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Author: Aibhinn Story: Heal The Pain Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 7 Words: 198,021
Ginny stared at the closed door to Major Miller's office, slack-jawed in disbelief, then turned slowly to Harry. He looked equally stunned. Apparently, he hadn't expected to be released either. They looked at each other for a long moment before Ginny finally gathered enough wits to say, "Well. Let's get those anti-Apparition bands off you." Harry blinked, as if coming back to himself, and held out his wrists. Ginny took hold of his right wrist, inserted the key and twisted it, and the band sprang loose. She set it on Miller's desk and did the same with the other one. Harry rubbed his wrists gratefully as she put the key down next to the two bands; his flesh was raw and red. "Thanks, Ginny." She smiled at him, a bit weakly, a bit tentatively, unsure exactly what to say. He met her gaze, then held out his hands. She stepped forward into his embrace and felt his arms wrap solidly around her, holding her close as his cheek rested against her head. It was an embrace as much of relief as of love. She closed her eyes, letting the fear she'd felt while waiting for his hearing to end slip away. He pulled back just slightly and she looked up. He was smiling. "Shall we go home?" She ran her hands up and down his back. "Just show me the nearest fireplace." The nearest fireplace, it turned out, was in a room of its own off the foyer. Miss Levine showed them where it was, then left them alone, shutting the door behind her. Ginny started for the can of Floo powder, but Harry kept hold of her hand, holding her back briefly. "Gin," he said softly, "I swear I didn't tell them about the baby. Some of my testimony was via Pensieve, and the Hearing Officer is a Ligilimens. He was able to sense it when he took the memory, because my barriers had to come down." His expression was earnest. "But neither he nor Major Miller can say anything—everything related to Voldemort's death is protected by the highest level security clearance there is. It won't come out, Gin, I promise." She leaned up and kissed him. "I know, Harry," she said. "I believe you." She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "Dad and Percy won't be home yet, but I think nearly everyone else is." She held up her left hand, wiggling her fingers so the sapphire caught the light. "Should we tell them?" she asked. "The family, I mean." Harry took her hand and stared at the ring for so long that she began to feel a little nervous. "I'm not out of this yet, Gin," he said at last. "There's still going to be a trial, and I'm not allowed to go back to work, and I can't even have my wand back until the trial is over." He looked up and met her gaze. "Are you sure you want to tell?" he asked soberly. "I won't be hurt if you'd rather wait." She pulled her hand from his grasp and reached up to cup his cheek. "Harry," she said intently, "I would print our engagement on the front of the Daily Prophet and announce it on the WWN, if it were up to me." He grinned, and she smiled back at him. "Barring that," she went on, "I definitely want to tell the family—but it's up to you when we do." He turned his head to kiss her hand, where it cupped his jaw. "How about at dinner tonight, then?" She blinked. I can't have heard that right. "Tonight?" she repeated. "Really?" "Unless you'd rather not." His grin had widened. Her jaw dropped, and she swatted at him. "You—you were just playing with me, weren't you?" she spluttered. He took hold of her hands, laughing. "No, I wasn't. I really was—and am—willing to wait to tell everyone until after all this—" he waved a hand, indicating the legal offices and everything they implied "—is dealt with." "But you don't want to." Her heart felt light. "No, I don't want to." He let go of her hands and slid his arms around her again. She raised her face and kissed him, softly, gently, before pulling back. "We should probably go before someone else needs this fireplace," she said regretfully. Harry pulled a face. "Yeah," he said. "Having Major Miller walk in on us snogging once was bad enough. Do you have the RoR order he gave you?" Ginny patted the pocket of her robes. "Right here." "Good. So we'll go to St. Mungo's first to make sure they've got the paperwork and to get my toothbrush and such, and then we'll go home." Ginny felt a huge, bright smile spread across her face. "Home," she repeated. "Your home too, Harry. It always will be." He grinned and touched the tip of her nose. "It'll do very well," he said. "Until we have one of our own, at least." -------------------- "Harry!" No sooner had he stumbled out of the fireplace than he was engulfed in Mrs. Weasley's tearful embrace. "Oh, Harry, I've been so worried. Are you all right, dear? Ron told me something awful had happened during the fight on New Year's, and you were in hospital, and that was all he could say. You are all right, aren't you? Sit down; you look like you've not eaten in a week! And I can't say that I blame you; that hospital food is half of what keeps people in those wards to begin with—nasty stuff, not at all what a growing boy needs. Why, you're skin and bones." "Mum," Ginny put in, laughing. She'd arrived just before Harry had. "Let him breathe." Mrs. Weasley immediately let go. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she babbled, "I've just been so distracted. You in hospital, and poor Seamus and Lavender, and Ron not going to work, I don't know what's got into me—" "Ron's not going to work?" Harry said quickly, frowning. He glanced at Ginny. She hadn't told him that. "He's been part of the investigation, Harry," she said quietly, raising her eyebrows and jerking her head minutely toward her mother, who had turned toward the stove and was now banging pots and pans, trying to put tea together. "Oh, right," he said, cottoning on. Ginny didn't want to speak in front of her mother. But how much does Ginny know about that night? he wondered. Probably more than she should—maybe even about Jones and Baddock. I doubt Ron could keep much of anything from her if it had to do with his safety or mine. I doubt he'd survive long if he tried. "Why don't you two go get washed up?" Mrs. Weasley was saying. "If you'll put your dress robes with your dirty laundry, Harry dear, I'll make sure they're properly cleaned for you. It's nearly teatime; I'll have something for you to eat presently." "Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said gratefully. He took Ginny's hand and they started up the stairs. Once they were out of sight and earshot, up on the second landing, he tugged Ginny to him. "Want to wash my back?" he suggested, grinning. She grinned too, but said, "Better not, Harry; Mum might come looking for one of us, and if we're both in the bathroom at the same time, she might get a little suspicious." "Perhaps just a bit." He leaned down to kiss her. It was just beginning to hit him, truly hit him. He was free—not out of the woods just yet, perhaps, but he was out of St. Mungo's for good—he was free. "So we should go separately." She pulled away from him reluctantly. "I'll meet you downstairs in a bit." She turned to head up to her own room, then stopped and turned back. "Harry," she said quietly, "I think I should keep the ring off until dinner. Otherwise, someone's going to notice." He felt a spasm of disappointment. "Er—right," he said, trying not to let his regret show in his voice. Over the past week, he'd got used to seeing it on her finger; it hurt to think of her taking it off. She pulled it from her finger with clear reluctance, and picked up his hand. "Here," she said, placing it on his palm and curling his fingers closed over it. "You keep it for me. And the next time you put it on my finger will be the last. It'll never come off again." She smiled, kissed him, and ran up the stairs, disappearing into her bedroom. He stared after her for a long moment, a foolish smile on his face, before heading on to his own room. He pulled off his now-filthy dress uniform robes and placed them in the laundry basket before pulling on a pair of jeans and grabbing a tee-shirt. He needed to wash before he went downstairs; it had been some time since he'd Flooed anywhere, and he'd forgotten how dirty it made one. He was just about to head for the bathroom when a pop sounded from the corner of the room. He whirled, crouching and reaching for the wand that wasn't strapped to his wrist. A basin of steaming water had appeared on his dressing table, along with a cake of soap, a facecloth, and a towel. He blinked, then relaxed and laughed. Probably Ginny, he decided. Mrs. Weasley's busy, and Ginny's now of age, so she can do stuff like that outside of school. He dropped the shirt onto his bed on his way to the dressing table. Dipping the facecloth into the water, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and grimaced. His hair, which had always been messy until he'd cut it to fit the dress code for the Unspeakable Corps, was beginning to look a little shaggy. He'd needed a trim the night of the party; now, more than a week later, he definitely did. He paused in the process of wringing out the wet facecloth. More than a week, he thought. That means this is Ginny's last week of holidays. This is—what, Tuesday?—and she goes back to school Monday next. More than a week in St. Mungo's. More than a week in a sterile, not-quite-white hospital room, visited only by Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and Remus. Hermione, rather embarrassed, had explained that Mr. Weasley's position as Senior Secretary to the Minister would be compromised if he were known to have visited Harry, given the circumstances. Harry stared at his reflection. His face was thin, he noticed clinically; it made his eyes stand out more than usual, even behind his glasses. His scar, which had not been hidden behind its glamour since the night of the party, showed clearly through the grime of Floo travel. More clearly than it usually did, in fact; since Voldemort's death, it had begun to fade. Most days, unless one was looking closely, it was hardly visible at all. He raised the facecloth to scrub at the soot and felt the rasping of whiskers against the terrycloth. He needed to shave again. Or be shaved, he thought, since I won't have my wand back until after the trial. If then. He went on washing mechanically while his brain continued down the path it had chosen. Mrs. Weasley seemed glad to see me, he thought, but she doesn't know what happened. She probably just thinks I was wounded in the fight. I bet that's what Percy and Penelope think, too. But everyone else knows exactly what happened. Hell, most of them were right there at the time. His face, even paler than usual, was clean, and it looked drawn and weary. He tensed, then forced himself to put into words the feeling that had been worrying him since he'd awakened in St. Mungo's. Have I lost my family because of what I did? If Mr. Weasley couldn't visit him in St. Mungo's lest it compromise his career, how much worse would it be if Harry were still living at The Burrow? And while Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had come to see him, none of the others had. Were the twins and Bill and Charlie also afraid that Harry's actions would taint them by association? Or were they simply disgusted by the fact that Harry had used Dark magic? How can I justify what I did to a family who fought so hard against the Dark Forces? A knock at his door caused him to jump. "Harry?" Ginny's voice called. Shaking himself out of his reverie, he rinsed and wrung out the facecloth, wiping the last of the soot off his neck. "Come on in, Ginny." The door opened and Ginny stepped inside. She stopped and looked him over. "Mum was right," she said, a note of worry in her voice. "You are thin." "I've always been thin," he reminded her with a forced grin, stepping over to the bed and picking up his shirt, then pulling it over his head. "Are you responsible for the wash water?" "Yes." She was still looking at him oddly, a frown line between her brows. He reached out a hand to take hers, and gently pulled her to him. "Thanks. Your mum would probably have had a litter of kittens if I'd come down to the table looking like I was, and I didn't fancy going up another two flights just to wash my face. I must be getting lazy in my old age." She snorted. "Your 'old age'. Honestly, Harry." "Older than the hills and half as active," he confirmed, making her laugh outright. "Come on. I'm hungry, and it smells like your mum's set up a lovely tea for us downstairs." "She's probably set up tea for about twenty," Ginny grumbled, but allowed him to gently propel her out the door ahead of him. She started down the stairs, but Harry paused for a moment, gathering his courage. If I have to leave The Burrow, he thought steadfastly, then I'll just go. I won't make waves. The Weasleys have been too good to me for that. But I'll let them tell me in their own time. For now, we'll just pretend nothing's happened. He started down the stairs after Ginny. His footsteps sounded louder than usual, somehow. He kept his eyes on the stair treads as he went down—Hogwarts' trick staircases had become ingrained in him—and didn't look up until he reached the last landing. When he did, he stopped in his tracks. Ron and Hermione were standing in the sitting room at the foot of the stairs, looking up at him. Harry swallowed, then continued down the stairs more slowly. Ron approached him as he stepped onto the floor. "Hi," Harry said a bit awkwardly. Without saying a word, Ron reached forward and engulfed Harry in a huge, brotherly hug that nearly lifted Harry off his feet. Harry froze for a second, startled, then let his arms come around Ron and thumped him solidly on the back. Tears prickled the back of his eyes. He shut them and let himself hug the man who was the closest he'd ever have to a brother. After a long minute, Ron pulled away and looked at Harry, moving his hands to Harry's shoulders. His blue eyes were suspiciously bright. He grinned. "You scared hell out of us, you prat." Harry looked at him with a wan smile. "Scared hell out of myself, too," he said honestly. Ron snorted, and Hermione elbowed her way in. "Ron, there are others here who want to hug him, too!" she said in an exasperated tone. Harry smiled. His heart was lifting. "Hi, 'Mione," he said, holding out his arms. Her hug wasn't nearly as bone-crushing as Ron's had been, but that wasn't for lack of trying. "I'm so glad you're home, Harry," Hermione whispered, and he could hear the beginnings of tears in her voice. "So glad. I missed you so much." This time the tears did more than prickle, and Harry felt two warm, wet tracks wend their way down his cheeks. He buried his face in Hermione's bushy hair. If Ron was his brother, Hermione was his sister—the first true family he'd known—and just having them with him again was reassuring in a way he'd never imagined. After a long moment he pulled away, surreptitiously wiping his eyes, and was both amused and touched to see that Hermione was holding out a handkerchief to him while wiping her own eyes with another. He'd never known Hermione to be unprepared for anything. "Listen," Ron said softly, "Mum's setting up a big tea for us—I reckon she thinks you need feeding up or something—but afterwards, we're Apparating to the twins' shop. Bill and Charlie will be there as well. They want to be caught up on what's been going on; the twins have found out a bit as Loki, but most of it's been kept under wraps." Harry felt a start of fear pass through him. Ron must have seen it, for he added, "Harry, look—we just need to know what's going on. We can't help you if we don't have the information we need. That's all." "Help me?" A shimmer of hope slid through him. "Of course, you great git," Hermione said. "You're family. What did you expect, we'd toss you out into the gutter somewhere?" Since that was just what he'd been expecting, Harry didn't say anything. Hermione huffed in exasperation and Ron rolled his eyes. The expressions were so familiar—though the looks were usually meant for each other, not for Harry—that Harry unexpectedly laughed. "Now that's more like it." Ginny had come round the doorjamb from the kitchen and was watching them. Ron and Hermione jumped, startled, and Ginny grinned. "Now that you're done convincing Mr. Potter that we all still love him," Ginny went on, "come on in and have a spot of tea before the table collapses under the weight of the food." "I heard that, Ginny!" came her mother's voice. Harry grinned and followed the others into the kitchen. ---------------------------- Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes was open, brightly-lit, cheerful, and exceedingly dangerous to navigate. After the third time a brush of Harry's robes made something squeak, transform, or explode, Harry took to walking sideways through the aisles, leaving plenty of room between himself and the shelves. Ron, both broader and taller than Harry, had an even harder time of it, much to his brothers' amusement. "It's just a mouse, Ron," George said innocently after a flash and loud, shrill squeaking made Ron jump and draw his wand in a panic. "Honestly, I think the Corps has been bad for you. You never used to be this nervous." "I never used to walk through your store, either," Ron muttered, but made his way to the office in the back without further incident. He didn't sheathe his wand, though, until he was seated in a chair and was certain that the chair wouldn't suddenly become a pig or disappear out from under him. Harry took the chair next to him; Ginny sat on Harry's other side, brushing Floo soot from her robes. The others arranged themselves around the room as well—Hermione on Ron's far side, then Bill and Charlie, with Fred and George perched on their desks. Hermione frowned at the twins. "Shouldn't one of you be watching the shop?" she asked. "We're closed," said George, pulling out his wand and casting Silencing and Locking Charms. "Some things are more important than business." He slipped his wand up his sleeve and looked seriously at Harry. "It's good to have you back, mate. You all right?" "Yeah," Harry said. "'Course I am. I'm fine." "Are you?" Fred asked, his expression serious as well. Harry opened his mouth to say Yes, of course, I'm fine, but something in their expressions made him pause. He couldn't lie to them—or to anyone in this room. "Not really," he said quietly. Ginny reached out and took his hand, squeezing gently. "That's what we thought," George said. His voice was sympathetic. "Just don't go beating yourself up too much, eh, Harry?" Fred added. "Baddock and Jones were slimy bastards to begin with, and now that we know what they're capable of, quite frankly, they deserve what they get." An expression of distaste spread across his features. "There are times I wish I wasn't as good at ferreting out information as I am." Bill cocked his head. "I take it 'Loki' has been out snooping around again?" "Yeah," Fred said without false modesty. "And if any of you were harbouring the secret desire to go to the Dark Side and prove your worth the way those two did, think again. I don't think any of us could hold our stomachs. I nearly couldn't, and I spent more detentions disembowelling disgusting creatures for Snape than any of the rest of you put together." "Except me," George put in. "I was generally with him." Ron swallowed. "We don't need details, thanks," he said. "The three of us were called to the murder scenes; we know quite enough as it is." Fred shook his head and pulled his feet up on his desk, wrapping his arms around his legs. "No, you don't. Baddock and Jones did all those things to their own families, Ron. It wasn't the other Death Eaters; it was them. The Death Eaters just watched." "And it wasn't just the Killing Curse, either," Hermione said. Her face was pale, with a greenish cast to it, but she took a deep breath and continued. "Forensics got the reports back from the Healers who did the full magical autopsy on the bodies. They'd been tortured, badly tortured, and for long periods of time. Organs were coming loose from their connective tissues; blood vessels in the bodies had burst. At least one victim died of a brain aneurysm, not of the Killing Curse." Darkness… firelight… veins burning with hatred… body surging with power… screams, beautiful screams… a figure contorted on the ground… Harry realised he was shaking. Ginny's hand gripped his, hard enough to hurt. She was looking at him with concern on her face, her chocolate-brown eyes worried. He gave a wan smile and squeezed her hand in return. She settled back, but the concern didn't leave her features. "They were tortured with… with Cruciatus?" Ron asked. Harry saw his friend's eyes flicker briefly toward him, and his heart twisted. "No," Hermione said. "They used other curses. Curses that aren't bad if you use them for short periods, like Rictusempra, but if you hold it on them for minutes… or hours…" Harry tried to imagine the Tickling Curse held on him for hours, and flinched. "That's just…sick," he said. "Yeah," Fred said. "That tallies with what I found out, too. There are more curses they can use than just the Unforgivables, which is useful when they're recruiting young people. You generally have to be older and more powerful to use an Unforgivable properly." And hate, Harry thought, but did not say. You have to hate properly, too. With all your being, and so strongly that the rest of the world disappears into the hatred. He knew why they were describing the horrors of what Baddock and Jones had done; they were trying to make him feel better, trying to show him without words that they didn't blame him for what he'd done. But I still blame myself. "I found some things out about you, too, this afternoon," Fred said, turning to face Harry. Harry jerked his attention back again, frowning. "About me?" "Well, about your hearing. Seems you've made yourself a couple of friends and at least one enemy on the Ministry's legal staff." An enemy on the legal staff. That doesn't sound too good. "Who are they?" Fred smirked. "Well, you did always manage to get the right blokes on your side, mate. Major Miller and Colonel Massey have got your back. Miller's rather an odd duck, but he gets the job done and he's well liked, well respected. Massey's even more liked and respected—he'll be taking a position on the Military Court of Review soon, and he's adamant that your case not make it to trial. Something about Umbra clearance and some things being private." Fred cocked his head to one side. "Know what he's talking about?" "Yeah." He didn't look at Ginny, but he knew that she knew, too. Massey had been talking about the baby. "And apparently Miller's got a Pensieve or something that he's keeping under lock and key. That yours, too?" "Yeah," Harry said again. "That's how I gave my testimony. A lot of it was Umbra-classified, so the prosecution never got to see it." George and Fred looked at each other in sudden comprehension. "Oh," Fred said. "That explains it, then." He turned back to Harry. "Major Whitaker is less than pleased with the outcome of the hearing today. He's been on a rampage against the Unforgivables for the past fifteen years, and was all set to take you down hard until Massey said something to him in a meeting this afternoon." Harry blinked, surprised. "Said what to him?" Fred shrugged. "Don't know. It was only the three of them—Massey, Miller, and Whitaker—in Massey's office directly after the hearing. Whitaker went into the meeting in a fairly good mood, and came out again right pissed off. That's all I can tell you." Harry leaned back, chewing his lip thoughtfully. Let's see if I can put this together. Colonel Massey learned about the baby when he took my memories for the Pensieve. He must have seen how it related to Voldemort's death, or he wouldn't have invoked the Umbra clearance. Since Whitaker isn't cleared for Umbra, Massey must have—what? Asked him to drop the charges? Told him to drop them? Convinced him that the security clearance wouldn't let him take this very far? "Harry?" Ron asked. Harry glanced up. "Can you tell us what happened at that hearing today? I mean," he added quickly, "I'm glad you're back, but I didn't expect—that is, I was kind of surprised—" Harry understood: Ron hadn't really expected him to be released so soon. He looked round. All eyes in the room were on him. Expressions of concern and compassion surrounded him, and despite himself, he felt a small glow of contentment. They were still on his side—they were still his family, even after all he'd done. He took a deep breath and told the whole story, as best he could remember it, leaving out only the part where Colonel Massey had asked him if there was an omission in the list of family he'd lost in the Wars. He did mention the questions about Umbra, and Colonel Massey telling Major Whitaker that he'd likely never be rated for that level of clearance. "What is Umbra clearance?" Hermione asked. "Something to do with Nacht?" "In a manner of speaking," Bill told her. "In terms of the types of information that are classified by it. Umbra is the highest level of security classification in the Department; I don't think there are more than a dozen people rated for it. Everything related to the Fynalle Strykke is classified Umbra. They don't want anyone to get wind of that particular spell ever again. I'd be very surprised if the book in question hadn't been removed from Hogwarts' library, probably without McGonagall's knowledge or consent." "They can't do that!" Hermione gasped. "Suppressing information like that?" Charlie rolled his eyes. "Hermione, what would happen if, oh, Draco Malfoy got hold of it and talked someone stupid, like Crabbe or Goyle, into casting it on Harry?" Ginny snorted. "Crabbe and Goyle aren't near powerful enough to cast it properly," she told her brother. "It'd kill them and probably give Harry a headache for about thirty minutes." "That's not the point and you know it, Ginny. That spell is dangerous," Charlie insisted. "We're very, very glad that you found it out and used it when you did, but there isn't anyone else I'd trust with it. I'm just as glad the Ministry is keeping it under wraps, thanks." Harry chanced a look at Ginny. She returned his look soberly and shook her head, very slightly. Harry frowned. So the family didn't know that the spell should have killed her. But there was no reason why they should, if Ginny hadn't said anything—and every reason why she wouldn't have wanted to. Questions about why Ginny had survived would lead straight to the baby. "So the Hearing Officer said that the prosecutor couldn't know what he'd seen in the Pensieve because it had to do with how the spell was cast," Hermione said thoughtfully. "And then what?" "Then he adjourned the hearing," Harry said. "I waited in a side room while Major Miller, Major Whitaker, and Colonel Massey had a meeting—a fairly short meeting—and when Major Miller came back, he took me to his office, brought Ginny in, and said I was being released on my own recognizance." The others looked as startled as he'd felt. "Just like that?" Charlie said, leaning forward. "No explanation?" Harry shook his head. "He said the prosecution had—er—" He looked at Ginny. "D'you remember his exact words?" "He said the wheels had fallen off the prosecution's wagon, and Harry was being released," Ginny said. "He also said you two would meet again soon, probably next week." She blinked as if suddenly remembering something. "Harry," she said slowly, "did you tell him you could do wandless magic?" "No, of course not. Why would I—" He stopped too, suddenly remembering what Miller had actually said. He'd been too distracted by his sudden freedom to pay much attention at the time. "Damn. He told me not to get caught doing it, didn't he? He's cleverer than I thought." Another memory from that meeting flashed through his brain suddenly—another part of Miller's advice to him. "Unless you want to be put under oath and asked about what happened on the night that Voldemort cashed in, I recommend that you two get married. Once you're married, neither of you can be forced to testify against the other." He wondered whether Ginny had caught that particular piece of advice—and what she thought of it. "Wheels off the prosecution's wagon?" George repeated blankly. "What does that mean?" "It means something's gone badly wrong with the prosecution's case," Bill said. "But what?" Fred shrugged. "Something to do with why Whitaker was pissed off, I imagine. You said you're meeting with Major Miller next week, Harry?" "Yeah," Harry said, his mind still reeling from the memory of what Miller had said—particularly the bit about marrying Ginny. He tore his eyes away from her, only now realising he'd been staring, and looked at Fred. "Yeah, I think he said within the week." "I guess we'll find out then." Fred looked at his brother. "Should Loki do any more investigating, do you think? Perhaps we can find out what Whitaker's up to." "Loki?" Ginny asked, frowning at her brothers. "Who's Loki?" There was a short, uncomfortable pause as the twins looked at each other, obviously unsure of what exactly to say. She sighed in exasperation. "Onyx," she said, pointing at Harry, then moving on around the circle. "Red Knight. Zephyr. Seth. Blaze. Castor. Pollux." She glared defiantly at the twins. "If I know that much, surely I can know who Loki is, even if the answer is 'one of the blokes from the Corps.'" "You're not supposed to know that much," George muttered under his breath, but quietly enough that Ginny could ignore him. Ron smirked, and Harry was amused as well; it seemed her brothers, no matter how old they were, hadn't yet got over being afraid of Ginny's retaliatory habits from childhood. Ginny waited, arms folded across her chest. Finally Fred ran a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "All right," he said reluctantly. "You've been in on this so far. George and I are Loki—most people in the Department of Mysteries think we're only one person. 'Castor' and 'Pollux' are top-secret names—only the Minister, Umbra Nacht, a couple of other mucky-mucks in the Department, and the people in this room know them." "So you're telling me that your snooping talents from your misspent youth are actually paying off?" "Oh, those paid off years ago," George said, waving a casual hand. "These are a bit more sophisticated. But basically, yeah. As for Loki continuing his investigations—" He turned to his brother. "I daresay it's not a bad idea. What do you think, Harry?" Harry hesitated. He didn't want the twins to get into any trouble on his account, while trying to find things out to help his case, but he wasn't quite sure how to say it. Ginny, however, took matters into her own hands. "Yes," she said decisively. "Anything you can find out can only be to our advantage." Harry swung to face her. "Gin," he said sharply, "we don't need to be getting your brothers into this." "We're already into it, Harry," Fred said, eyebrows raised. "Haven't you been listening all this time? We're in it up to our arses; there's no getting out now." "Sheesh," George added. "Some people." "Ungrateful." "Complaining." "You'd think he'd have a bit more respect for our talents." "And opportunities." "I mean it," Harry snapped at the twins, irritated by their flippant tone. "I'm in serious trouble here, mates. Even if I don't go to Azkaban, there's a better than even chance I'll lose my commission in the Corps. Don't blow your own careers because I was a bloody idiot." There was silence for a moment. Fred and George just looked at him, and the expression in their faces made him feel more than a bit uncomfortable. But it had to be said, he thought doggedly, ignoring the squirming in his belly. I don't want them in trouble, too. "Harry," George said quietly, in a soft, gentle voice Harry had never heard from his mouth before, "do us a favor. Imagine for a second it was Ron, not you, who had cast the Unforgivable." "Hey!" Ron protested, but Hermione elbowed him and he subsided. George continued as though Ron had not spoken. "Would you be willing to just let him go to Azkaban?" he asked. Harry's jaw set. "Of course not," he said. "Would you be willing to leave it completely up to the Ministry's defence counsel, no matter how much you, or he, trusted them?" "No," Harry said. He met Ron's eyes, and saw within them the same fire of determination he knew he'd feel if their roles were reversed. George stood up and walked over toward Harry, stopping about three feet from him. "Would you expect us to do any different?" he asked. "In that situation, would you expect us to stand aside?" For his brother? Harry shook his head. "No," he said. "There's no way. But George, it's—" "Exactly the same thing," George interrupted. "No, it's not," Harry said, exasperated. "Ron's your brother. It's not the same thing at all." "Harry," Bill said, from across the room. Harry looked over at him. His face was set in a determined expression. "Yes, it is," he said. "It's exactly the same thing." Fred, Charlie, and Ron were all nodding fiercely. Harry looked from one face to another, uncomprehending. They couldn't mean what they seemed to mean. Could they? Ginny squeezed his hand, and he turned to look at her. She was smiling, tears standing in her eyes. "You're family, Harry," she said softly. "You always have been. You always will be. You and Hermione. Blood isn't the issue here—love is." Love? He knew he had Ginny's love, of course; since she'd come to see him in St. Mungo's for the first time, he'd not been able to even consider that she might leave him. Even before that, in fact—back to their reconciliation in June, her love had been a constant in his life that had provided a foundation, a stability, that grounded him through the horrors he'd seen working for the Department. But the rest of them? He looked at each of them, one at a time, his gaze travelling round the room. Ron and Hermione—yes, he could believe they loved him. The three of them had been through more in the past seven or eight years than most people encountered in a lifetime. They were nearly as close to him as Ginny—and in some ways, even closer. He could believe it of them. Bill? Charlie? He thought back to the first time he'd met them, just before the Quidditch World Cup. They had always treated him with the same careless affection they'd used with their family. During the Tournament, Charlie had been reassuring about the dragons (at least, after it was over), and Bill—Bill had come with Mrs. Weasley to be his "family" for the Third Task. Bill had been there in the aftermath of the first time Harry had seen death firsthand. And later, during the War and in the past year, they had never treated him any differently from the way they'd treated Ron or the twins. Was that love? And the twins— Fred and George had treated him like an extension of the family from the day they'd met him on the train. From Harry's first year as a Seeker to coming to rescue him from the Dursleys' just before Harry's second year, through the Triwizard Tournament and the horrific year with Professor Umbridge, and as part of the Order in Harry's sixth and seventh years, Harry had always known that, despite their penchant for practical jokes and designing creative ways for things to explode, Fred and George were utterly reliable and willing to go to bat for him or any of their siblings (with the exception of Percy during that brief, regrettable time in Harry's fifth year). Was that love? Harry thought back to his time with the Dursleys. Not one of them would ever have defended him, helped him, or even laughed with him if they could help it. He knew—had always known—that there had been no love there. So… if I find the opposite of that, does that mean it is love? Confused, he looked again at Ginny. She offered a small smile and brought their joined hands up so she could kiss his fingers. She seemed to understand his uncertainty and was willing to let him work his way through it. George had gone back to the desk where he'd been sitting. "Bill," he said, tactfully breaking the silence, "why don't you tell Harry what's happened in the Department since he's been gone." Harry turned his attention to Bill, grateful for the distraction. Bill nodded and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "The Corps had responded to your call and were managing to wrap up the last of the attack just as you—er—found Jones. A good twenty-five Death Eaters had been Stunned or otherwise disabled by that point, and those were arrested, including Jones and Baddock. A good number managed to Disapparate, though; we've no idea where they went." "Of course," Harry muttered. He had always known some would get away. "Elijah is the one who actually brought you to hospital," Bill went on. "You should have seen him when Cipher told him what had happened with you. He just about ripped Cipher a brand-new arsehole for jumping in when he was outranked by every other person there, including Ron, Hermione, and the two of us. Twilight wasn't any happier; he's taken Cipher off the duty rotation and put him on unpaid leave for a week as punishment." So he was the one who Stunned me. "But why's he in trouble?" Harry asked. "I'll be the first to tell you I wasn't exactly in the mood to listen to reason at that point; I can't see that he had many options if he was trying to stop me." His stomach was churning; just talking about what he'd done was gut-wrenching. Bill held up a hand and began ticking reasons off on his fingers. "First, because he was not in command, nor was he even the ranking officer, as I said. He was subject to our orders, not the other way round. Second, because there are very specific sets of circumstances in which one officer can legally Stun another, and none of them had been met. Third, because there was some very convincing evidence that Cipher was acting out of a desire for revenge against you, rather than for the good of the Corps or anyone else." "I think it was the last bit that pissed Elijah off the most," Charlie put in, grinning. "I'm probably not supposed to tell you this, but he told me just after you'd been taken to hospital, 'Onyx has got more patience than any three men. If he snapped, there was reason for it.'" "Elijah said that?" Harry said, flabbergasted. He'd known that Elijah had blamed the fight with Cipher in training camp on Cipher, not on himself, but he'd never realised the older man had thought so highly of him. "Yep. Off the record, of course; it wouldn't do for him to say anything where anyone else could hear. But I daresay he and Twilight both are rather irritated with Cipher." "Good," Ron growled. "Cipher's a nasty, smarmy little prick who plays nice in front of anyone in authority, but loves to go behind people's backs and cock up everything he can find. Bastard." "Ron!" Hermione hissed. "Honestly, your language…" "Give it up, Hermione," Charlie advised, grinning. "You're in the room with a bunch of male soldiers; you're never going to clean up anyone's language." "Besides," Fred said, "Ginny's worse than the rest of us put together." The other Weasleys, including Ginny, snorted in amusement. Only Hermione looked unimpressed. "Listen," Bill said, obviously trying to change the subject back to the topic at hand, "Harry, the Department of Mysteries is keeping this whole subject very hush-hush. Nobody who wasn't right there at the time knows anything about it, except the Minister, Dad, Nacht, Twilight, and of course the folks in Legal who are involved. The Daily Prophet won't hear about it; the folks at St. Mungo's didn't even know why you were there except the Healer who was seeing you. That's why Dad couldn't come visit; if the Senior Secretary to the Minister showed up on that floor for anything but visiting Remus Lupin, notice would have been taken—and officially, you weren't anywhere near St. Mungo's." Harry was thunderstruck. So that's why Mr. Weasley didn't come see me! was his first thought. His second was, Thank God, I don't have to put up with The Daily Prophet over this. The relief, particularly about Mr. Weasley, was enough to make his shoulders visibly relax, and he blew out a deep breath. The fear of losing his place in the Weasley family, of having to leave The Burrow, had been stronger than he'd realised. "Where was he, officially?" Ginny asked curiously. "On leave, along with Ron." Bill looked at his youngest brother. "By the by, Ron, you'll be going back day after tomorrow. They should be contacting you soon to let you know who your new partner will be." "New partner?" Ron's head shot up—he'd been staring at his hands, listening to the conversation. "What do they mean, new partner? Harry's my partner!" "Not until after his trial," Bill said calmly. "We need you back, Ron—the Corps needs you back. We lost three good officers and two others are injured badly enough that they won't be working for at least a month or two. That's six out, counting Harry. We're down a full squad; we can't afford to lose you, too." He turned to Ginny. "And Gin, you need to be especially careful; you're isolated up at Hogwarts, we can't get to you easily, and you're a prime target. We know that Death Eaters know you were there at the Last Battle; we know they know you were a major part of the death of Voldemort, even if they aren't certain how major." Ginny gave a small smile. "I think I'm pretty safe at Hogwarts, Bill." "In the castle, yes," Bill said. "But outside it? Quidditch practise? Hogsmeade?" "I left the team when I started my Animagus training, and I spend most of the rest of my time either in the common room or in the library, revising for the N.E.W.T.s. And I already made a promise not to go to Hogsmeade alone." She shot a grin at Harry, who grinned back. At least she's taking my warnings seriously. Though after New Year's Eve, I can't imagine she wouldn't. Bill gave her a hard look, and she sighed. "Bill," she said, "do you really think I'm stupid enough to go off by myself? I was at both of the two biggest battles in the past year, and I was there when you lot were attacked in the orchard last summer. I'm not completely ignorant of the danger." "Or completely unable to defend yourself," Harry put in, earning him another smile. Bill glared at him, but he wasn't about to back down. Ginny was able to defend herself; she'd shown that time and time again in the DA and in real fighting. I just hope she never has to. He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed back. "I think you're outnumbered, big brother," Charlie laughed. "Honestly, Bill, Ginny hasn't gone out of her way to put herself in danger, has she?" "Not unless you count coming down to Hogsmeade during the Battle," Bill snapped. "And that turned out so poorly, too," Fred sighed. "Fred, you're not helping." "Give it up, Bill," Ron put in. "You won't win." Bill rolled his eyes. "Can't I get any of you to take this seriously?" "We do, Bill," Ginny said. "I do. That's my point; I take it seriously enough that your warning isn't needed. Though it is appreciated." She released Harry's hand, stood, and walked over to her eldest brother, kneeling by the arm of his chair and putting her hand on his. "I'm not your baby sister any more, Bill," she said softly. "I'm not going to go falling into ponds or out of trees or into the arms of Death Eaters, I promise. Okay?" Bill looked at her soberly for a long moment, then tugged a lock of her hair. "Yeah, well, when you changed someone's nappies for years, it's hard to realise they've grown up," he said, obviously attempting to lighten the mood. Ginny gave him an impish grin. "Well, I daresay you won't be changing any nappies anytime soon if Fleur has anything to say about it." Bill sat bolt upright, shock written all over his face as Charlie howled with laughter. "Wh—I—we—how did you know about Fleur and me?" he demanded. Ginny stood and walked back to her seat, settling down in it again. "I didn't," she said in a very satisfied tone. "But I'm pleased you cleared that up for me." The others were staring in shock, Harry included. He hadn't even thought of Fleur Delacoeur for months—he'd seen her at the Battle, but had been far too occupied to do more than notice her presence. Ginny, obviously, had noticed far more. Charlie was shaking with mirth. "Harry," he said between his chuckles, "are you sure you know what you've got yourself into with that one?" Ginny turned her smirk on Harry, and Harry immediately felt nervous. "No," she said in an amused tone of voice. "But he'll enjoy finding out." "All right, all right." Ron stood up. "I really don't need to hear any more along those lines, thanks. It's getting on for half-past seven; we need to head home." He looked at his brothers. "Are you lot coming?" "Yeah," George said. "We've been invited to celebrate Harry's homecoming." He flipped a grin toward Harry. "And no Wheezes this time," he added. "I promise. Wouldn't want you to hex me or anything." Surprisingly, Harry wasn't bothered by the reference to hexes—he found himself laughing. "Yeah, well, even without a wand I can find a way to get back at you, I imagine. And if I don't, your sister would." "Reasons we're not trying today," Fred put in, and Disapparated. Harry grinned and followed. --------------------- Ginny looked around the table with contentment. It had been a glorious supper, made all the better by Harry's presence after a week away. He'd eaten nearly as much as Ron, much to Mrs. Weasley's satisfaction, and had glowed with pleasure at how happy everyone was to see him back. Even Percy, who had been there with Penelope when they'd arrived, had welcomed him back after his 'injuries' had kept him in hospital. Dessert was nearly over, and Ginny felt Harry's hand touch her knee. She placed her hand atop his reassuringly. She knew he was nervous about announcing their engagement. So was she, for that matter. She'd meant every word when she'd said she'd happily announce it on the WWN, but to stand up and say it to her family's faces was a little… unsettling. There's nothing to worry about, she told herself for the umpteenth time. They all love Harry. He's been a member of the family for years. This just makes it official, that's all. Ginny noticed her mother looking at her with an odd expression on her face again; she'd done it two or three times already this evening. Ginny caught her gaze and raised her eyebrows, inviting comment, but her mother just glanced away—then shot her another look out of the corner of her eye. What on earth? It wasn't like her mother to beat around the bush. Ginny'd had first-hand experience for many years of how direct Molly Weasley could be. This furtiveness was more than out of character; it was annoying. I'll have to talk to her after dinner, then, she decided. Work out what's bothering her. She felt Harry brushed a strand of hair away from her face, catching her attention. She turned to him. "Ready?" he asked in a low tone. Annoyance and curiosity melted away, replaced by the butterflies from earlier. This was it. "Yeah," she said, and winced; her voice was shaking. This is your family, she told herself sternly. Stop making things out to be worse than they are. He smiled bracingly at her and stood. The conversations stopped and every head turned expectantly in his direction. Ginny swallowed. Harry cleared his throat. "I, er, wanted to say thank you for this." He swept his free hand around the room, indicating the whole welcome-back dinner. "It means a lot." He paused for a moment, then went on, a bit more slowly. "This house," he said, "has been more of a home to me than anyplace except Hogwarts, and this family became my family almost from the very moment I met you. You took me in; you gave me a place to escape to in the summers; you provided me with friendship, support, and most of all, love. I guess I've always felt that I'm a Weasley at heart—" He grinned suddenly. "Though without the red hair." Laughter. "We can always fix that, Harry," George called, holding up his wand significantly. "George Weasley, DON'T YOU DARE," his mother hissed. "Only joking, Mum." Ginny could see Harry trembling slightly, though with nerves or laughter, she wasn't sure. He glanced down at her and smiled again. "I've always wanted a family of my own," he said, looking straight into her eyes and reaching out to touch her cheek softly. She felt her heart flutter, and a small smile curved her own lips. He looked back up at the family. "And I can't think of a better one to belong to than this one, so we've decided to make it official." He reached down to take Ginny's right hand in his right as she stood, then put his left arm round her shoulders. "Ginny and I," he said, "are engaged." A startled silence descended on the room, broken after a moment by a sudden whoop of elation. The whole family was standing, moving toward them, surrounding them in a surge of motion and noise. Ginny was hugged and kissed and congratulated; out of the corner of her eye she saw Harry being buffetted by claps of hands on shoulders and rough masculine hugs. Penny and Hermione both had tears in their eyes as they came forward, and her father's expression was a mixture of pride, elation, and—worry? She frowned as she looked up at him, about to ask why, but he caught her up in a fierce, tight hug before she could, nearly lifting her off her feet. "I'm so happy for you, Ginny," he whispered in her ear. He pulled back and smiled at her, and she wondered if she'd misread the worry; it didn't seem to be there now. "I couldn't think of a better man to be my son-in-law, and I couldn't give you up to anyone you loved less." Her mother was the last to hug her—not really surprising, as she'd been clear at the other end of the long table, but somehow Ginny had expected—hoped?—that she'd be one of the first. "He's a good man, Ginny," she said as they hugged. "The best of men. I know I can trust him. I know I can trust you." That's an odd thing to say. Ginny pulled away and started to ask what she meant, but Molly turned away. "Bill, Charlie, would you do the washing up for me? I don't think you're on duty tomorrow; is that right?" "Right, Mum," Bill said. "Sure, we'll do it." "I'm afraid we have to leave, Mother," Percy said. "We do have to be at work early in the morning. I've got an inbox piled high, and poor Penny has nearly as much." He glanced lovingly at his wife, who smiled back. "Go on, then, Percy love," Molly said, kissing them both on their cheeks. "Fred? George? Are you staying?" "No, Mum, we can't," Fred said. "We've got a new shipment of inventory in, and George has got to do the accounting for the week." "What do you mean, I've got to do it?" George said, eyebrow lifted. "Well, you keep complaining that my sevens look like twos." "Then you need to work harder at your penmanship, brother dear, you don't need to saddle me with all the dirty number-crunching." "Get Hermione to do it," Ron interjected. "It'll take her about ten minutes. Oof!" Hermione had elbowed him in the ribs. Ginny giggled as Ron rubbed his side. "'Mione!" "Then don't volunteer me for other people's jobs," Hermione said. "It'll be good for them to do it themselves." "They've been doing it themselves for years. Don't you want to learn something new?" "That's enough, dear," Molly said sharply. "Don't antagonise." "They've been antagonising each other since they met, Mum," said George. "Where've you been?" Ginny snorted; she couldn't help herself. Hands wrapped round her waist from behind, and she glanced over her shoulder, smiling at Harry. "Hey!" said Fred suddenly, looking at the two of them. "If you're engaged, where's your engagement ring?" "Oh—right!" Harry said, startled, and Ginny giggled. She knew how disappointed he'd been when she'd decided not to wear it, both when he'd first proposed, and then again this afternoon. It was a measure of how nervous he'd been about the announcement that he'd forgotten to give it back to her. He let go of her waist and dug into his pocket, coming up with the sapphire. "What, no box?" said George, coming up beside his twin. Ginny glared at him. "He gave me the ring when he proposed a week ago," she said. "We decided to keep it secret until we could tell you lot." Her father put his hand on her shoulder. "We're glad you told us first," he said warmly. Harry picked up her hand, drawing her attention back to him. "Well, come here, then," he said, grinning. Ginny found herself holding her breath as his big, broad hands, so very different from her own small, delicate fingers, slid the ring back where it belonged. "Oh, my goodness," Hermione breathed. Ginny curled her fingers round Harry's and the stones caught the candlelight, sparkling along their facets. "Oh, it's lovely!" Ginny looked up and met Harry's eyes. They crinkled at the corners. "Yes," he said quietly. "She is." Hermione and Penny sighed; Ron, Fred, and George gagged; Bill and Charlie smirked. Ginny ignored them all and kissed her fiancé. "All right," her mother said briskly, "all right, you lot, leave them alone. They're entitled to a bit of privacy." "Mum!" George said in a mock-shocked voice. "How could you insinuate such a thing about your own daughter?" "Oh, stop it, George. Out! Go on! You can do the clearing up in a bit, Bill, Charlie." She shooed them all out of the kitchen, flapping her hands at them as though chasing her chickens away from the back door. They went, laughing and talking. Ginny watched them go, her head on Harry's shoulder and his arms comfortably about her. She heard the deep rumble of his chuckle. "I don't think I'd argue that," he said softly. She giggled. Her mother came back in, sighing. "Honestly," she said, shaking her head. "That lot. I don't know how I survived raising them, I really don't. Well, come along, you two, sit down." She indicated the dining-room table, and sat primly down in one of the chairs at the end. Ginny and Harry looked at each other, and Ginny distinctly felt the butterflies returning with a vengeance. Her mother's we-need-to-talk look was never good news. Reluctantly she pulled out a chair and sat. Harry sat next to her, taking her hand in his and holding it securely. "I decided to do a bit of laundry this afternoon while you were in Diagon Alley," her mother said. "And so I went into your rooms to get your dirty clothes. Now, I don't want you to think I was snooping, because I don't do that and you know I don't do that; you're of age and your private affairs are your business. But when things are sitting out in plain sight, well, I just can't help but notice." She reached into her apron pocket and brought out a bottle. A very familiar bottle. One that Ginny would have sworn was tucked between her mattress and box spring. "Ginny, dear," her mother said, "why was there a half-empty bottle of birth control potion on your night table?" A/N: Yes, I know, I know, I'm evil. But it was too good a place to end the chapter. And yes, I'm already working on chapter 14. Thanks to Ahmie, Michele, Jo, Sherry, Rachel, Minerva, and Kokopelli, as well as all my reviewers. You are wonderful. Truly.
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