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SIYE Time:14:45 on 28th March 2024
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steady as the stars
By lazyweekendmornings

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Category: Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley
Genres: Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 78
Summary: The war is over and Ginny returns to school, but it isn't easy to pretend like everything is the same as before.

[sequel to 'all your fumble words']
Hitcount: Story Total: 33722; Chapter Total: 1714
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
sorry for the delay, and i hope everyone's staying safe!




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“So,” says George, “I take it things are still awkward at home?”

Ginny brushes the ash from off herself as she steps out of George’s fireplace. He’s sitting at a small desk in the living room, poring over a scroll of parchment.

“What makes you say that?” she says defiantly, going to sit on the sofa. There’s an old jumper strewn carelessly across one of the cushions. Harry’s, she thinks. She lifts it up and tugs it on, only because it’s cold in George’s flat. No other reason at all.

George raises an eyebrow at her.

“Why aren’t you at the shop, anyway?” she asks.

“Verity’s handling it. I’m going over the stock. It’s boring as sin,” George says. “Which is why I’m glad you’re here, so I make fun of you pouting.”

“I’m not pouting,” Ginny says.

“You kind of are,” Hermione says. Ginny jumps at the sound of her voice. She hadn’t noticed her Flooing in. “How are you, George?” she adds.

“Bored,” George says, setting the scroll down. “Then again, anything feels boring after yesterday’s scene at home. Have you spoken to Mum, Gin?” he adds.

“No,” Ginny says. “I will soon, though,” she adds, both so that they won’t worry and because she knows it’s inevitable. Her temper’s a bit like her mum’s. It flares up suddenly and goes down as suddenly as that. She and her mum, they’ve never argued for more than a few days about anything. “I haven’t really talked to Dad about it all week, either,” she adds. It’s been a busy week at the Ministry, and what with NEWT prep and his late days, she’s barely seen him.

“You’ve got a very fun encounter in store for you when you get back home, then,” George says.

Ginny groans. “I might just stay here tonight, then,” she grumbles.

“You might have to, actually,” Hermione says, sitting down next to Ginny. She takes out a small beaded bag from the pocket of her jeans and opens it up, setting it down on the table by the sofa. One wave of her wand, and a seemingly endless number of books and scrolls of parchment come flying out and settle down, covering the surface of the table completely. “We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

George takes one look at the table and then says, “Merlin, I’m glad I didn’t do my NEWTs.” Ginny can’t disagree with him, really. She’s doing far less NEWTs than Hermione is, but it’s still overwhelming. It doesn’t help that the fight with her mother is weighing heavy on her mind. She’s been trying all day but hasn’t been able to study at all. It’s quite annoying.

“When will the others get in?” she asks George, in her best effort at being casual. George’s smirk tells her that her efforts have backfired spectacularly.

“Your brother isn’t good enough for you now, huh? Now all you wanna see is the Chosen One himself?” he teases.

“Fuck off,” Ginny says half-heartedly.

“Are you sure it’s alright if we study here?” Hermione asks.

George gives Hermione a smile. “Course. I invited you, didn’t I? Reckon you all need a place to study if you’re actually going to pass these exams.”

Ginny knows why George invited them over for dinner, and it has nothing to do with studying and more to do with making sure she’s okay after the fight on Monday. Instead of saying that, though, she says, “We’ll pass, thank you very much.”

“Although Transfiguration is so much more difficult than I thought it would be,” says Hermione, brow furrowed in worry. “So is Arithmancy. And Ancient Runes. And–”

“Hermione,” Ginny interrupts, “you helped take down Voldemort and stayed on the run for a year. If you don’t pass these exams, no one will.”

“It’d be like Harry not passing his Auror tests,” George puts in.

“We shouldn’t take any chances, though. We can’t take this lightly,” Hermione says.

“Can’t take what lightly?” Ron asks, stepping out of the fireplace. Ginny jumps. She really needs to stop getting so surprised at that.

“The NEWTs, Ron. And your Auror tests, too,” Hermione says, getting to her feet.

Ron looks a little uneasy at her words. “Yeah, Robards was going on about it at work today. Said it’s the first time Aurors have been allowed to take the tests after a year instead of two years, and he doesn’t want us expecting it to be easy.” He takes his cloak off and tosses it onto the sofa, where it narrowly misses Ginny.

Ginny glances at the fireplace, which turns emerald green. She gets to her feet just as Harry steps out, looking exhausted. “Hi,” he mumbles in George’s general direction, but then he looks at Hermione and Ginny, and his face lights up.

“Hi,” Ginny says, making her way over to him. “I heard Robards has been giving you both grief about the tests,” she says.

Harry shrugs. “Yeah. I’m glad to be home, to be honest,” he says.

Ginny reaches up and kisses his cheek. I’m glad to be with you, she thinks. But instead she says, “Well, we’d better get to work, then.”

*

By the time Hermione declares that they’re done for the night, Ginny’s exhausted. She’s sprawled out on the floor, leaning against Harry’s legs, and her eyes are burning from how much reading she’s done. Ron and Hermione have snuck off to Ron’s room, and George has disappeared into his own room, muttering something about the prototype for a new kind of Skiving Snackbox. It’s just her and Harry in the living room, and usually, she would take advantage of this to kiss him, but she’s too exhausted to move, she reckons.

“You know,” Harry says, “when I said I wanted to be an Auror, I didn’t think about just how many tests there are.” His voice has gotten deeper and slower, the way it does when he’s sleepy.

“Oh, come on, Potter,” Ginny says, tilting her head. “You killed Voldemort. You can handle a couple tests.”

“Technically, he killed himself,” Harry points out, “these tests won’t do themselves, though.”

Ginny laughs, leaning up to grab his hand. She manages to lift herself up, move onto the sofa next to him. He wraps his arm around her, and she finally lets herself close her eyes.

“Tell me about your day,” she says, resting her head on his shoulder. He smells like soap and books. It’s an odd combination, but not one that she’s averse to.

“Tiring,” Harry admits. “It’s going to be a year since most of the trials happened. Did you know that?”

“Don’t think I could forget if I wanted to,” says Ginny dryly.

“Well. Kingsley and Robards have scheduled all of these follow up appointments with everyone who was acquitted or let off with a light sentence. They’re not interrogations, really, but they reckon that if we keep in touch with everyone who’s likely to know what any Death Eaters out there are planning, then we have a better chance of knowing what’s happening,” Harry says.

Ginny forces her eyes open. “So you had to spend the day interrogating arseholes?”

“Not interrogating, but… yeah,” Harry agrees. “I had to go with Robards to speak to the Malfoys today.”

Ginny shudders. “How was it?” she asks. She thinks about everything Harry’s told her and hinted to her about the Malfoys, and how Hermione goes pale whenever anyone talks about Malfoy Manor. “Did you have to go to their house?”

“No, they came to the Ministry. I had to interview Malfoy, and take notes of it,” Harry says. He wrinkles his nose.

“What did he have to say for himself?” Ginny asks.

“Not much,” Harry admits. “He actually said Muggleborn, though. And he seemed to be trying not to sneer.”

“That’s certainly something,” Ginny agrees, bringing a hand up to muffle her sudden yawn.

Harry looks down at her with a small smile. “How’d your day go?” he asks.  

“Well. Mum and I barely said five words to each other,” Ginny says quietly. “And Hermione had me looking at Transfiguration notes all day, so I feel like my brain is broken. I’ll have to go and face the music tomorrow,” she mumbles. “Can’t go on much longer, can it?”

“I’ll come with you tomorrow morning, if you want,” Harry offers. “It’s a Saturday, so no work. I can come face the music with you.”

“I was hoping to just hide here all day, though,” Ginny says. “But yeah, fine. Thank you. It’ll be less awful with you around.”

“Think of it this way,” Harry says, “it’ll be far less awful than spending the day with the Malfoys and having to take notes documenting the entire experience.”

Ginny laughs reluctantly. “You may have a point there,” she agrees, settling back down in Harry’s arms.

*

They decide to Apparate to the Burrow the next morning, since George is running low on Floo Powder and the shops aren’t open yet. George decides to stay in Diagon Alley to work in the shop, and Ron stays back to help him. Hermione stays, too, claiming to want to study there since her notes are already there, but Ginny suspects more so she can have a day alone with him, which she really doesn’t blame her for.

Ginny’s passed the Apparition test, but she’s still nervous every time she has to do it on her own, so she decides to go with Harry. She much prefers flying; it doesn’t make her nauseous every time. She holds Harry’s hand tighter than she’d admit as they Apparate together into the garden, just past the boundaries.

To her surprise, her dad is sitting by his shed, holding his wand and a spanner and gazing at a motorbike Ginny recognises as Sirius’s.

“Hi, Dad,” she calls out, letting go of Harry’s hand so she can make her way over to him.

“Oh, hi, love,” her dad says cheerfully. “Harry, it’s good you’re here. I was just working on Sirius’s bike. Your bike, I should say.”

“Hi, Mr. Weasley,” Harry says, grinning. “How’s the bike?”

“Oh, it’s good,” Dad says, and then starts to say something about exhaust pipes and magical modifications. Ginny sits back on her elbows, enjoying the sun on her face and the familiar sound of her dad’s voice, and tunes out what he’s saying.

“–But what’s this I hear about the Holyhead Harpies, Ginny?” Dad says suddenly, and that has Ginny’s attention.

She sits up, the slight smile on her face fading a little. “I, uh. I tried out for the team on Monday.”

“I gathered as much,” Dad says.

“Mum’s angry about it,” Ginny says.

“She’s not angry,” Dad says, but Ginny knows that she is. “She’s just surprised. You’ve always told us about that sort of thing before you did it.”

“I’ve never tried out for a Quidditch team before, Dad,” Ginny says. Harry sits down on the grass next to her, takes her hand. She’s grateful for it, more than she can say, and she gives his hand a little squeeze.

“It is rather a big decision, isn’t it?” Dad says, but his voice is gentle.

“I… I suppose so,” Ginny says. “But I don’t know if I’ll get on the team. I would have talked to you and Mum about it once I found out if I had.”

Dad nods slowly. “Are you serious about this?” he asks her.

“Yeah,” she says and squeezes Harry’s hand again. “Really serious. I want to do it, Dad. And I know I shouldn’t have gone to Holyhead without telling anyone–”

“Except Harry, apparently,” Dad says, with a little twinkle in his eye, and Ginny doesn’t have to look at Harry to know he has his sheepish expression on.

“Except Harry. I wanted moral support,” Ginny mumbles.

“I suppose I understand that. You know,” Dad says, “if you’d have told us, I would have come, too.” He has a small smile on his face, and it feels as if a weight is lifted off her chest, knowing that her dad isn’t upset with her about this.

“Really?” Ginny says.

“I’ve never seen you play at Hogwarts before. I’d very much have liked to watch the try outs,” Dad says.

“I wasn’t allowed to see the try outs,” Harry puts in, “I had to wait in a Muggle pub for her.”

“A Muggle pub, did you say?” Dad asks, his entire face lighting up. “You must tell me all about that while I finish up here. Ginny, why don’t you go in and speak to your mother?” he adds, and the way he looks at her lets her know that there’s no real point arguing.

Ginny gets up and brushes the grass off herself. Harry gives her a look, an are you sure you’re okay look, and she nods in response. “Alright,” she agrees. “I’ll go talk to Mum. You can tell Dad all about the Muggle pub, Harry,” she says with a little smile, and then turns in the direction of the house. Time to go face the music, then.

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