All the Time in the World.

Harry somehow finds himself at the entrance to the Gryffindor tower with absolutely no recollection of how he came to be there. He was lost in his own mind, covered by the Invisibility Cloak with his newly-fixed wand and the Marauder’s Map clutched in his hand. He’s surprised to find that the Fat Lady is actually in her portrait and not off in one of the other frames like most of the paintings in the castle. He pulls the Cloak off of himself and the Fat Lady smiles at him.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you showed up here,” she says brightly.

“I don’t know the password,” he admits, voicing his sudden realization, but the Fat Lady’s smile doesn’t falter at all.

“You don’t need one, darling,” she tells him. “You did beautifully tonight.”

And with that, the portrait swings open to reveal the common room that Harry had missed so badly the entire past year. It’s almost exactly how he remembers it, untouched by the battle that had destroyed most of the rest of the castle. He figures he can appreciate it more thoroughly later, but at the moment, all he wants to do is sleep. He’s so tired. His last night of sleep seemed ages ago. It was hard to believe that not even twenty-four hours had yet passed since their near escape at Gringotts. It seems days, if not weeks ago. So much has happened since then. Voldemort is dead. As is Fred Weasley, Remus Lupin, Tonks…. None of it seems real yet.

Falling into his old four-poster bed is almost the best sensation in the world. He stretches out his limbs, muscles aching with fatigue, doesn’t even bother to remove his shoes or glasses, and closes his eyes. He had imagined that he would be asleep within seconds, but his mind is racing so fast that he can barely even make out the thoughts or images running through his brain. He kicks off his shoes, takes off his glasses, and covers himself with soft blankets, willing himself into the mindless oblivion of sleep. But nothing happens. He lies there, wondering if he will ever be able to sleep again.

”Quicker and easier than falling asleep.”

Sirius’s words ring out in his mind, clear as day, and he grips onto his pillow, not wanting to think about that, not wanting to think about anything. He considers going down to Madam Pomfrey for some of that dreamless sleep potion that she’d given to him once about a year earlier, but he cancels the plan almost immediately, knowing that there are more people who need Madam Pomfrey’s help right now more than he does. People who are seriously injured. He just can’t fall asleep. It’s nothing compared to some of the others.

So he does what he did during all of those sleepless nights in the tent. He pushes his glasses onto his face and grabs his wand and the Marauder’s Map. Almost immediately, he finds Ginny’s dot, nestled between her mother and Percy in the Great Hall. He stares at it, and she’s so close, finally, at last, but still just out of reach. He wishes that he could call to her, let her know where he is, give her the option of coming to him. An idea strikes him and he sits up rather abruptly, speaking before he’s really thought it through.

“K-Kreacher?” he asks timidly, and right away, there’s a loud cracking noise and the house elf is standing beside his bed, Regulus’s locket still worn proudly around his neck.

“Yes, Master Harry?”

“I…,” Harry starts, and suddenly, the whole idea seems incredibly silly. He’s not going to send an elf after Ginny when her brother has just died and she’d probably much rather be with her family at the moment. Time with Ginny can wait. He knows this. They have all the time in the world now.

“Does Master Harry need something?” Kreacher asks, breaking Harry’s loss for words.

“No. No, Kreacher. I just… I wanted to thank you for… everything. Everything you did for me, Ron, and Hermione at Grimmauld Place and for fighting tonight,” Harry says, and for a moment, Kreacher’s big eyes seem to water up, but then he sinks into a low bow.

“It is Kreacher’s pleasure, sir. Master Regulus would be pleased.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he would be,” Harry agrees with a nod. “That’s all I wanted to say, Kreacher.”

“Would Master Harry like anything from the kitchens, sir?”

“No. Thank you. You can go.”

Another loud crack and Harry is left alone once again. He settles down onto his pillow again, finds Ginny’s dot on the Marauder’s Map and stares at it.

He falls asleep, the map in one hand, his wand in the other. When he opens his eyes again, sunlight is streaming in, and it must be hours later, but Harry is still exhausted. He realizes with a hint of triumph that he did actually fall asleep, though.

“I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Ron mutters above him, and Harry opens his eyes wider to see Ron with both the map and Harry’s wand in his hands, moving them towards Harry’s nightstand. “Go back to sleep, mate.”

He dreams that he’s flying on the back of a dragon while Hermione flies next to him on a broom. It doesn’t even make sense because Hermione is awful with brooms. On his other side, Ron rides on Buckbeak, and the three of them are laughing. Harry, Ron, and Hermione are all in hysterics for no real reason, but they’re flying and they’re laughing, and it’s perfect.

When he wakes again, the dorm room is dark. Harry wonders what time it is, how long he’s been sleeping, if everything that’s happened was all just a dream. Before he can decide if it was all real or not, he’s asleep again.

“He’s sleeping.”

“I’m not going to wake him; I just want to see him.”

“He needs his rest, Ginny. He’s been through a lot.”

“Ron, I know. That’s why I’m not going to wake him.”

“You might do it on accident.”

“Just shut up, please.”

The words barely even register in Harry’s brain. He hears them, but he doesn’t fully understand them, doesn’t care to understand them, but when a waft of subtle, familiar, flowery scent floats past him, he instinctively opens his eyes and raises his head a bit. He sees Ginny, looking the other way as she sits herself down on the floor next to Harry’s bed.

“Ginny,” he says softly, his voice hoarse from being unused. And Ginny turns her head to look at him, her red hair swishing behind her, and she looks at Harry with what he thinks is as much happiness that she can muster at the moment.

“Hi, Harry,” she whispers. This is the exact moment that he’s been waiting for for so long. He doesn’t really know what he’s doing; his mind is clouded by sleep and the ecstasy of finally being around Ginny once again. He scoots over to the side of his bed farthest from Ginny and pats the surface of the vacant spot next to him.

“Lay with me?” he asks, and she simply nods, pulling herself up from the floor, and then she’s beside him, their heads sharing a pillow, inches away from each other, and they both just stare.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” she breathes, and Harry blinks, drinking in her image. She looks older, more mature than he can ever remember, but just as beautiful. Perhaps even more beautiful.

He thinks about all of those nights in the tent he spent thinking about her, worrying about her, watching her on the Marauder’s Map. He thinks about how, even on his darkest days, the blazing image of her was enough to keep him going, to give him a purpose. He thinks about the way he thought of her as Voldemort raised his wand in the forest.

He won’t tell her about all of this. Not now, not all at once, perhaps not ever. He doesn’t need to tell her now. There will be time for it in the future. So much time. For now, he figures he can sum it all up nicely.

“I love you,” he tells her for the first time in his life.

He watches as her eyes well up with tears, and it’s so uncharacteristic for the strongest girl he’s ever known that he almost begins to think that he said the wrong thing, but his panic melts away as she moves closer to him, pressing their bodies together in a tight embrace as a sob wracks through her body.

“I love you, too,” she responds. And that’s all either of them need. He wraps his arms around her and she molds against him, and they sleep.

*

There’s so much to be done and it seems as though nobody knows where to begin. Plans to fix Hogwarts, plans for funerals, plans for memorials, plans for interviews and speeches that Harry would much rather avoid.

Harry sleeps for twenty-two straight house after the battle, the last six with Ginny curled up beside him.

They leave for the Burrow using Floo Powder in Professor McGonagall’s office. Most everyone had left the castle some time during the twenty-two hours that Harry had been asleep, and only a few people remain. It’s the first time coming face to face with the Weasley family after Fred’s death, and Harry can barely even look any of them in the eye. Ginny stands beside him, even though they haven’t spoken much since waking up next to each other. Harry watches as one by one, the Weasleys step into the fireplace and then disappears. He catches a brief glimpse of George’s grief-stricken face just before he vanishes, and there’s a horrible lurch in the pit of his stomach. Once Ginny leaves, Harry is left with Ron, Hermione, and McGonagall.

“You three…,” McGonagall starts, but seems unable to finish. She just looks at them with adoration and fondness, and Harry feels his heart swell with affection towards her.

“Professor,” Hermione says. “I was… I was wondering if… well, if when the school opens again… if it would be possible to come back and… and the complete seventh year?”

“Yes. Yes, of course, Miss Granger. I would be very pleased to have you back and for you to finish your education here.”

Hermione is the first to leave, and then Ron, and then Harry turns towards McGonagall.

“Professor, I,” he begins, but realizes that he doesn’t even know what to say. She somehow understands, though, and moves towards him to envelope him in a tight hug. Under normal circumstances, it might have felt weird, but the circumstances were anything by normal and it seemed perfectly natural to be hugging his professor.

“Go on now, Potter,” she tells him, sounding a bit choked up. Harry obeys and in no time at all, he’s at the Burrow.

*

George locks himself in his bedroom and barely emerges. Nobody asks any questions. Molly cleans and cooks with a frenzy and only cries when she thinks she’s alone. Arthur and Percy work constantly, but Percy always comes home to the Burrow. Harry and Ginny don’t speak much. It’s as if their declarations of love happened in a far off land a long, long time ago. It’s all furtive glances and quick brushes of hands. They’ll get around to discussing things later. They both know they will.

The day that they had returned to the Burrow, Hermione spoke briefly of returning to school while Ron dismissed the idea.

“But what about N.E.W.T.s, Ron? What are you going to do?”

“Dad reckons that Kingsley’s thinking about letting those who fought to enter Auror training even without N.E.W.T.s.”

“What do you think, Harry?” Hermione has asked him.

“Dunno,” he shrugged, wondering if it would really be possible to become an Auror without returning to Hogwarts. The truth was, he hadn’t thought about it at all. The past year had been all about Horcruxes and defeating Voldemort that he didn’t consider his life after Voldemort. He’d never wanted to consider it when his future was clouded by Voldemort and he never saw a way around that.

“Of course,” Hermione had continued, “I think my first order of business is to find my parents and fix their memories.”

“I’ll go with you,” Ron assured her, grabbing her hand, and she smiled softly at him.

“Thank you, Ron. And Harry? What about you?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. He figured that Ron and Hermione could use the time by themselves, and besides, he felt like he had other priorities that he needed to tend to. “No, I think I’ll stay here. I… I think I’d like to meet my godson. And spend some time with him.”

And so, while Ron and Hermione make their plans to travel to Australia, setting to depart the day after the final funeral, Harry arranges to pay a visit to Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin.

He goes two days after their return to the Burrow, and when he arrives, Andromeda greets him with a smile. A real, genuine smile, even though she’s lost everyone except for her grandson.

“Teddy’s sleeping,” she tells him. “Come and have some tea, though.”

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had all offered to go with him, but Harry wanted to go alone. He felt as though he needed to go alone.

She serves him tea and they sit and they speak, and Harry tells her how sorry he is for the loss of her husband and daughter.

“It’s hard,” she admits, “But we still have Teddy, and that’s all that matters. Sadly, he’ll never know his parents, but he can grow up in a world free of the hate and destruction that would have been if… if it hadn’t been stopped.”

“May I see him?” Harry asks, setting his tea down.

“Yes, of course. His room is just down the hall, dear. First door on the left.”

When Harry walks into the room, he’s not entirely sure what to expect. He thinks that maybe seeing the child of Remus and Tonks will be too much to handle, but when he peers into the cot against the wall, he just sees a baby with bright blue hair sleeping peacefully. He can’t even point out any physical traits that remind him of either of the child’s parents. But he stands there and stares at the last remaining traces of Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks.

*

“I held him. I’d never held a baby before,” Harry tells Ginny later that same evening as he helps her out in the garden. With Molly’s plan to have Fred’s funeral at the Burrow in only a few days, there was much to be done. Although, unlike with Bill and Fleur’s wedding, Mrs. Weasley wasn’t handing out orders; everyone was just chipping in wherever they could without being asked.

“That’s lovely, Harry,” Ginny replies, reaching out to grab a gnome, but not fast enough, and cursing as it runs away.

“I think he’ll be alright. It’s not easy growing up without your parents, but I think Teddy will be okay.”

“He’s lucky,” Ginny says, looking straight at Harry. “To have you as a godfather, I mean. You know what it’s like. You’ll know how to make it better.”

“No, I won’t. But I think I’ll know how to try.”

“That’s what counts.”

Harry doesn’t realize that he’s slowly moving closer to Ginny until he’s right beside her, looking into her eyes. He wants to reach out and touch her, but something inside of him seems to stop him. It doesn’t feel like the right time. Not now. Not yet.

“Harry,” she mutters.

“Yeah.”

“I should…go help Mum with dinner.”

“Er. Yeah. Right. Probably.”

“Okay. See you later.”

Harry stands there and watches her walk away, her hair gleaming in the setting sun. He wonders momentarily if things will ever feel normal again, but then he’s struck with the thought that maybe he’s never really known normal to begin with.

*

The next time Harry sees Teddy is at Tonks and Lupin’s funeral. Andromeda lets Harry hold him throughout most of the service, and he finds that he really enjoys holding his godson.

Harry receives a letter from Dennis Creevey inviting him to stop by Colin’s funeral, and even through his feelings of obligation, he senses a desire to pay his respects to the boy who had always admired him so much. The boy who had admired him enough to give his life.

Fred’s is the last of the slew of funerals that Harry is obliged to attend. The morning of it, Harry wakes up just as the sun starts to rise with a feeling of something like anxiety pressing on his chest. Ron is still asleep and snoring and Harry gives up on going back to sleep after only a few moments of trying. He goes downstairs with the intention of making himself a cup of tea and then going back to Ron’s room to busy himself with something until Ron wakes up.

But when he goes into the kitchen, he’s startled to see that he’s not the first one awake. He finds Molly sitting at the kitchen table and she jumps a bit when she notices him.

“Harry, dear, you startled me,” she says in a soft voice, and she quickly wipes her hands over her cheeks and under her eyes and Harry immediately understands that he’s not the only one having issues with sleep.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, it’s fine. Tea?” she offers, and he nods, so she flicks her wand and a cup of tea zooms over from the counter onto the table. Harry sits down and grabs his tea, avoiding looking at Molly.

During the period of time when Percy hadn’t been speaking to his family, Molly had been very open about her feelings, bursting into tears at any given moment. But with Fred’s death, she seemed so much more closed off. She didn’t cry in front of her children, she didn’t hand out orders or chores, and she rarely smiles. It was different and almost a little bit scary, as if she had been hardened from the battle and from losing her son.

Harry feels responsible. Of course he feels responsible. He feels as though he was the cause for every bad thing that had happened because of his fight against Voldemort. Nobody blamed him out loud, but he can’t help but wonder how many people, in the back of their minds, agreed with him that it was his fault. The idea is unsettling and he tries to ignore it, but it’s hard to push it away completely.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry says, looking up from his cup of tea at her. “I… I don’t think I’ve gotten a chance to tell you how sorry I am. About Fred and…everything else.”

“Thank you, dear,” she responds with a tiny, sad smile. “But you needn’t be sorry about anything, Harry. You’ve saved us all from so much. I don’t think anybody will ever really know how you did it. So young… and stopping someone nobody else could.”

“It sounds a lot better than it really is,” Harry mutters.

“You’re modest, Harry,” Molly says, but Harry shakes his head.

“I’m not. It’s not modesty, it’s the truth. Sure, I stopped him, but all those people that died at Hogwarts wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t been there,” he spills, and he’s not sure what’s causing him to say so much, and even worse, he doesn’t know why his eyes are suddenly filling with hot tears. His eyes burn as he tries his hardest to keep from crying.

“Now, you listen to me, Harry,” Molly says, a hint of sternness in her voice as she reaches across the table to place her hand over his. “Nobody is going to blame you for anything that happened, and you shouldn’t be blaming yourself, either. You’re the hero here. You didn’t cause any of the deaths that happened that night. Voldemort did. Voldemort and his followers. He killed them all and you stopped him from killing anyone else. You saved us.”

Unconvinced, Harry glances away, blinking rapidly, eyes still threatening to spill for some reason that Harry can’t figure out. He hasn’t cried since the battle happened, so why now?

“You’ll see it eventually, I’m sure you will. But you’ve been through so much, it must be difficult.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry mumbles, still looking away from Molly.

“The happiness will come eventually,” she tells him. “After the grief passes. The only think aside from that that most of us are feeling is relief that it’s over. But we’ll be happy again eventually.”

“Nothing will ever be the same.”

“No. It won’t. But we’ll adjust.”

“Will it ever stop hurting like this?” he asks, finally looking back at her, and he doesn’t know what’s causing him to ask a question that seems almost too personal, but it’s out of his mouth before he even thinks about it.

“No, I don’t think it will,” she answers. “Not completely.”

“It still hurts when I think about Sirius. Or…,” he trails off, thinking about everyone he’s lost and how fresh the pain is the minute any one of them crosses his mind. Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, Fred, even Hedwig. Even the thought of Snape, whom he had loathed up until he had already died, put an uncomfortable pressure on his chest.

He’s too busy staring off into space that he doesn’t even notice Molly standing up from her chair and coming over to him, so he’s surprised when he feels her arms wrapping around him, pulling him into a hug. He’s even more surprised when the gesture somehow manages to push his emotions to a breaking point and he lets out an anguished sob that sounds like it came from someone else entirely. He can hardly even believe that the pained noises that he’s hearing are coming from his own mouth as he cries and as Mrs. Weasley holds onto him, letting him cry. And he holds onto her, too, grasping onto the closest thing he’s had to a mother since his own mum died.

The sun fully comes up not after long and Harry’s sobs finally fade out, and as the overwhelming surge of emotions die down, he starts to feel slightly foolish for his outburst.

“I…,” he mumbles, pulling away from Molly awkwardly. He notices that her eyes are red and freshly wet, but she smiles gently at him.

“Thank you,” he finally tells her.

“Of course, dear.”

*

Fred’s funeral brings a lot of familiar faces to the Burrow. Harry says hello to Neville, Luna, Lee Jordan, Oliver Wood, Angelina Johnson, Katie Bell, and Alicia Spinnet amongst others.

George sits stony-faced between Lee and Angelina while Ron sits between Harry and Hermione, his hand being held by Hermione’s the entire time. Ginny sits on the other side of Harry and midway through the service, she slips her hand into Harry’s and he gives it a gentle squeeze and doesn’t let go.

*

“I rather liked Fred,” Luna says after the service is over. “I didn’t know him well, but he was very funny.”

“Yeah, he was,” Ginny nods with a tiny smile.

“How’s George been?” Neville asks.

“Not so great,” Ron answers with a frown. “Hasn’t said much at all.”

“Poor George,” Luna frowns. “It’s like he’s lost a part of himself.”

Harry glances over at where George is, still sitting in the seat he was in for the service, staring at Fred’s coffin. Lee and Angelina are still beside him and they seem to be speaking to George, patting him on the back, perhaps coaxing him to move, but he sits completely still. Harry’s heart seems to ache for him, the sight of his mourning almost too much to take in.

And even though his conversation with Mrs. Weasley early that morning had made him feel a little bit better, seeing George in that condition freshens the feeling of responsibility for Fred’s death. He stands up and Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Luna, and Neville all look at him.

“I’ll be right back,” he tells them, and then turns away and begins walking, not even sure where he’s going. He ends up a far distance away from his group of friends and everyone else before he falls down onto the grass below him and stares straight ahead at the scenery of vast countryside. He rips a few blades of grass up from the ground and idly twists them around in his fingers as he thinks about Fred. Fred and George, who, like Luna said, has lost a part of himself. His twin, his brother, his best friend. Together, they were the two most energetic and seemingly always happy people that Harry had ever met. And now one is lifeless in a coffin while the other is barely moving beside it.

“Were you not having fun with all of us over there?” Ginny asks, plopping down on the grass next to Harry. He looks over at her and she looks at him with an expression that he can’t quite read.

“Sorry, I’m….”

“Secluding yourself?” she supplies with a raise of her eyebrows.

“I guess so,” he shrugs.

“Why? Is it because you’re blaming yourself for something you’re not responsible for? Because you tend to do that when these things happen.”

“You can’t understand,” Harry mutters, looking away from Ginny and squinting a bit in the sunlight.

“Can’t I? Don’t you remember when I put the whole school in danger and caused several people to be petrified?”

“Ginny, that wasn’t your fault. That was Voldemort—”

“Exactly. Voldemort killed my brother. Not you. Technically, it was an explosion.”

“I know. I was there,” he reminds her.

“So you should know that you did nothing to cause it,” she says, and Harry opens his mouth to speak, but Ginny cuts him off before he can even begin. “Don’t argue with me. And stop making this all about you anyways. Your nobility is usually admirable, but right now, it’s bloody annoying. I love you, Harry, but you’re acting like a fool.”

And with that, she stands up and turns back towards the direction that she came from.

“We’d love for you to rejoin us. When you’re ready,” she adds, beginning to walk away.

“Ginny?” he calls out after her, and she pauses, turning back to him.

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Everything,” he says with a quick shrug, and to his surprise, Ginny smiles and takes a few steps in his direction.

“Come on,” she says, holding her hand out for him. “We can go back together.”

*

Hermione and Ron leave for Australia the day after Fred’s funeral. Harry spends time with Teddy and it feels so odd to have so much time for anything that he wants, but he welcomes the feeling of infinity.

The afternoon that Ginny comes with Harry to visit Teddy is one of the best afternoons that Harry can remember having in a long time. It’s not even anything special. They simply agree to watch Teddy for a few hours while Andromeda runs errands. Harry shoots various coloured lights and sparks from his wand and Teddy squeals and gurgles with delight as Ginny holds him, and Harry and Ginny both laugh at the baby’s amusement. Teddy ends up falling asleep in Harry’s arms as he feeds him from a bottle.

“I’ve never really been a baby person,” Ginny says softly as she peers over Harry’s shoulder at Teddy. “I’ve never seen the appeal. But… he’s pretty amazing, isn’t he?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

“You’re pretty amazing, too,” she says, and she smiles when Harry looks over at her. He wants to say something in return, but before he gets the chance, Ginny dives in and plants a small, soft kiss on his cheek.

“What was that for?” he asks her.

“Oh, nothing,” she shrugs with the same smile.

*

Hermione and Ron return from Australia with high spirits and smiles on their faces. Ginny makes lewd jokes under her breath and Harry has to glare at her several times to make her stop. He doesn’t want to think about his best friends in that way even if Ginny’s jokes are incredibly funny.

By the end of their first night back, Ron and Hermione let everyone know that they’re officially together. Nobody seems surprised.

“Nothing’s really gonna change,” Ron tells Harry later while the three of them are alone. “Hermione and I will just be snogging more often.”

“No we won’t,” Hermione interjects, and Ron looks over at her.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m not just going to start snogging you whenever I feel like it when—”

“You had no problem with that in—”

“When Harry is around, Ron. Or anyone else.”

“You’re right, Ron,” Harry says. “Not much is gonna change at all. So far, everything seems exactly the same.”

“Anyways, Harry,” Hermione says. “What have you been doing since we’ve been gone?”

“Nothing, really. Enjoying having all the time in the world for the first time in as long as I can remember.”

*

Harry’s eighteenth birthday brings with it an article in the Daily Prophet announcing that it’s his birthday and a delightful meal and cake made by Mrs. Weasley.

“You should probably be thankful that nobody knows where you’ve been staying, otherwise you’d probably have like, a thousand cards and gifts from people you don’t even know,” Ron laughs as he reads the Daily Prophet article.

“I’m surprised that they didn’t just declare it National Harry Potter Day,” Bill says with a chuckle, standing behind Ron, reading the paper over his shoulder.

“Yes, it’s all very hilarious,” Harry says dryly.

“Oh, so the world loves you. Can you blame them?” Ginny smiles.

“Did any of you bother to read any other part of the Prophet today?” Hermione asks them.

“No, this Harry article is just too funny to not keep rereading,” Ron answers.

“Well, there’s a bit in there about Hogwarts. They’re going to have it opened again almost in time for the new term. Just two weeks later than usual,” she announces.

“Really?” Ginny asks. “Have they fixed it all already?”

“It won’t all be fixed, but certain parts will be off-limits while they continue to repair it while classes are in session.”

“That’s great and all, but I’m still not going back, Hermione,” Ron declares.

“But Ron—”

“Hermione,” Ron starts, and Harry, Ginny, and Bill all just glance at each other as Ron and Hermione start to bicker.

“Oh, look, it’s Fleur,” Bill mumbles, walking out of the kitchen as fast as he can.

“Fancy a walk?” Ginny suggests.

“Sounds great,” Harry nods, and then they stand from their chairs and leave the happy couple to argue in peace.

“So,” Ginny says once they’re outside, walking around the yard. “We both now know what Ron and Hermione each plan to do about school… do you know what you’re doing yet?”

“No,” Harry answers, shaking his head. “Not exactly, anyways. But I’m not going back to Hogwarts.”

“I expected as much. Can you even imagine how it would be if you went back? How people would act around you?”

“I think it’ll probably be that way no matter where I go.”

“At least for the next fifty years or so. Maybe you should stay in hiding until your sixty-eighth birthday.”

“I’ve done enough hiding in the past year. I think I’d rather brave the madness,” Harry laughs.

“Speaking of the past year… do you remember your birthday last year?” Ginny asks him, looking over at him as they continue to walk.

“Of course I do.”

“Well, I got you a real gift this year.”

“That’s a shame. I rather liked last year’s gift.”

“Good, because I’ve been waiting a whole year to do that again,” she says, and in barely a split second, they both stop walking and turn towards each other, and then they’re kissing with the ferocity of having waited an entire year since their last kiss that got interrupted. But this time, there are no interruptions. There’s no Ron walking in on them and there’s no reason to hold back; no danger or shadows or life-threatening obligations in the way. Just them in that moment is the only important thing in the world. Time seems to disappear completely. It could be standing still or speeding past them and they wouldn’t know the difference either way, and if they did, it wouldn’t matter.

When they break apart, Ginny smiles at him and reaches down to slip her hand into his, and wordlessly, hand-in-hand, they walk back towards the house.

Their hands fall apart as they go inside and they’re met by Ron and Hermione sitting close together at the kitchen table, apparently having resolved their conflict. George is sitting at the table, too, looking at the Daily Prophet with the closest thing to a smile that anyone’s seen on his face in a long time. And next to George is Bill, looking straight at Ginny and Harry with an odd expression on his face.

“Hey, you two,” he says, standing up from his chair. “Can I see you both for a second in the living room?”

Harry glances at Ginny who looks just as confused as he does, and then he looks over to Ron who shrugs, but they follow Bill into the living room anyways. Once they’re alone, Bill turns and looks at them.

“What the hell was that outside?” he asks, looking expectantly at Harry and Ginny.

“Er,” Harry stammers, not sure how to respond. Bill has always been incredibly nice to him, but he’s suddenly getting the feeling that he might not be too friendly when it comes to being a protective older brother.

“What are you talking about?” Ginny asks him, completely calm.

“I’m talking about the two of you going off and kissing. I go outside to do something for Mum and that’s what I see? What’s the big idea?”

“We were just kissing, Bill. It’s not a big deal,” Ginny says, folding her arms over her chest.

“Not a big deal? You’re my little sister. It is a big deal.”

“Oh, come off it. It’s not like it’s the first time it’s happened and you’re not the first one to know, either.”

“It’s not the first time it’s happened?” Bill repeats, shooting a glare in Harry’s direction while he just stands there silently.

“No, definitely not. In fact, Harry was my boyfriend for a period of time about a year and a half ago. We did quite a bit of snogging then. Ron knows, Mum knows, they’re both okay with it, so you should be, too.”

“Well, I’m not. Considering that I had no idea of any of this. You just decided to keep it a secret for a year and a half, then?”

“No. It wasn’t kept a secret, it was just never brought up. We ended things before we came home from school last year and it seemed pointless to discuss it after that.”

“Okay, well,” Bill says, pacing back and forth in front of them with his arms crossed. “If you ended it, then what are you doing going around and kissing each other now? Who broke it off with who?”

“I did,” Harry says, speaking for the first time in the conversation and immediately wishing he hadn’t with the way Bill turns on him, glaring at him.

“So, if you broke up with my sister over a year ago, why would you think that it would be okay for you to just kiss her whenever you feel like it?”

“Bill,” Ginny starts, but Bill holds up a hand, silencing her.

“I want to hear from Harry.”

“I didn’t break it off with her because I wanted to,” Harry tells him, looking him in the eyes. “I had to. I didn’t want her to be in danger by being linked to me.”

“Okay,…I guess that makes sense,” Bill mumbles, then looks at Ginny. “He’s older than you.”

“You’re older than Fleur,” she replies coolly.

“That’s beside the point.”

“If you say so,” she shrugs.

“So are you two together again now? Or just messing around?” Bill asks, looking back and forth between the two.

“Um,” Ginny says, and then glances over at Harry.

“Together,” he answers, looking straight at Bill, but he sees a smile break out onto Ginny’s face from the corner of his eye.

“Good answer,” Bill nods.

“Okay, so now that you know, could we please be excused from this touching, yet equally annoying display of brotherly overprotection?” Ginny asks. Bill sighs.

“Yeah. That’s all I needed to say.”

“Thank goodness,” she breathes, turning to leave, and Harry follows, but then he feels a hand grabbing him by the elbow and he stops.

“One more thing, Potter,” Bill says, and Harry faces him. “I don’t care that you are the saviour of the entire Wizarding world; if you hurt my sister, I will kill you. Okay?”

“Um. Yes… sir,” Harry replies. Bill releases his elbow and smiles kindly at Harry.

“Alright. Oh, and consider it a birthday gift that I didn’t hex you the second I saw you all over her. Because I thought about it.”

“Oh, er… thank you,” he says, and then moves as fast as he can out of the living room, more terrified of Bill than he thought he would ever be in his entire life.

“So, if I hear correctly, you’re dating my sister now?” George asks the minute Harry is in the kitchen.

“Bill’s loud,” Ginny says. Harry looks at George as for a moment, George glares at him, but just as Harry is about to beg him not to get mad at him like Bill did, he smiles. He actually smiles.

“That’s fantastic news. I approve,” he says. “If you two get married, Mum will probably explode with happiness. She’s always wanted Harry as a son.”

Harry laughs and glances over at Ron, seeking his approval as well. He just gives a half-shrug and says,

“Okay.” And that’s enough.