s lying to you,” Ginny’s voice interrupted the flashback, and Harry sucked in a breath as he came to, meeting Ginny’s bright brown eyes, her hands tightly clasping his.

“Is he?” Harry finally said, surprised at the words that he spoke. “I was never happy before I met your family.”

“Those Muggles did it on purpose because of what you are,” said Ginny fiercely, shaking his hands a bit with her own. “It was never about you, it was about them, their insecurities and fear about what you’re capable of. Harry, they placed fear and prejudice above everything else, and they – they let that dictate the systematic neglect and abuse of a child who’d already lost so much!” She shook her head, expression so intense and blazing it made Harry’s heart pound.

“You have always been deserving of love and happiness,” Ginny continued. “I know you’re accepting that what was done to you growing up was wrong, but you’re still questioning your right to be happy. That’s why I bring you out here, why Hermione puts up with Quidditch every day, why my mum makes your favorite foods, why Ron demands Quidditch every day.” Harry cracked a small grin despite himself at this. “It’s – it’s why Phlegm dotes on you, and Bill holds his tongue when he wants to act the overprotective brother.” Ginny smiled warmly at him. “It’s why Sirius brings you here every single day, rain or shine, why Remus is going undercover with werewolves but still comes to visit you every chance he gets. It’s why Tonks spends time with you and Sirius at Grimmauld Place every night, why my dad just smiles every time I tell you how much I love you.” She gripped Harry’s hands more tightly now. “It’s why the Order fights every day to keep us safe, why my parents are putting up with the extra security and having our post searched. We do it because you deserve it, every last ounce of happiness we can offer.”

Harry didn’t know what to say, but Ginny didn’t seem to need to him to say anything. “I love you, Harry,” she whispered, “and I would happily spend the rest of my life showing you that love.”

Harry stared at Ginny, awestruck and feeling the urge to say what was really on his mind more than ever before. Just then, however, he heard Mrs. Weasley’s voice.

“Harry, Ginny! Suppertime!”

Ginny smiled, leaned forward to firmly kiss Harry, and then she was on her feet, pulling him upright and leading him back to the Burrow. Harry followed, mind elsewhere as he considered everything Ginny had said to him. To be deserving of that much love and care when he’d been less than the worms in Aunt Petunia’s garden… but he knew he couldn’t completely trust his own mind on the matter. He did know, however, that he could trust Ginny.

That he did trust Ginny.

When it came right down to it, this summer break was turning out to be the best Harry had ever experienced, even with the landmines he frequently hit, or the news of people disappearing, dying, or being attacked by dementors. Sirius and the Weasleys were devout in their given task of keeping Harry safe, for which he was equal parts guilty and grateful.

Sadly, any news that came their way regarding anything to do with the Muggle world always put Hermione in a somber mood. “The Order’s keeping an eye on my parents,” she admitted to Harry quietly one evening after Mr. Weasley had come home bearing news of dementor attacks in Hendon, which wasn’t far from her home. “Still, I can’t help but worry that the next time someone comes back with bad news, it’ll be about them. I want so badly for them to be safe.” She sighed and leaned back into the couch they were sitting on while waiting for Ron and Ginny to finish helping their mother wash up after dinner as Sirius, Mr. Weasley, and Bill talked Order business outside.

“How much do your parents know about what’s going on?” Harry asked her.

There was an unreadable look in Hermione’s eyes as she stared past him to the living room window. “Not much,” she finally answered. “They’ve asked more questions since they had to come to Hogwarts last month, but they don’t know enough to really worry about me.”

Harry frowned. “But I thought that’s what parents are supposed to do,” he said. “Worry about you, I mean.”

“Of course,” said Hermione quickly as she looked his way without actually meeting his eyes, “but we have Mr. and Mrs. Weasley for that, Harry. And Sirius, obviously, as well. That’s the problem, though.” She finally met Harry’s gaze with her own. “My parents are Muggles, so they don’t understand a thing about our world or our culture, let alone the bias and prejudices we struggle with. They… find it all rather confusing, to be honest.” She smiled sadly. “Obviously, they love me, don’t get me wrong, but it sometimes feels as though they don’t quite know what to do with me, especially since my life has shot in such a drastically different direction than they first thought it would.” She reached out for Harry’s hands and clasped them tightly in her own.

“If my parents really understood what’s been going on in the news, they would have insisted on leaving the country,” she said earnestly, “on getting me out and trying to keep me safe. But they can’t do that, not really.”

“Hermione –” Harry started, but she cut him off.

“I know where I belong, Harry,” she told him, “and that is right here with you and this family we’ve made.”

Harry blinked several times and looked away, deeply touched by Hermione’s words. When she suddenly pulled her hands away and threw her arms around him, he hugged her back, feeling so grateful for the friends and family he had gained since starting at Hogwarts.



As Harry's birthday neared, so too did Umbridge's trial. Neville and Luna had readily agreed to testify in court against Umbridge (though Sirius had taken to calling her "Umbitch" when he and Harry were alone), and it soon became common to see them traipsing around the Burrow and the surrounding grounds with Harry and the others. Luna had convinced her father to abandon their hunt for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks to be there for the trial because she wanted to support her friends.

"She didn't have friends before," Ginny confided to Harry. "I mean, she had me, but everyone else in our year thinks she's, well..."

"Loony?" Harry guessed dryly.

"To be fair," said Ginny quickly, "she hasn't been quite the girl I knew since her mum died, but she never stopped talking to me my first year, even when I was at my most withdrawn. I've always appreciated that about her."

Harry couldn't imagine Luna being any other way given her unique gift of not giving a damn what anyone else thought of her. Harry wished he was capable of the same thing, but given that he'd spent most of his life being put down, it was difficult to not seek out approval from others.

When approached with the idea of having Neville and Luna over almost daily, Mrs. Weasley actually turned to Sirius and asked him what he thought. Sirius appeared startled by this. “Well,” he said slowly, “I think it’s safe to say they have both proved themselves good and loyal friends. I don’t think having them come over would jeopardize Harry’s safety in any way.”

“Agreed,” said Mrs. Weasley firmly. “Merlin knows the Longbottoms have long been supporters of of the Light, and we’ve known the Lovegoods for so long… Luna used to come over all the time before her mother passed, poor dear.”

And so it was decided.

On the days that they were there, Neville couldn't be persuaded to play any kind of pick-me-up Quidditch (he had developed a rather healthy fear of flying after breaking his wrist their first year), and Luna claimed the orchard was in danger of a wrackspurt infestation, which would make it too difficult for her to fly because they made your brain go all fuzzy. Having already accepted Luna's fanciful belief in things that didn't even exist in the Wizarding world, no one questioned this, though Hermione did have that exasperated look on her face that she tended to get whenever Luna talked about the things her father printed in his magazine, the Quibbler.

Sirius jokingly asked Luna if her father could get him in touch with Stubby Boardman, the man he'd claimed in an article a year ago was using Sirius's name as a cover to hide his true identity. "I can't promise anything," she told Sirius, "but I'll have Daddy see if he can make it happen. Stubby takes his own safety very seriously, you know."

Ginny met Harry’s eye and they both had to look away to keep from laughing.

Sirius was always up for a good laugh, sharing stories of pranks he’d pulled in his school days with Ron and Ginny, and sharing some embarrassing stories of all the ways in which Harry’s father had tried to convince his mother to go out with him, some of which left everyone shooting Harry amused looks that made him feel rather appalled by his father’s teenaged ego.

“Luckily for me, that ego didn’t carry over,” said Ginny one evening with a grin when Harry expressed utter disbelief at one story involving James, Sirius as Padfoot, a Krup, a pair of angry bowtruckles, and two weeks’ worth of detention from the now-retired Professor Kettleburn, the previous Care of Magical Creatures teacher.

Ron snorted. “Harry doesn’t even have an ego.”

“I do, too!” Harry insisted as Bill started to laugh from where he and Fleur were cuddled by the fire. “I’m not complete rubbish at everything."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “I’m sorry, but who was it just last year saying that he ‘had a lot of help’ with all the incredible things he’s managed over the years? Remember saying how first year was ‘luck’, or second year’s ‘if Fawkes hadn’t turned up’, or third year being a ‘fluke’ because of the time turner –”

“So he’s extremely modest, then,” cut in Ginny, laughing a bit as Harry scowled at his friends. “Don’t worry, luv, I can happily stoke your ego as far as snogging is concerned.”

Sirius roared with laughter as Ron blanched and Hermione groaned, burying her face in her hands. Bill raised his eyebrows at Harry, who felt distinctly hot under the collar and decided to stare intently at his knees.

“Eet eez important to ‘ave some ego, zough,” piped up Fleur. “Ego eez ze foundation of self-confidence, after all.”

“In that case,” said Bill, and Harry looked up to see a bit of smirk on the man’s face, “Harry’s allowed ego in Quidditch, right? Youngest Seeker in a century, Ron bragged about it in at least three letters he sent me his first year.”

“Also Defense Against the Dark Arts,” put in Hermione quickly. “You’re quite good at Charms, Transfiguration, and Herbology, as well as Potions, Harry.”

“And snogging,” said Ginny firmly. “You lot can’t leave snogging out of it.”

Harry’s face was positively burning now.

“Merlin’s pants, Ginny,” groaned Ron, “do you have to talk about my best mate that way?”

“Language, Ronald,” said Bill. “Clearly you aren’t setting a good enough example for our sister to follow.”

“You’re one to talk,” said Sirius with a grin, “sitting there with Fleur draped all over you.”

“It's not my fault the French don’t shy away from public displays of affection,” said Bill easily, arms tight around his fiancé.

“You know me so well, Bill,” said Fleur, leaning in to kiss him. Ron scowled at his brother and looked away while Ginny mimed gagging all over the rug, causing Hermione to choke on the sip of tea she’d just taken as Harry pressed his lips together, trying hard not to laugh.

Sirius chuckled. “We’ll develop a healthy ego in you yet, kiddo,” he remarked to Harry as Ron thumped Hermione on the back.

Some days, though, Sirius was there for the harder conversations, offering kindness and strength for those who needed it. One wet day near the end of July, that person was Neville.

“Gran keeps going on about my excellent choice in friends,” he told Harry with a flushed face as they warmed themselves by the kitchen fire; Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had gone upstairs to change out of their wet clothes, having been caught out in the sudden bout of rain now drenching the outdoors, and Luna had decided to Floo home early rather than submit to the drying charm Sirius had used with both Harry and Neville. “She said our parents were all friends at school, too.”

“Frank’s a good man,” said Sirius from the kitchen table as he sorted through a pile of missives regarding the Black estate (“It’s a never-ending process, this,” he’d told Harry once). “He was two years ahead of us, but he was always kind and just, if a bit quiet.” He looked up with a smile. “You remind me quite a bit of him, Neville,” he said. “Alice was always outgoing and determined to do the right thing, and once she latched onto Frank, that was it for the both of them.”

Neville had gone quite pink in the face. “Gran frequently says I’m not much like my dad,” he mumbled.

Sirius rose at once and strode over to Neville, placing firm hands on his shoulders. “Those who grieve frequently remember only the very best of the people they love,” he said knowingly. “Your grandmother has never stopped grieving the horrible fate your parents met. I don’t think she really sees your father as he is because she cares so deeply about who he was. At the height of his time, he was a strong and gifted Auror, to be sure, but he was still the kind, just, quiet man I knew in my days at Hogwarts.” He bent down a bit to meet Neville’s eyes. “I went to visit them a few weeks ago with Augusta’s permission,” he admitted quietly.

Neville’s eyes widened in surprise. “They didn’t recognize you, did they?” he asked sadly.

“No,” said Sirius. “They did not. But I still see those parts of them, Neville. I can see that same love and kindness in them both. And when I said your name, Alice smiled.” He smiled at Neville before glancing at Harry. “The ones who love us never truly leave us,” he said. “I know your parents love you still, even if they aren’t able to express it the way other parents do.”

Harry hastily looked away as Neville wiped at his eyes, trying to afford him some modicum of privacy. “Thank you,” Neville whispered at last. “I – I want to do them proud.”

“You’ve already done that,” said Sirius. “Both of you.”

Neville looked at Harry and gave him a watery smile. Harry returned it, thinking himself lucky to have Sirius for a godfather, and Neville for a friend.



The day before Harry's sixteenth birthday, he finally found the perfect opportunity to talk to Ginny about his growing feelings for her without fear of interruption. Mrs. Weasley had headed to the market with Fleur (neither women seemed pleased to be in each other’s company as they left) to purchase things they would need for Harry's birthday dinner the next evening, and Ron and Hermione were with Luna, visiting Neville at his home for his birthday that day since they were a bit less likely to be targeted by any Dark witches or wizards than Harry or Ginny. After they all left, Sirius only said, "Don't do anything I wouldn't do" with a knowing wink in Harry and Ginny’s direction before settling down in the living room to answer a series of missives regarding his estate and who knew what else.

Ginny immediately dragged Harry outside to one of the better hidden spots they tended to use when they wanted to be alone. As they approached the hidden alcove set on the edge of the orchard, Harry's heart began to race from a combination of nerves and excitement. He wanted the first time he said those words to be only between the two of them, but could he really go through with it?

Harry laughed as Ginny pulled him down to the ground. "Eager, are we?"

Ginny pushed him onto his back and leaned over him, an almost predatory look in her bright brown eyes. "You have no idea," she said before she closed the distance between him, mouths crashing together as Harry wrapped his arms around Ginny's lithe frame. The idea that he'd ever done anything close to this with anyone other than Ginny seemed unfathomable. There was only Ginny, the flowery scent of her surrounding him, and it was everything that Harry could ever want or need. Her hands were under his shirt now, and he gasped into her mouth as she touched him. The sensations were incredible.

Harry needed to get a grip on his mind before he lost his nerve, and gently pushed Ginny away. "Hang on," he said breathlessly to Ginny's annoyed and frustrated expression. "I need – I wanted to…" He swallowed hard, unsure of what to do next.

"What is it, Harry?" asked Ginny, pushing her mane of hair away from her flushed face. Harry sat up, just taking her in for a moment, everything from her bright eyes and fiery hair to her freckled skin.

"You're so beautiful," he said without thinking, and Ginny's flush deepened as she smiled.

"You're not so bad looking yourself," she teased, and Harry snorted.

"I mean it, though," he told her earnestly, unable to keep from touching her, one hand on her shoulder while the other ran through her hair. "I – these last few weeks, it's been like… like something out of someone else's life, someone happier and safer than I've ever been, and I – I never thought I'd ever get to experience or – or deserve something like this." He swallowed again. "I realized a few things recently," he admitted.

"What?" asked Ginny quietly, seeming to sense Harry’s need to talk.

"I realized that you're in as much danger as I am, for one thing," he sighed. "When you saved me that night."

"I know," Ginny admitted. "What I did – I don't regret it for a moment, but knowing how Voldemort likes to use the ones we love against us… it's terrifying."

Harry nodded. "He might do exactly that, you know."

"I don't care!" exclaimed Ginny. "I've already told you this before –"

"Bit hard to forget," said Harry with a grin.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Love is a strength," she said, "and all the pity to Voldemort for not understanding that." She placed her hands on Harry's chest. "I'm not going anywhere," she said.

"I don't want you to," Harry told her firmly. "That's the other thing I realized."

Ginny frowned a bit as Harry took a steadying breath. "Harry?" she asked softly.

I can do this, he told himself firmly.

"Ginny," he said, willing his voice to remain steady, "I… I love you."

For a moment that seemed to stretch on for an eternity, Ginny stared at him. Then, the most incredible smile spread across her face, and her hands moved from his chest to cup his face. "Say it again," she whispered, eyes brighter than normal.

"I love you," repeated Harry, more confidently this time. Ginny's smile somehow grew bigger.

"Again," she demanded, and Harry couldn't stop himself from smiling, too.

"Ginny Weasley, I love you," he told her, and she let out a delighted laugh.

"I love you, Harry," she said, and then she was kissing him as she'd never kissed him before. The intensity of it left Harry feeling lightheaded as he responded in kind, the love he felt for Ginny filling him with joy beyond anything he'd ever experienced before. He lost himself to the sensations, Ginny's love and presence the only things he knew as they explored each other beneath the trees of the only place Harry had ever felt truly safe.
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