Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione have found and destroyed all the Horcruxes, Harry has subsequently defeated Voldemort, and now there is but one concern on his mind.
Categories: Harry/Ginny Characters: None
Warnings: Book 7 Disregarded
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 1
Completed: Yes
Word count: 2132
Read: 6736
Published: 03/22/08
Updated: 04/06/08
Story Notes:
All of the characters included here {with the exception of the thrush ;o) } were created by J.K. Rowling. I’m just taking them for a spin around the block, I’ll put ‘em back, I promise.
After my daughter (needsomefelixfelicis) and I finished HBP, we had many animated discussions about how we thought the series would end. Prominent in our talks was the character of Snape and whether his actions in the sixth book proved he was evil, and whether Harry would survive after defeating Voldemort. Before DH, I never did manage to come up with a fic about those discussions. As we anxiously-awaited the seventh book, though, one idea kept crowding my thoughts - if Harry *did* live to tell the tale at the end of the series, what would he do first? What would he be most concerned about? This fic grew out of that thought. Please keep in mind that this was written after HBP, but well before DH, so I had flubbed through the actual ending and defeat of Voldemort, of course not having a clue how it would all pan-out. Therefore, in this make-believe version of the end of the series, Voldemort has been defeated but the trio was separated from the Weasleys during the battle and now return to the fold.
The title is taken from the song “Love is a Many Splendoured Thing” by Sammy Fain and Paul Francis Webster.
Dedication - this story is dedicated to my precious Harry Potter fan, my daughter Danielle.
1. A Many Splendoured Thing by cjbaggins
A Many Splendoured Thing by cjbaggins
The young bird, a common thrush, took a few steps out onto the branch. Lifting its wing and tail feathers briefly, it resettled them comfortably, and opened its beak. Before it could welcome the dawn, however, it was unceremoniously blown from its branch by a substantial gust of wind as a figure, hunched low over his broomstick, dove out of the clouds, the ripped hem of his black cloak streaking behind him like his own set of tail feathers. The broom alighted a few feet from the ground and Harry had leapt from it even before it could come to a complete stop. Frantically he scanned, in the dim, early morning light, the Weasleys’ orchard for any signs of life. Seeing no-one he turned at once to the house and strode purposefully, although with a noticeable limp, towards the back door.
The bird, meanwhile, having recovered from its rude dethronement, headed back to its favourite spot. It glanced overhead, searching for other potential interferences before once more stepping out, tentatively, onto the same branch. It had managed no more than three notes of its sun-song, though, before two more broomstick-riding figures dropped from the sky, once more sweeping the poor bird from its perch. The new riders coasted to a somewhat clumsier, but no less anxious, stop next to Harry’s broom.
–Harry, wait!†called Hermione, jumping to the ground and hurrying after her friend’s retreating form, Ron following close behind.
So determined was Harry in reaching the house as quickly as possible, that it was only by breaking into a jog that his friends could catch up with him at all, even with the hobble in his stride.
–Harry...†Hermione said, panting slightly with the exertion of trying to keep up. He ignored her, but she didn’t give up. –Harry, really, I’m sure she’s-â€
Before Hermione could finish her sentence, the back door, twenty yards ahead, banged open and Bill, Fred, George, and Fleur burst from it, all talking excitedly at once, and all surging headlong towards the trio of friends.
Once the Weasleys had surrounded them, Harry barely noticed their jubilant cries, the congratulatory thumps on the back, or the resounding kiss on the cheek that Fleur gave him. Turning to the nearest Weasley, who happened to be Fred, Harry seized him roughly by the shoulders.
–Where is she?†he demanded, vaguely aware that his eyes were burning. –Where is she? Is she all right? Tell me!â€
Fred shrugged off Harry’s hands, not too easily, and frowned. –Who?†he said, puzzled. –Mum?â€
Before Harry could reply he saw her framed in the doorway, her chin quivering, tears streaming unchecked down her cheeks.
–Ginny...†he managed to croak out, hurrying to her. Her face blazing as it had the first time he kissed her, she rushed forward and threw herself into his arms. She squeezed him as tightly as she could and Harry’s bruised and battered body screamed in silent agony, but he didn’t care, there was no where else he wanted to be at that particular moment, no where else he ever wanted to be. But as relief flooded his system, the adrenaline that had sustained him for miles, had gotten him to this point -- to her arms -- started ebbing away and his protesting muscles gave out. His legs shaking uncontrollably, his knees buckled. He held fast to Ginny, though, and they sank to the ground together.
–I thought I’d never see you again...â€
They both pulled away slightly and shared a weak smile as they realized they’d spoken at the same time. Ginny reached up and brushed the usual untidy lock of hair out of Harry’s eyes. Noticing his scar, which was still burning white-hot, she kissed it gently, soothing it more than Harry would have ever thought possible. The tears that had been stinging his eyes welled up dangerously, threatening to spill out over his bottom lids. Not caring, he cupped the sides of her face in his hands and kissed her desperately.
Standing where Harry had left them, Bill, Fred and George gaped, astonished, at the sight.
–Zees is new,†remarked Fleur, casually.
Ron, studiously looking anywhere but at the embracing couple, muttered, –Unfortunately, not new enough.â€
Fred clapped a sympathetic hand on Ron’s shoulder. –Right there with ya, mate.†He stared, transfixed, at the pair, as if they were a particularly gruesome car crash on the motorway.
Bill shook his head bemusedly. –Don’t you think, after all that chap’s been through,†he gestured in Harry’s direction, –that he deserves some happiness?â€
–Not snogging my sister!†chorused Fred and George, hotly.
Ron didn’t speak, but merely moaned in agreement.
–Honestly!†Hermione exclaimed, rolling her eyes, clearly disgusted by their reaction.
Bill chuckled to himself. –Come on, lads,†he said, –while I appreciate the whole brotherly-concern bit, think about it ... no-one’s ever going to be good enough for our little Ginny ... but the man who just saved the entire world, both Wizarding and Muggle, doesn’t he come damn close?â€
Not able to argue with this annoying logic, the three brothers grumbled their half-hearted agreement. Hermione rolled her eyes again and suggested that they leave the couple alone.
–Besides,†she added, –your parents are going to want to know we’re alright, Ron.â€
So, Ron, Fred, George and Hermione trooped towards the house. Fleur lingered a moment, slowing her husband with a hand on his arm.
–I like what you said,†she told him. At his puzzled look she added, –About ‘Arry. About ‘im deserving some ‘appiness because of what ‘e ‘as been through.†She reached up and ran her fingertips lightly over the scarred lines marring his once-handsome face, relics of his bravery in battle. Bill squeezed her hand and she beamed up at him before they followed the others inside.
–Thought they’d never leave,†Ginny whispered against Harry’s lips.
–Who?†Harry asked, with mock innocence. –Was there someone else here?â€
Ginny grinned at his feigned ignorance and quickly closed the gap between them again.
Chattering excitedly, the others tramped into the house with a noise level comparable to a herd of stampeding rhinos.
–Come on, you lot,†Mr. Weasley beseeched them from the sitting room, –could you keep it down to a dull roar? You know your mother’s finally resting.â€
–Sorry, Dad,†chanted the twins. –But you wouldn’t believe what we found in the garden.â€
Mr. Weasley rose reluctantly from his easychair and fixed his mischievous sons with a keen stare. –What is it now?†he sighed, clearly undecided about hearing the reply.
–Oh, a little of this,†Fred replied.
–And a little of that,†added George.
They both moved aside to reveal who was standing behind them.
–Wotcher Dad,†Ron said, with a little wave.
–Hi, Mr. Weasley,†put in Hermione.
Mr. Weasley stood stock still for a full half minute before hurrying to the foyer to clasp them both by the shoulder, his eyes shining brightly.
–Ron! Hermione!†he said, his voice thick with emotion, giving them an extra squeeze. –Wonderful to see you. Wonderful!†Beaming widely, he remarked, –Must tell your mother, Ron.â€
–Tell me what, Arthur?†Mrs. Weasley asked, with a yawn, as she emerged from the back room, clad in a well-worn yet comfortable dressing gown. She shuffled dejectedly into the kitchen.
Fred and George immediately moved to block the surprise arrivals from view once more.
–Hey, Mum,†George said, –checked your clock lately?†He glanced pointedly at the countertop, where the magical clock lay upside down, seemingly forgotten.
Mrs. Weasley shot him a somewhat weary glare. –That’s enough, George,†she said, half-heartedly, slumping into a kitchen chair. –You know full well Ron’s hand hasn’t moved off ‘mortal peril’ for months now.â€
–Yeah?†he said. –All the same... maybe you should give it a look.â€
–Go on, Mum,†Fred urged. –Just a quick one.â€
–Can’t hurt, Mum,†Bill piped up from the doorway.
–Stop it,†she snapped, her eyes flashing. –All of you. That’s just plain cruel, now.â€
–Molly...†Mr. Weasley began, but George had grabbed the clock from the counter and thrust it in front of his mother before his father could say anything else.
Mrs. Weasley looked in spite of herself and her eyes grew wider the longer she stared at the arrow which bore her son’s name and the word to which it pointed.
–Home,†she murmured softly at first, not able to take it in, then louder, the hope rising within her, –home.â€
She stood so abruptly her chair tipped over. No one noticed.
Fred stepped aside just as his mother looked in his direction. Her hands flew to her throat as she caught sight of her youngest son.
–Ron,†she whispered, his name no more than an exhalation. Shocked for but a moment, she had crossed the room and swooped down to engulf him in trembling arms before he knew what was happening. –Ron, Ron, my baby!†she sobbed over and over into his neck, the tears streaming down her cheeks.
Ron tolerated the embrace for a few minutes before attempting to squirm free. –Okay Mum, that’s enough,†he said. When she showed no signs of having heard, he wriggled more vigourously. –Okay, Mum. Geroff, would you?!â€
Reluctantly, Mrs. Weasley disentangled herself from him, only to realize who else was standing in front of her. –Hermione!†she cried, with no less enthusiasm, and descended upon her as well.
When Mrs. Weasley had finally released her hold, she straightened up and took a good, long, appraising look at her son and his girlfriend. –Appallingly thin,†she announced. –Both of you.â€
Ron rolled his eyes. –We’ve only been gone a few months, Mum,†he pointed out.
–Well, that’s as may be,†Mrs. Weasley retorted, –but you still need fattening up. You look like Harry always did when he returned from the Durs-†She broke off abruptly and quickly turned to survey the scene. –Where is he? Where’s Harry?â€
Hearing the panic in their mother’s voice, her boys quickly assured her that he was safe.
–He’s in the garden, Mrs. Weasley,†Hermione added.
–Well, what’s he doing out there? Bring him in!†she demanded, promptly heading towards the door to do just that.
Mr. Weasley, having the best view out the window that looked into the back garden, coughed discreetly and murmured, –Give him a minute, Molly.â€
Her hand already on the doorknob, she spun around and frowned at her husband. –Whatever for, Arthur? It’s been quite chilly in the mornings, the last thing we need is for him to catch his death out there!â€
With that, she turned the handle, opened the door, took one step over the threshold, and stopped dead. The others heard her breathless, –Oh,†before she promptly closed the door again.
–Right then,†she said, briskly, –time for breakfast,†and strode purposefully into the kitchen.
Still outside with Ginny, Harry briefly came up for air. –Was that your mother?†he asked.
–I dunno.â€
Harry shrugged and leaned in to kiss her once more. But Ginny pulled back slightly, placing two fingers against his lips.
–By the way,†she said, with a laugh, her eyes dancing with amusement, –for a bloke who finished with me, you sure have a funny way of showing it!â€
He didn’t laugh with her. Ginny saw the look on his face and quickly added, –I’m just joking...â€
–I know that, but...†A stab of shame sliced through him as he remembered the conversation in which he’d broken it off with her. His eyes were burning again.
–I’m sorry, Ginny,†he said, hanging his head, –I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t- I just couldn’t chance him finding out about you and-" He broke off abruptly, not wanting to put it into words.
–Shhh...†Ginny murmured, brushing his hair out of his eyes again. –It’s alright. Really.â€
–No!†Harry cried, gripping her hand tightly, needing her to understand.
–While Voldemort was alive, I couldn’t risk it, couldn’t risk him hurting you, risk losing you. But when I knew... when I knew he...†He sighed heavily, not sure he was explaining it at all how he wanted. Taking a deep breath, he tried again. –When it was over, when he was gone, when I knew I had a future again? I realized ... the only future that I want ... has you in it.â€
–Oh Harry!†Ginny cried, throwing her arms around him again.
As they began to kiss once more, Harry decided that it was good to be back.
Good to be back home.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.