By the following weekend, Harry's condition had improved immensely. The media were staked outside St. Mungo's waiting for a statement or an interview about 'The Boy-Who-Lived…Again'. Much of Harry's strength had returned; he was quite confident in navigating the ward now. His sleep was still overshadowed by his dreams, which the Healers assured him was quite normal.
At times he could recall Ginny or Ron and Hermione visiting the hospital and speaking to him.
Ginny felt selfish worrying about what she might have said about Dean in Harry's presence. And Dean himself had visited Harry on several occasions.
Gradually Ginny was spending more nights at home than comforting Harry and a part of her still felt guilty for leaving him alone.
Harry ached to be outside. June had arrived and the weather was quite pleasant. He was sure that he would be dismissed from St. Mungo's any day now. He wasn't exactly sure where he would go, but he was glad to have good friends like Remus and a family like the Weasleys, including Hermione, to care about him.
As Harry sat eating a grilled cheese sandwich and tomato soup one afternoon, he couldn't help but notice Ginny's odd behaviour. She flittered about the room tidying up and un-necessarily smoothing the bed sheets.
"What are you on about?" Harry joked, trying to sound a bit more cheerful than he really felt. It had been an exhaustively long night without Ginny.
"Oh, me? Er, nothing." Ginny's reply was smug but nervous, too. It was as if she knew something she wasn't telling him. She tousled his hair, leaving it looking no worse than it had been before. She had given up on tidying that hair six years ago.
Harry pushed the table away with his food tray on it. "You're a horrible liar. Ginevra Molly Weasley," Harry declared, grabbing Ginny as she skirted around the bed and pulled her down into his lap.
"Harry!" Ginny squealed as he zealously began tickling her ribs. "Stop!" she gasped between squirms and rounds of laughter.
"Nope, not until you tell me what's going on."
Ginny smiled mischievously and stretched out across his body before curling up against him. "You'll find out soon enough."
Harry scrutinized her from behind his glasses and deftly slid his hand under the hem of Ginny's shirt and resumed tickling her.
This was the first time in five years that they had been in such intimate, physical contact. It brought back an abundant rush of memories for Ginny...
The first time she had kissed Harry. It had been so innocent and sweet, and Harry hadn't even seen it coming. She'd caught him so off guard, but soon Harry started kissing her back and she thought she'd died and gone to heaven... The first time she let Harry reach under her Hogwarts' jumper as they lay on the couch in the middle of the night in the Gryffindor common room...
With the feel of Harry's touch, Ginny's thoughts rapidly returned to the present. Oh Merlin, Ginny thought, closing her eyes and leaning back against Harry's chest. His hands are about one inch from my…
"It's good to see you haven't lost your spunk, Potter."
Harry hadn't been reprimanded by that voice in over five years, but he recognized it immediately.
"P-Professor McGonagall?" Harry sputtered, giving Ginny a gentle push off his lap.
Ginny hadn't needed the push, as she was already scrambling to move. She knew who else would soon be following her.
"Miss Weasley." McGonagall added with a curt nod, her eyes holding a flash of contempt.
A smile stretched across McGonagall's thin lips. "It's good to see you, Harry."
Harry made an instinctive attempt to neaten his appearance. She had, after all, ingrained it in him in the first place. "You, too, Prof… well, I guess it would be Headmistress, now."
McGonagall nodded again. "Yes, it would be."
Harry always knew that she would make a fine Headmistress when she succeeded Dumbledore.
"You have other visitors, as well, Potter," McGonagall declared, interrupting his thoughts.
A small group of familiar faces filed into Harry's room, bringing tears to his eyes. Ron and Hermione were there, along with Neville, Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, and Dean.
Words couldn't begin to describe the feelings that soared inside him. Harry hadn't known if all of them had survived the final battle and was thrilled to see them all together. He rose from the bed and looked himself over with embarrassment, before gazing over at his smiling friends in their fashionable clothing. They had aged. He could see it, now. Time had indeed passed. They all looked wonderful, successful, older, and happy.
He ruffled the back of his hair sheepishly and blushed a warm shade of red.
"Er, thanks for coming, everyone; it's so good to see all of you." When Harry broke the ice, the old friends crowded around him, as if he'd just helped Gryffindor beat Slytherin on the Quidditch Pitch.
Professor McGonagall smiled silently from where she stood overseeing her former pupils. She removed three scrolls from the inside of her robes.
"Potter, these would have been sent to you via owl five years ago, but under the circumstances, I personally thought it best to keep them safe."
As Harry grasped the rolls of parchment from McGonagall's outstretched hand, he had his suspicions about at least one of the documents. Remembering he no longer had a wand, he looked up to find nine hands with wands reaching out to him, offering their assistance.
He smiled complacently and closed his eyes lightly. Focusing all his energy, he split open the seal of the first scroll.
"Wicked!" Ron proclaimed, a look of sheer amazement blazing across his face.
Ginny gasped, too, "Harry, when did you realize you could still perform wandless magic?" She looked proud but surprised.
He shrugged nonchalantly, looking around at the other faces. "I've been trying Accio and Wingardium Leviosa for the better part of a week."
"Good to see you've still got it, mate," Dean offered, chuckling in disbelief.
Harry opened the scroll, noticing Ginny's odd glances at the familiar faces. He'd make a point to ask her about it later. Unrolling the paper, he saw black ink looping across the parchment.
It was a letter—a letter from Dumbledore.
Harry wasn't really sure if he should read it now, or not. No doubt the emotions would surface once again, and he wasn't sure he could keep them under control in front of so many people. He hesitated for a moment, scanning the room; he seriously considered putting off reading it until he could be alone, but a voice cracked the silence, "I suspect Professor Dumbledore would have taken great pleasure in giving it to you himself." McGonagall looked quite sentimental for a moment. "He was so proud of you, Harry."
Ten pairs of eyes cast uncomfortable glances at the floor, throats clenched, and the old friends were forced to swallow their emotion.
Against his better judgement, Harry began to read the letter.
Dear Harry,
It is dangerous to assume things in one's lifetime, and old men are just as guilty as young men at committing these faults. However, the night I first heard a prophecy made by Sibyl Trelawney regarding a child who would, no doubt, suffer greatly in the hands of this world, I knew you would be special. After your rescue from the grip of death, I held you in my arms, but the arms comforting you should have been your parents'. They knew how special you were, and knew what your place would be in this world.
Eighteen years later, I feel our world is on the periphery of change. Furthermore, I feel I will not be here to see that change. Harry, there have been opportunities where I have taken advantage of our relationship. Opportunities where I could have been honest with you have come and gone, and I will always regret that I had been untruthful. Forgive an old man. As I have said on several occasions, I never wanted to place more on your shoulders than was absolutely necessary, for you already have much weighing on them.
I have always had the utmost faith and confidence in you, Harry. Always. In times of need, rely on those who care for you the most: Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, and Miss Weasley. Their affection for you is boundless. Don't turn away from them.
I recall a day, seven years ago, when you had discovered the Mirror of Erised. I asked you not to dwell on dreams so much that you would forget to live. Again, I ask that of you now. You will succeed at life, if you follow your heart. Your time has come, Harry, and I have never doubted that you would shine. It's been my privilege to know, instruct and learn from you. I'm so proud of you and know your parents would be too.
Good Luck, Harry Potter,
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore
The letter was dated 19 June, 1998—on the eve of the final battle. Harry shut his eyes tightly, convincing himself that tears would not bring Dumbledore back. The letter was welcome but not what Harry had expected. "Thank you," Harry whispered aloud, fingering at another one of the scrolls.
"Open it, Harry!" Hermione said excitedly, not trying very hard to contain herself despite the sombre mood.
He paused for a moment in consideration. There was only one thing that would make Hermione act this way. Harry forced open the scroll and took a glance—his N.E.W.T. results.
"C'mon, mate, what'd ya get? Hermione and I have debated this for five years." Both Ron and Hermione's eyes were wide with anticipation.
Harry smirked; some things never changed. The N.E.W.T. exams had been five years ago, but to Harry it seemed as if it had been only yesterday. He could recall sitting for the written exams, his scar prickling uncomfortably. He'd looked over at Ron making aghast faces at the difficulty of the exam questions, and at Hermione a few seats ahead and to his left, scrawling furiously. Even at the time, Harry had known that there were more important things in this world, things you couldn't learn from books. Harry knew these things were on his horizon, and his moment with Voldemort was drawing near.
"Well?" Hermione's voice brought him back to the present, which had been difficult since the arrival of his old school friends for their visit.
He was quiet as he stared down at the paper. He recalled that he hadn't had much time to study for his N.E.W.T.S, as there were more important things he was facing. He'd spent much of his time practicing Occlumency, Stunning Spells, and Unforgivable Spells, as those were much more critical. The fact that he hadn't studied as much as he would have liked made his results even more surprising.
"All 'O's' and 'E's'," Harry said quietly under his breath. Announcing one's grades in front of ten people was a little embarrassing. "All except for an 'A' in the written Potions test. I never expected to do this well. Not bad, eh?"
"Not bad? Not bad?" Ron asked. "Mate, that's awesome."
"You walloped my arse," Seamus admitted, looking sideways at McGonagall. "Sorry, Professor," he added remorsefully.
"Well, we all did rather well in Defense," Lavender admitted proudly.
"And more importantly, we all stayed alive, thanks to the D.A., Harry," Neville added.
Harry was proud, maybe prouder than he'd ever been. "You shouldn't be thanking me. All I did was teach you the spells and incantations. You put it all into to practice. You saved yourselves."
"Don't be so modest, Harry. You're a hero," Dean contradicted.
This one statement had always bothered Harry. He hadn't chosen his fate; he'd been forced into it. Furthermore, he hadn't done anything that anyone else wouldn't have done if it had rested on his or her shoulders.
"Each person in this room has suffered, and dozens more who aren't with us anymore: my parents, Sirius Black, Dumbledore, and Hagrid. More than I care to count."
The room was shrouded in silence for several moments before Ginny spoke.
"Open the last scroll, Harry."
Harry magicked open the last roll of paper and smoothed it out. The parchment was thick and Harry could feel two separate pieces.
The calligraphy on the parchment was exquisite, with black filigree and curls.
The guests all looked at Harry expectantly, waiting for him to say something… anything.
"Is everything all right, Harry?" Ginny's voice was soft and anxious as she unconsciously moved closer to where Harry stood.
"It's OK, Gin," Harry replied. "It's, er…" He thrust the papers into Ginny's hands with a scowl. He scanned the faces in the room before turning his back on them.
Harry smoothed his hand over his mouth and chin, feeling the stubble grazing his palm as Ginny made the announcement.
"Harry, you've received Order of Merlin, First Class! Congratulations!"
Ginny threw her arms around him as the crowd regarded him once again.
His voice was vague and empty as he continued to stare down at the parchment, unsure of what he should be feeling. They were useless now, weren't they? Just like his pardoning was. He held them loosely in his hands and finally reached out for Ginny. He wrapped his arms around her, catching her rather off guard.
The faces in the room stared openly at the duo—their arms circled around each other in comfort.
Ginny hushed him, whispering quietly into his onyx coloured hair. She didn't care if the whole room knew her secrets. Harry needed her.
Harry pulled himself together and spent the rest of his afternoon catching up with his fellow Gryffindors.
Seamus and Lavender had been married three years previously, but had no children, yet. Seamus worked for the Ministry while Lavender co-owned a shop in Diagon Alley with Parvati. They sold Divination supplies such as crystal balls, Tarot cards, tealeaves from India, astrological equipment, and Zodiac charts. They also read palms. Seamus and Lavender were an odd couple, at best, but seemed very happy.
Parvati was not married but dating Sanjay, a Wizard who had just moved to England to work at the Ministry from India. She spent most of her time running The Gypsy's Wagon, the shop she and Lavender owned.
Neville was Hogwarts' new Herbology Professor and did independent research on the effects of healing herbs. Neville had changed so much from the first day Harry met him. He had grown up. Neville was engaged to Luna Lovegood, of all people, who was on an assignment at the moment with The Quibbler.
Harry thought Dean had been rather vague about his accomplishments since Hogwarts. Dean was working in Muggle Relations. He didn't include any other pieces of personal information, and so Harry left things alone. He seemed happy although a little removed and distracted, but content, and to Harry, that was all that mattered. Dean had always been a good mate.
Professor McGonagall shared some memories of the group and some thoughts on the current Gryffindors and Quidditch prospects for the upcoming year.
Neville then turned pointedly to Harry, "What will you do now, Harry? Have you thought about your future?"
Harry sighed and turned away from the little window bathing him in sunlight. "Actually, I think I'd like to just move ahead and settle down." He noticed a few strange glances but didn't think much of them. He had never discussed the possibility of his future or family before the end of the war. He blushed; he was discussing two subjects that were uncomfortable for him. "I have enough money to wait a while and decide on a proper career. I've never had my own family. I'd like that—to settle down."
"With whom?" Neville wondered aloud.
The room went silent as poor Neville gathered ostentatious glares. Harry shrugged it off; that was Neville for you: naïve. The answer seemed obvious to Harry.
"I have someone in mind."
It was nearing the dinner hour and Headmistress McGonagall used the time as an excuse to evacuate the room before any more mistakes could be made.
Hermione cleared her throat to speak before everyone left, "I know that you all were at our wedding, except Harry, obviously. And, well, Ron and I decided that day that when Harry awoke, we'd renew our vows. We've chosen 1st September—the day that Ron, Harry, and I met. It's been one of the most special dates in our lives."
Ron nodded and blushed a bright shade of red, smiling at Hermione as she continued, The twins will have been born, and Harry will be well by then. You'll be receiving owls mid-summer, but we wanted to give you all a little notice."
Lavender and Parvati exclaimed with 'oohs' and 'ahhs', jumping up and down while fanning their arms. Seamus, Neville, Dean, and Harry congratulated Ron, while McGonagall and Ginny looked fixedly at one another.
Ginny finally saw Harry yawn and pointed explicitly to his bed. "I'll see your guests out, Harry. You, get some rest."
Harry shuffled over to the bed, pulled the covers back, and flopped down. "I can't thank you all enough for visiting today. It really means a lot to me, especially to know Ginny had your support."
Ginny felt her face burning as Harry hugged his fellow students and even the Headmistress goodbye. Hermione and Ron stayed in the room as Ginny saw the others outside.
Ginny made sure the door was closed and glanced around the small circle of people gazing intently at her. She scuffed her foot against the tile floor.
"Thank you for not mentioning Dean's and my engagement. Harry is still so fragile, he has a hard time realizing that five years have passed without him."
She looked around the circle again, her eyes pausing briefly at each face, trying to read their thoughts, and finally she stopped at Dean's. His head was down and his hands were thrust into his pockets.
"It will help him to have seen you all," she added as an afterthought.
Seamus rolled his eyes, which prompted an elbow to the ribs by Lavender. Parvati stifled a giggle. Neville apologized profusely for his slip up. Ginny couldn't help but think she'd have to do some damage control.
Ginny watched Seamus, Lavender, Parvati, and Neville walk down the corridor away from Harry's room. Their heads were all leaning into one another's, and it appeared that they were already gossiping maliciously. She wanted to scream. She wanted to holler so loud that it would echo off the white, portrait-covered walls.
What should she have done? Left him alone right from the very beginning? What would any of them done?
Dean's soft, hollow voice brought her back, "Ginny, I've got to get back to work."
Her mouth suddenly dropped open as she turned around to face him. She closed the distance between them and buried her face in his chest.
"Dean, I'm so sorry. I can't even imagine how hard that must've been for you. You're wonderful for even being here."
The woodsy scent of his cologne settled her emotions, while he slipped an awkward arm around Ginny's waist and patted the small of her back.
Dean took Ginny's shoulders in his hands and held her away at arm's length. "I understand that Harry needs time to recover, but the only way we'll get through this, Ginny, is if we love each other." His voice was grave, and his eyes were steeled.
Ginny knew he was lying about Harry. Chivalrously lying, but lying all the same. She put her hands on either side of his face and drew her thumbs across his chiselled jaw. "I do, I do; you know I do. Please know that I do love you." Tears crested over her brown eyes and spilled onto her cheeks. She looked alarmed and anxious.
"I've got to go." Dean sounded like a ghost, and his normally dark, warm eyes clouded over. He leaned down and pressed an all too brief kiss on Ginny's lips. "We'll talk tonight."
He nodded twice and set off toward the Apparition Point.
It was only then that Ginny realized Minerva McGonagall was still there.
"Professor!" Ginny gasped, clutching her chest. The woman's looming presence startled her nearly half to death.
McGonagall's hat cast a faint shadow over her narrow face, but Ginny could still see the light-lipped frown. "It was, um, good of you to come by today, Prof… "
A finger was suddenly being wagged in Ginny's face. "I agreed to keep your secret for one reason," McGonagall began sharply, as little lines formed around her squinted eyes. She pointed at Harry's door with her free hand, keeping her other one about two inches from Ginny's nose. "And that's because I want the best for that young man in there."
The Headmistress dropped her hands and began pacing in front of Harry's door, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Ginny was suddenly glad that the corridor was empty.
"Ginny…"
Ginny was completely taken aback at the forthrightness of such a reserved woman.
"I'm not as naïve as one may think. I know what was going on in that room when I interrupted. I don't begrudge you a life, Miss Weasley, but—"
McGonagall could see by Ginny's reaction that this was an area of personal struggle.
"Professor, I still love Harry. I probably will until the day I die. It's not a game I'm playing here. I love Dean, too. He's been nothing but perfect to me. He's been the beacon in all this darkness," her voice faded off. "I just can't tell Harry, yet."
McGonagall's jaw was clenched firmly. "He loves you, Ginny," she hissed, folding her arms across her chest. "We've all been lenient where Potter was concerned, our whole community, his whole life. I'm not asking you to abandon the more recent plans you've made with Mr. Thomas, but to follow your destiny, Ginny. Listen to an old lady's advice, and learn from her mistakes!"
She paused briefly for Ginny to consider her words. McGonagall had been in love? Ginny had never really though about it before, but it did make sense. Why wouldn't she have been, at least once in her life?
The woman's stern voice began to quaver as her beady eyes shifted toward Ginny once again, "At this point it's unavoidable not to break his heart, but Merlin help you, if you drag him along and then crush all his hopes and dreams."
Ginny lifted her downcast head to meet McGonagall's eyes, where she could have sworn that she had seen her wipe away a single tear.
A horrible, awkward silence filled the corridor as Ginny's head drooped again. She would not cry—not here, not now. She opened her mouth to speak, but her courage failed her. She swallowed with difficulty, and when her voice resurfaced, it was barely above a whisper.
"I'm afraid to let go."
"Of Dean or Harry?"
Ginny didn't answer, for her mother had just turned the corner and was approaching with a smile.
McGonagall leaned in closer and spoke in a hushed tone, "You get yourself together, Miss Weasley. You're not playing around with just any Wizard's heart. Good day."
Minerva McGonagall strode away in the direction of Mrs. Weasley, leaving Ginny standing in a stunned wake behind her. The Headmistress spoke briefly with Mrs. Weasley before continuing on her way.
Molly reached the place where her daughter stood outside Harry's door. "Good of her to visit—bit short tempered today, though," Molly said cheerfully.
Ginny nodded. "Dean and the others only just left."
Molly began to speak, but Ginny presumptively cut her mother off. "Not today, Mum. What's the smile for, anyway?"
Molly relented. "I've spoken with the Healers. Harry can come home tomorrow."
"Tomorrow? To the Burrow?" Ginny's face showed the surprise she felt, the surprise that froze her to the spot.
Molly looked at her as if she had Blast Ended Screwts coming out of her ears. "Of course, Ginny, where else has he to go?"
Ginny shook her head back and forth and closed her eyes. Am I stupid? Of course, he's coming home to the Burrow! "I'll just go and tell him, then. He'll be thrilled." Her voice was airy and empty. When she reached for the doorknob, her mother said her name.
"Ginny, it's time to tell Harry."
Molly reached out and laid a gentle hand on Ginny's, which still rested on the doorknob.
Ginny heard the words but chose not to listen. "I'll just go in and tell Harry the good news."
Ginny put on a smile and entered the room, followed by Mrs. Weasley.
This wasn't the first time Harry had thought about this. First and foremost, he had no home. He had merely existed with the Dursleys, his only blood relatives, for 18 years, but his home was Hogwarts—which was no longer an option. Remus lived at Grimmauld Place, and Harry knew the werewolf would welcome him in an instant, but Harry wasn't sure if he could go back to that house. Staying with the Weasleys had always been wonderful, but he could hardly spend the rest of his life there.
Harry realized he'd lived in a protective cocoon while at St. Mungo's. Only selected visitors were permitted, which meant no reporters buzzing around, and he didn't have to associate with a society at large that thought of him as a hero. Here in the safety of this sterile, white room, no one stared at his scar, asked for an autograph, took a picture, or followed him anywhere. Going home was a scary prospect.
All he had wanted, since he had been 16 or 17 years old, was Ginny. Trying to start a new life with Ginny was the only thing he could imagine.
"You'll be coming home, Harry dear, to the Burrow. It's your home for as long as you want it," Molly began, stepping between Ginny and Harry, who was resting on the bed. "Arthur and I will not take 'no' for an answer. You can have Ron's old room or, if you'd rather, Ginny's old room," Molly declared, pressing down on Harry's head, trying, with no luck, to flatten his hair.
The realization struck him bizarrely. "Old room," he snorted airily through his nose, glancing over at Ron and Ginny. "It hadn't really occurred to me that you wouldn't be there."
Harry looked down, not wanting to see the evidentiary looks mixed with guilt on their faces. "It's OK," he lied, pulling his knees up to his chest. "It's just going to take me some time to get used to the last five years. Mrs. Weasley, thank you, I'd like to stay at the Burrow very much."
The room was too quiet.
Harry was supposed to be sleeping, but his mind was distracted. He'd had an utterly restless night, filed with nightmares and flashbacks. Unable to lie in bed a moment longer, he put on his wrapper and left the room. After a stop at the Healer's station at the end of the hall, he just began walking.
There were so many things he'd need to do. Most important was to buy a new wand. His had literally been vaporized, along with Voldemort, at the final battle. Maybe he could stop tomorrow or the next day at Ollivander's. Yes, a wand was in immediate 'must'.
Clothes were next. Harry assumed that most of his apparel was either out of style or didn't fit anymore. He'd have to make another stop at Madame Malkin's, he guessed.
Harry turned left and proceeded aimlessly down another hallway. The hospital was silent, and he appreciated it. Occasionally he'd see a nurse or Healer who would look him over sceptically. He found himself near the stairwell and decided to go down a flight or two.
He might need to renew his Apparition license; maybe he couldn't Apparate anymore and would need to practice all over again.
At Hogwarts, he had signed up for Auror training and was accepted, pending that his N.E.W.T.S. were satisfactory. Did that offer still stand? With Voldemort and his Death Eaters rounded up, was there even a need for Aurors? Harry wasn't even sure he wanted to do that anymore. He'd had quite enough fighting evil for a while.
Harry suddenly found himself staring through a long bay of windows with dozens of faces looking back. He'd wandered into the Birthing Ward.
He smiled inwardly as he stood a few inches away from the glass partition, looking down at the tiny faces.
Ginny was right when she'd told me that it was lovely to be with people at the beginning of life, when they are the happiest.
Harry was conscious of the fact that was a little envious of Ron and Hermione… Hermione, always studious, well planned, uptight and strict, was now absolutely beautiful. She seemed relaxed, warm, and free. Even Ron seemed a bit calmer. The two of them had shared something so magical, it hardly seemed possible; they had created a life.
Inspiration… awareness… madness… or whatever it was that awakened people in the middle of the night and didn't let them rest… had struck.
Harry didn't know much about his parent's relationship but he knew they'd married very young and had only been 21 or 22 at the time of their own deaths. They hadn't wasted time in their short lives; they had gone after what they wanted.
He looked from one sleeping infant's face to another, and insight dawned on his face. He wanted exactly what his father had wanted. The one thing he had always wanted. The thing he'd found when he met the Weasleys.
A family.
He smiled profoundly and rested his forehead on the cool glass.
Yes, that was it. Ginny. Ginny had always been it, since the day he'd realized just how special she was: her smile… the way her brown eyes sparkled… her red hair that kindled up images of burning embers and a fiery personality to match… the little freckle that dotted her upper lip… the way she always just seemed to know how other people felt and how she did whatever she could to make them feel better. Merlin only knew; everything about her was perfect.
He couldn't rush foolhardily into this. No, he'd need lots of advice. Ron! Ron had obviously been through all of this, asking for Hermione's hand in marriage.
Yes, Harry contemplated. I'll ask Ron for advice, and, when the time is right, I'll ask Ginny to marry me.