Getting Harry Back

Chapter 16
Love, Sex, Girls and Twins

I mind how we lay in June, such a transparent summer morning;
You settled your head athwart my hips and gently turned over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosombone, and plunged your tongue
to my barestript heart...
Walt Whitman
Song of Myself [5]
From Leaves of Grass, first edition

"I love you, Hermione." Ron smiled. "I love you with everything that I am and can be."

Nobody, not even Hermione, knew that Ron was a hopelessly mushy romantic. Ron, himself, hadn't known before he fell in love with Hermione.

"I'd like to let her know someday." He frowned. "But only when I'm dead sure she won't make fun of me." If there was anything Ron had learned growing up the youngest of six brothers, "and with a nosy younger sister," it was keeping personal things to himself. Especially from the twins. "Not that Ginny's any better," he fussed. "And it's not my fault. Bet I caught it from Dad. Or Mum. Probably both." He sighed. "What chance did I have?"

Ron went back to his short litany, which he recited before going to sleep each night and every morning before starting his day.

"You're my magic. You're what makes me happy, what gives me life. You're my good dreams at night; you're what gets me up in the morning."

"In more ways than one."

As every morning, Ron felt his pajama bottoms... well-tented. He glanced across the small room and saw, with disappointment, Harry stirring. He reached down and gave his eager member a squeeze. "Have to wait for the shower, mate."

For these last few weeks, Harry, whom he loved more than anyone except Hermione, had had a lousy effect on his sex life. "Even by my own bloody wanking self," he grumped.

This summer, at Twelve Grimmauld Place, had been heaven for Ron. "And of all the places I'd never've guessed to be heaven, Twelve Grimmauld Place would've been up at the top. But there with Hermione, and all those empty rooms and hidden spots...."

Ron grinned as he replayed their gradual, step-by-step awakening, the slow-emerging miracle of love gently, insistently becoming more and more filled with touches and smells and tastes and two learning each other and their bodies and becoming one.

"Not that we're... well, having sex yet. Not sure I'm ready for that. Probably not, though it's kind of hard to admit. And I know Hermione's not ready, so that settles it anyway. But... well, whatever we're doing, it's..."

Ron felt a huge, dreamy-eyed smile.

"I've thought about doing stuff like that forever. But really doing it, and I mean not just doing it, but doing it with Hermione... And she likes it, I know she does, she wants to do it, too, and...." Ron was in awe. "She wants to do it with me, and not just that, but... she loves me."

Ron could hardly believe that it was true, that it was actually happening to him. "Hermione loves me. Out of all the blokes around, she loves me." He was so down-on-his-knees grateful that he wanted to thank her every time he saw her. Loving Hermione, that just seemed natural. "How could I not love her?" But her loving him, "That's... amazing." Growing up the second to the last of seven children, and with five brothers ahead of him, feeling special, really special, that never happened much to Ron. And while he so wanted, while he ached to feel special, like he was the only one, he'd learned never to expect it. He rarely let himself even feel that it could ever happen.

"But with Hermione, it happens every time she looks at me."

Ron had never felt so alive in his life.

"And she not only wants to look at me...."

With that, his pajama bottoms tented even more. He gave Harry another glance. "Damn," he thought, "still stirring." Then he got up with a strategically-placed towel and marched, discreetly, to the shower, his thoughts very much centered on Hermione.

* * * * * * * * * *

After taking care of urgent business, and while enjoying a leisurely hot shower before anyone else was up, Ron's thoughts went onto the oddnesses and puzzlements of sex. Growing up with five older brothers, all of whom -- "except Percy", he thought -- had been pretty open, Ron had gotten an early and earthy sex education. He grinned. "And randiness runs in the family."

The wizarding world, itself, was pretty open about sex, though the actual practices differed little from the Muggle world, at least as far as Ron could tell. And last year, as Ron felt himself getting closer to Hermione, and even before that, with his worries about Harry, Ron had made a point of asking around. The Muggle world seemed... "Well, I guess like the magical world," Ron thought, "different folks are different. Dean and Seamus, they seem pretty open about things. But Hermione and Harry...." By Ron's lights, both of them were extremely shy. Especially Harry.

"With Harry, though," he thought, "it's not just shy. I mean if he's shy, he's shy - that's all right. But...." Ron had been worried, often really worried about Harry. At first, he'd wondered whether Harry might be gay, like Charlie. "So of course, then, he'd have a hard time with sex and stuff."

"Charlie's my favorite brother," Ron thought, "before Harry, anyway. He never teased me, and he always had time for me. He always tried to understand, and to help if he could."

Ron vividly remembered, as a young boy, coming into a room and finding Charlie sobbing and saying, over and over, "What's wrong with me, what's wrong with me!" Ron had been really scared, and had run for Mum. His mum explained about Charlie being gay, and how some people were cruel and hateful. The magical world had some prejudice, though much of it came from Muggleborns.

"Still makes me mad," Ron simmered.

He had developed an explosive temper about anything anti-gay. "Remember finding myself with my hands around Colin Creevey's throat and screaming, right after Colin called Jamie MacPhearson a queer." He felt his anger surge again. "Took Harry, Neville, Seamus and Dean to pull me off him." And it took Ron over an hour to calm down. "But," he noted with grim satisfaction, "there's never been any more of that shite in Gryffindor. Least not around me."

"Short fuses run in the family," he thought, "short and pre-lit. Nice to know they're good for something other than getting me in trouble."

So Ron had wondered about Harry being gay, and he'd been, for half a year or more, very protective of him. But then Ron figured out, "Harry didn't know anything about sex." Toward the end of their third year, Dean had caught Seamus having a solo good time and had made a joke, which Seamus bantered back, and even Neville was laughing.

"I looked over at Harry, and it was clear that he didn't have a clue."

After that, Ron made a point of noticing Harry when sex jokes were told, "which, of course, was all the time." Harry's reaction was always the same: clueless. "Guarded, because he knew he should know, but I could tell he was definitely clueless."

"I realized what it meant for Harry, growing up and never having friends or family or anyone he could talk to. He didn't know anything." Ron was still appalled.

Ron promptly had a very private talk with Harry, explaining the basics.

"He blushed so badly that I worried it might be permanent."

Then whenever anyone made a sex joke, Ron was alert to Harry, and if Harry looked puzzled, Ron found a private time to explain. "He always blushed, but he was always grateful, I was sure of that. Even got to where he'd look at me, and I'd know he wanted to know. I reckoned that was Harry's problem -- not gay, but just not knowing. And I thought things were working out for him."

Ron paused, then shuddered. "Until that one time." He scowled.

"Seamus had just told a joke about 'bum sex', and we were all laughing. But Harry...." He felt an upsurge of rage. "This time, he'd figured it out, and I swear to Merlin, he was trembling, shaking like a bloody leaf!"

Ron thought, again, that Harry might be gay.

"Tried to talk with him about it, but nothing doing. The one time he wouldn't talk. When I tried, he just began shaking again. I remember him saying, 'Ron, I... I don't know why, I really don't, but... I... I just can't talk about it, I can't.'"

Ron scowled again. "Reckon I got pretty protective."

Shortly afterwards was when he'd grabbed Colin by the throat.

"Reckon it wasn't just Charlie who got me going."

After Cho, Ron figured it wasn't that Harry was gay. "I mean, bloody hell, the look in his eyes when he saw her. He had to be at least bi." Ron had realized that, with Harry, it wasn't shy or gay or what he didn't know. So his uneasiness about Harry and sex hadn't gone away.

When Ron started feeling Harry's feelings, he got scared again about how little Harry seemed to feel sex. "He's a bloke, and sixteen and all. But it's like...." Ron frowned. "He never seems to feel sex at all, or if he does, he just shuts it down right away or pushes it aside or something - don't know how the hell he does it. Like he's not supposed to feel anything about sex, or he's scared or...."

He paused. "Maybe with that beating and getting hit in the...." He shuddered in sympathetic pain and felt his temper flare. "I swear I'll kill the Dursleys."

But Ron didn't think Harry's lack of sex feelings was just about the beating. He figured it was part of everything the Dursleys had done to him. Ron felt sadness that didn't replace his rage, but joined it.

"Dammit all! One more good thing got taken away from him and broken." He shook his head. "Harry missing all that. Even the little private fun bits."

Instinctively, protectively, Ron mentally reached inside of himself to where he felt those "Harry feelings".

* * * * * * * * * *

Harry woke up with a strong and warm-friendly sense of Ron. He smiled and looked over, mildly surprised and disappointed to see an empty bed.

"Reckon he's already in the shower."

Harry looked at their small bedroom clock, a wizard statue that winked at him and said, "Morning, Harry. It's quarter to seven o'clock."

"Ron's up kind of early," he thought.

Harry lay back on the bed and closed his eyes, enjoying not having to get up, and enjoying, too, his warm sense of Ron which, he felt with a smile, carried a strong flavor of Hermione.

"My first new family," he thought as he dozed off into a light and well-loved sleep.

* * * * * * * * * *

I resist anything better than my own diversity,
And breathe the air and leave plenty after me,
And am not stuck up, and am in my place.
Walt Whitman
Song of Myself [16]
From Leaves of Grass, first edition.

HandBonding with Percy wasn't nearly as bad as Harry feared. At the end. At first, though....

Right after HandBonding, Percy wanted to go to the living room for a talk. Harry reluctantly agreed, and quickly discovered he'd had a firm basis for his reluctance.

"So, Harry, I hear you want to be an Auror. That's a pretty tough job, and getting along in the Ministry of Magic is pretty tough, too. My advice is...."

As always with the BondRope, Harry felt further into Percy, and Percy felt further into Harry. That was the problem.

"Harry, I sense an uncertainty in you. Uncertainty isn't for anyone who wants to be an Auror or who wants to work in the Ministry. You need to...."

Percy, as always, was bossy. With the BondRope, Percy could get further inside Harry to boss more, and Harry had fewer places to hide. So Harry, of course, bristled. Which made Percy bossier and Harry bristlier. A bad start that earned Harry some highly-amused looks from the twins and, from Ron, some really sympathetic, "do-you-want-me-to-kill-him-for-you?" looks.

"Harry, when I mentioned Fudge, I could feel your anger. Anger isn't going to work with him; he demands unquestioning loyalty and support. So you need to...."

Then Harry got a hopeful look from Mum. His mum. Which brought Harry back to his most-important reality: Mum wanted Harry to bond to Percy. More: she wanted Percy brought back into their family, she wanted that with every fibre of her being.

For Harry, that his mum wanted something that much, meant that Harry was going to do it or die trying. This woman let Harry be her son, she chose to be his mum. She loved Harry into her-now-his family. There was nothing Harry wouldn't do for her. Nothing.

So Harry took a big gulp and determined -- no, he solemnly swore that he, Harry, was going to let Percy be bossy, and that he, Harry, was going to love him and bond. Full stop. "That's what Mum wants," he thought, "that's what Mum gets."

Inside himself, Harry painfully let down his bristle-walls against Percy's bossiness. And outside, he gulped and said, "You know, Percy, I think I could really use some help finding my way around the Ministry. I think I made a bad impression."

Ron, who obviously had been lurking, stuck his head around the corner with a look that plainly said, "Have you gone mental?"

"You sure did, Harry," Percy said. "Not that it was entirely your fault, but...." And Percy went on and on, and on. So Ron shook his head and left.

Harry not only let Percy in, he loved him. Harry had to start out using his mum's love for Percy. But since Harry, even without the BondRope, still felt his mum's feelings pretty strongly, that wasn't hard. And once Harry started feeling love, somehow he knew what to do. He didn't just love Percy moving into him, he also moved into Percy with love.

"Gee, Harry, I sense that you really appreciate...."

When he love-felt Percy's bossiness, he also began to feel that Percy wasn't just trying to control him -- though that was certainly there. Harry felt the reason behind Percy's control: Percy was trying to help him. Maybe it wasn't the way Harry wanted to be helped - actually, there was no maybe about it: it wasn't the way Harry wanted to be helped. But still, when he could feel Percy's trying-to-help, it got easier, a lot easier.

Harry even felt something Gryffindorish about Percy, too. He began to understand why Dumbledore chose him for Head Boy. Percy, in his own and stubborn way, really was trying to help. He wasn't just a self-centered, power-mad git.

"You know, Harry, there are still people who are pretty angry with you, and with Dumbledore, too, even though things've changed and, frankly, they were wrong. Some are far up in the Ministry. I've started to talk with them, and I think they're coming around, but you should...."

Harry not only let Percy say what he wanted to say, and say it how and how long he wanted to say it, Harry also listened to him, really listened. Harry smiled and even felt touched by Percy's wanting-to-help. He hadn't had many people who'd wanted to help him, so it wasn't hard to feel genuinely touched. Harry was now loving Percy for what he was trying to do for him. He was loving Percy for Percy's caring, for Percy's love.

"I appreciate what you're doing for me at the Ministry. I know I'm going to need your help, not just later when I become an Auror, but probably a lot sooner, with the war and all...."

Which led to Harry's next surprise: when he let Percy be bossy-helpful and loved him for it, Harry felt Percy returning gratitude and love. By the heaping bucketsfull.

"It means a lot for me to be able to help you, Harry. You're my brother." He looked a bit sad. "I know that maybe I don't always show it the best way. But I want to help you, I really do." Percy frowned. "I want to help all my brothers, and all my family. But sometimes, when I try... I don't know, it just doesn't seem to work out. And then I get mad and they get mad - I mean, we're Weasleys and all - and... you know...."

Percy hung his head for a while, then looked back at Harry, pleading: "So if there's any way that I can help, any way at all, I want to. Please let me know? It means a lot to me."

Percy gave Harry a shy smile.

Harry was stunned. Fortunately, his gratitude showed along with his stunned -- just as strong, just as real. "Thanks, Percy. I will, I promise." Harry smiled shyly, too. "It means a lot to me, having a brother who wants to help."

It finally came to Harry: Percy was trying to belong, trying to earn his belonging with Harry, and with their family. Percy wanted that belonging desperately, though he'd never say it. And he was scared that he wasn't going to be accepted, that he wasn't going to be allowed to belong.

That changed Harry's entire Percy-world. If there was anything Harry truly understood, whole-heartedly, it was wanting desperately to belong and being scared down to his toes that he wouldn't. Did he ever understand that!

So much to Percy's shock, and even to a bit of his own, Harry hugged Percy, he thoroughly hugged him. At first Percy went stiff, but then he suddenly hugged back with everything in his heart, his well-hidden, Gryffindorishly large Weasley heart.

"I'm glad you're my brother, Percy," Harry said quietly. "You'll always be a big part of my family." A promise not just to his mum, but now also to his Percy.

"Thanks," came from a small, fragile voice.

Not only through the BondRope, but also through their brother-hug washed a tidal wave of bonding and magic and love. With that, Harry knew he was absolutely Percy's Harry. And with that, too, Harry felt his magic growing again, strengthening in.... Harry frowned and checked, but it was true:

"In Percy-ish ways."

* * * * * * * * * *

HandBonding with Fred and George was every bit as much fun as Harry thought it would be. And Harry had no trouble sleeping afterwards.

When Harry first HandBonded to George, Fred was there, too. George insisted their HandBonding be private, just the three of them and up in the twins' room. The twins had their look which meant, to all who knew them, that Something Was About To Happen. Harry braced himself, ready, he thought, for anything.

But not ready for what he got.

First, Harry felt in farther than with Bill, Charlie or Percy - almost as far as with Dumbledore and Hagrid. And with that farther-in, he got his second surprise: when he was in George, Fred was there, too. And Harry could feel not only George, but also Fred in him.

Harry stared at both of them, shocked to their complete satisfaction.

"Yeah," George said, "we figured..."

"...you might feel it that way." Fred completed.

Then Harry got an even bigger shock.

F: [We can talk inside, too.]

G: [Can you hear us?]

Harry nodded, too stunned to speak.

Delight captured the twins' faces.

F: [And we can hear...]

G: [...each other's thinking...]

F: [...even before we actually think.]

F&G joined: Grin

G: [We can join together, too.]

F: [It's how we can complete...]

G: [...each other's sentences...]

F: [...and freak people out so well...]

G: [...not to mention being so good at plotting mayhem...]

F: [...and massacre...]

G: [...and all forms of total destruction...]

F: [...and desecration...]

G: [...and halving the time we had to spend studying for tests.]

G&F: Evil Grin

F: [We've been at it for years...]

G: [...getting better and better at it.]

F: [And we were curious to see if...]

G: [...the BondRope would let you do the same....]

F: [...because if it did...]

G: [...we figured we could market something like it...]

F: [...and make a mint...]

G: [...for us and you, partner.]

Harry had to sit down.

Most of his two HandBonding days, first with George, then with Fred, when Harry and the twins weren't involved in merry-making and prank-pulling, they worked on trying to get Harry to speak inside. While he never did speak, Harry felt that he was pointed in the right direction, and with a bit more time....

G: [Relax, Harry.]

F: [It took us years, so...]

G: [...give yourself a week or two.]

All three promised to keep working on it after the Bonding Fortnight. Harry, however, was sworn to secrecy.

F: [Dead useful, this inside talking and...]

G: [...we don't want anyone knowing. It would...]

F: [...spoil the fun...]

G: [...and the mystery.]

Harry loved being part of their twinbond. There was definitely a Fred, and definitely a George. But there was also just-as-definitely a Fred&George. And the twins felt most content, even most real, most alive spending their time as Fred&George.

F: [Loads more fun.]

G: [Not to mention more energy.]

F: [We're working on sleeping for each other.]

G: [We haven't figured that out yet.]

F: [But we're quite good...]

G: [...at putting our brains together....]

F: [...to come up with the very best excuses...]

G: [...or the most insulting comebacks.]

F&G: Very Evil Grin

Toward the end of the second day, Harry realized something, something that had nagged at him just out of awareness, that he'd tried to figure out ever since his initial shock. Fred&George, in their twinbonding, and, yes, just as much in their fun, had their own magic almost as powerful as Hagrid's. And -- another surprise! - a magic somehow similar:

"More Ancient Magic," he thought, and he could feel, as they horsed around, more and more of their magic becoming, in a way, his magic, too.

Harry also sensed not only his wistfulness about Fred&George's bond, but a newly-awakened yearning - his own... incompletion and a reaching-out..., a reaching-out-to...?

Harry shrugged, stumped.

But his "reaching-out-to..." remained.

* * * * * * * * * *

This is the female form,
A divine nimbus exhales from it from head to foot,
It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction,
I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor
....all falls aside but myself and it.
Walt Whitman
I Sing the Body Electric [4]
From Leaves of Grass, first edition

Harry had been looking forward to HandBonding with Ginny. "Maybe this'll help me figure out girls," who were, to Harry, A Great Mystery. Yes, Harry knew Hermione and she was a girl. "But...." Harry frowned. For Harry, she wasn't, well, a girl-girl. He knew she was to Ron, but to Harry....

"She's a girl and my friend, and I love her a whole lot, more than I could ever say...."

Again, a "but" came: "To me, she's not a girl-girl."

So Harry was eager to HandBond with Ginny.

Right at the start, he discovered it was a no-go. Once the BondRope was on, Harry knew that a sister wasn't a girl-girl either.

This time, though, there was a different "but". "But," he thought, "she's still a girl and maybe she can help? At least some?"

Ginny was extra-good at being a sister-to-a-brother. She had, of course, lots of experience. While Harry had always thought of Ginny as really younger - at least until that night at the Ministry of Magic -- now Ginny felt like an equal, and because of her experience, even a bit like an older sister. She helped Harry out and reassured him in all sorts of big and little ways. As he'd been again and again, Harry was grateful, "'cause I don't have any experience being a brother."

Harry felt grateful to Ginny for another reason. "She used to fancy me and everything." Harry had been a bit worried about that before HandBonding, and he was so relieved that he couldn't feel any of that in her now.

With Ginny, though, Harry did feel, deep in her, a... disappointment? He tried to ignore it, but it didn't go away. After a while, Harry got scared again that maybe it was about him not fancying her. "What if she's still mad at me?" he thought. "What can I do, because now I'm her brother and... this is just too weird!"

So Harry was scared, more scared than during any other HandBonding. But he decided he had to know what was disappointing her, so he could do something, or at least try.

When they were first alone, sitting on the front porch just taking in the morning, Harry gathered up all his courage and said, "Ginny?" Harry's voice sounded more scared than he meant to. Truthfully, he didn't mean to sound scared at all.

Ginny caught Harry's scare and quickly turned: caring, worried, alert. "There's a lot of Ron's protectiveness in Ginny," Harry thought.

"Harry? You all right? Is that snake--"

"No, Ginny, it's not that." Harry felt relieved. Ginny obviously cared, "so even if I've disappointed her, or made her mad," he thought, "there's still hope. Maybe I can make it up and still be an okay brother."

Ginny relaxed her worry, but not her caring or alert. She furrowed her brow and cocked her head to one side. "What's bothering you, Harry?"

"Probably it's just my imagination," Harry began cautiously, "and I don't know anything about having a sister, 'cause I've never had one before, but...." Harry looked sad. "I get the feeling that I've... disappointed you?" Harry rushed on. "And whatever I've done, please tell me, 'cause I want to change it if I can. Or maybe I can apologize?"

Ginny laughed. "I didn't know I was that obvious. I'll bet it's this BondRope. You know, Harry, the only time I HandBonded, I was a baby, so I don't remember a thing." She smiled at him with caring, but with her alert all gone along with her worry. "It's nothing you've done, really. And it's certainly nothing you can change. I wouldn't even want you to, because I love you just as you are."

At that, Harry gave a big sigh of relief. Maybe, just maybe it'd be all right. Then Ginny blushed and looked down, and Harry got just as scared all over again. The silence was awful. Finally Ginny spoke,

"You see... I'm in the same boat as you. I've never had a sister, either." She took a big breath. "I know Mum and Dad aren't going to have any more children, and I've always wanted to have a sister, and... well... you know...."

She was having a hard time saying it.

Harry smiled, completely relieved. "You figured that if you got someone new in your family, it didn't seem fair it was another brother, when you already had six."

Ginny nodded, raised her head and grinned, looking like she'd just been caught being naughty.

"Right, Ginny - I don't know how to change that one. But maybe... I can be a different kind of brother?" Harry gave her his best super-innocent look, one that had even gotten him out of trouble a few times.

Ginny frowned at him with grave suspicion. "Like Mum," he thought, "waiting to hear something she knows she won't like."

Harry grinned. "I can be your only black-haired brother. That help any?"

Ginny pursed her lips and appraised his hair with great interest. "Perhaps if you let it grow more. And added a few bows."

After that, they had fun. Ginny was a lot like Fred and George, or more like Charlie. Because like Charlie, even though she was fun-loving, she had a wound. Toward the end of the day, while helping out Mum by picking some lettuce and carrots and radishes and green onions for supper, she and Harry got quiet, a nice, peaceful quiet, and Harry decided to ask.

"Ginny, I noticed, like me, you've got a... wound. Know what I mean?"

Ginny stopped picking. "Yes." She thought a moment. "I suppose we all know how you got yours. And you know about mine, too. If you think about it. Same bloke who first made yours."

"Riddle?"

Ginny nodded. "Let's take this stuff in to Mum. Then we can come back out and talk." She smiled. "I think it'd do me some good, too."

Harry and Ginny returned to sit on a bench near the garden. They had a serious talk, a good brother-and-sister talk about Riddle and Voldemort, about what had happened to them, and about the war. Harry felt closer to Ginny than any his older brothers, because he better understood her and she better understood him. In some ways, they'd gone through so many of the same things. And Harry was impressed that with Ginny, it was okay to say, "Voldemort."

"Well," she said, "we know him better than almost anybody else."

"Yeah, I reckon so."

"Maybe when you face your enemy," she said, "even if things didn't go well and you got hurt.... Just facing him, just seeing who he is, what he looks like, what he sounds like, that makes him...." She stopped and frowned. "Not less scary, because we know what he can do. But...."

Harry and Ginny looked at each other. Neither knew how to say what it was, but they both felt it, and they both knew it was true. And it was a truth they shared, they and very few others. At least very few who'd lived.

Harry did eventually ask her about girls. Ginny tried to help, she really did, but in the end, Harry wasn't sure he knew much more. "I guess I don't know how to ask the right questions," he thought. "Or maybe girls aren't something you learn by asking questions."

So while he now had a sister to talk to, along with Hermione, Harry still didn't feel he knew much about girl-girls.

"Whatever they are."

Harry sighed.

Deeply.

* * * * * * * * * *

Is this then a touch?.... quivering me to a new identity....

All truths wait in all things.
They neither hasten their own delivery nor resist it.
They do not need the obstetric forceps of the surgeon...
What is less or more than a touch?
Walt Whitman
Song of Myself [28, 30]
From Leaves of Grass, first edition

Ron was the biggest surprise of all.

Harry and Ron decided to save their HandBonding until last. They didn't know why; it just felt right. The moment they were joined by the BondRope, they were together like Harry had been with Mum. Feeling, being inside each other. Completely.

That Harry expected.

But: Ron had a wound!

Ron smiled at Harry's shock. "Yeah, mate, I got one, too."

It took Harry a second to absorb the "too". "You knew about my wound?"

"Mum," Ron said.

Harry was alert. "Did she tell you... everything?"

"Yeah."

Harry's head dropped. How could he deal with Ron knowing? Would Ron still want to be his friend, or even be around him--

"Harry."

As he had three weeks before, Harry couldn't look up, he couldn't face his best friend and brother, he couldn't face his shame.

"Harry," Ron said gently, and with his huge hands raised Harry's face. Harry turned away and shut his eyes in a wince.

Ron sighed. "I got my wound same way as you got yours. Least in part."

Harry's face shot back to his brother, eyes shocked, horrified.

"Ron? You?"

"Yeah...." Ron sighed again, then blushed. "An older cousin -- he lived with us for about a year. Everyone liked him; me too, at first. But then...." Ron shrugged. "He made me do lots of stuff. Don't like to talk about it even now, you know?"

Harry nodded, feeling all kinds of sad and mad for his brother, and really knowing how Ron felt.

"Couldn't tell anyone for a long time," Ron continued. "Didn't think they'd believe me. And that cousin, he said I'd get in big trouble if I ever told."

Ron lowered his head. Harry took hold of Ron's arm and squeezed.

"He told me," Ron said barely above a whisper, his head still down, "that if I didn't do what he wanted, he'd... he'd do it to Ginny!"

Ron looked up at Harry with total intensity: "And he never did, he never did anything to Ginny. Never!"

Then quiet and deadly serious, he said: "If he had, I'd've killed him."

Harry nodded slowly.

Ron smiled a little, then looked aside. "Guess that's why I get kind of protective of Ginny, 'specially with boys and all. Maybe too much. Sometimes she gets mad at me, and I know she's right, I know I need to back off." Ron's head went down again. "But it's hard."

Harry hugged his best friend and brother, finding, joining and fierce-loving every speck of Ron's hurt and shame. His Ron's hurt and shame. Absolutely Harry's Ron.

When Harry let go, Ron looked at him and smiled shyly. "Took over a year after he left before I finally broke down and told Mum. She and Dad knew something was wrong, they just couldn't get me to tell 'em."

"Telling Mum and especially Dad, that helped a lot. Made me see that it wasn't my fault, that I did the best I could, that I wasn't... you know... less of a bloke?" Ron blushed and smiled shyly. "Mum and Dad didn't even blame me for not telling them."

Harry nodded as he thought and felt about it. It had helped him, telling Mum. Maybe he'd done the best he could, and that he wasn't... well, less of a bloke. "But Dad knowing?" Harry shuddered.

Through the BondRope, Ron guessed Harry's thoughts.

"Dad knows."

Harry stared. "He didn't say anything."

"Not surprised. Guess he reckoned it was more important that you bond with him, that you know you're his son first." Ron spoke with tender certainty: "Harry, you're family. Nothing's more important. Nothing. You're one of us, you're part of us. You belong. Hey? Got that?"

Harry thought about what Ron said. He could feel that. After all the bondings, he could really feel that he belonged, that he was their Harry. He knew he couldn't be alone now, he would never be just Harry. He'd never be the kind of floating, not-quite-fitting-in that he'd been before. He'd always belong now, he'd always be their Harry.

"And Harry?"

He saw Ron looking sad, serious and really protective, what he now knew was Ginny-protective.

"You're my brother and my best friend, and nothing that happens to you is ever going to change that. Hear?"

Harry froze. Ron scowled.

"Did knowing that my cousin did all those things to me change how you feel about me?"

Harry shook his head, face still frozen.

"Well?"

The two brothers locked eyes.

Then the red-head smiled. "Why do you think I'm such a troll?"

Harry goggled.

"So why else would you think I couldn't love you but you could love me? Huh?"

Harry looked down. Then Harry got his own hurt-and-shame-finding hug, inside and out, leaving him all-loved and knowing that he belonged, that he was Ron's Harry.

Absolutely Ron's Harry.

* * * * * * * * * *

Throughout their day, Harry noticed a growing feeling of, well, settledness, and more: completeness, a completeness he sensed both in himself and in Ron. He felt a familiarity about it, not just that this was the way it was supposed to be, but also that this was something he had felt before. Somewhere... recently....

"That's it: Fred&George."

Harry was feeling not just Harry-in-Ron and Ron-in-Harry, like with Mum. He was also feeling, more and more, Ron&Harry.

Not just Ron and Harry added up. Ron-light and Harry-light came together, making a new and richer color, a fuller and brighter luminescence - a greater light together. Ron-music and Harry-music, two melodies fit together, creating harmonies, counterpoints, a new, more complex and powerful music - one music together. And from that together, each individual music could never-again be separate. Each always implied, even in silence and distance, both the other and their together. Their Magical together.

And still more: as with Fred&George, Harry sensed in Ron and in himself a greater contentment and, yes, a greater completeness in their Ron&Harry.

"I guess," he thought, "we're... twinning?"

Their twinning, like getting a mum and dad, and getting a family and a home, that fulfilled a long-unfilled need, a need that Harry, and that Ron, too, seemed born with. Harry felt his magical powers grow more than ever before. And Harry felt the same, though in a very different way, with Ron and his magic.

Harry sighed and let himself go further into Ron&Harry. He felt another sigh, another letting go, and looked up. Ron smiled down at him.

"More Ancient Magic," Harry thought, and both his wound and Ron's wound glowed: "Yes!"

"And maybe," he thought, "like what Dumbledore said -- Magic's plan?" Again a double-wound yes-glow.

Harry smiled back at Ron.

Or rather, now Ron&Harry smiled.

* * * * * * * * * *

For Harry, the community week started as a blur, with Weasley relatives and friends by the acre. Everyone, of course, knew Harry - he was ready for that, sort of - and they were all so nice, and he really liked them and was glad to get to know them, his extended family and all....

But it was a bit much. He felt on exhibit, like a new animal at the zoo. Through their twinning, Ron sensed this, too, and he hovered protectively, inside and out. Harry, throughout the day, found himself retreating into the comfort of Ron&Harry. By day's end, though, he could hardly wait until the last people left and he could sink back into his family.

His big exception was Hermione. Harry had been aching to see her since the moment his first BondWeek started. Every evening when he talked to his portrait parents, he also felt himself talking with her, with the Hermione he felt inside of him. But it wasn't enough. So Harry had been waiting, really waiting.

On the second day of the community week, while Harry was in the kitchen talking with some second cousins, he heard the door open and:

"Harry!"

Hermione's voice felt like the first warm, sunny day of spring -- birds singing and new leaves and everything fresh and come alive.

He turned and there she was, Ron right there, too, his arm around her. Harry just took her in, just took them in - his Hermione and his first new family, his Ron-and-Hermione. His heart, his magic grew with smiles and relief.

Hermione ran over and gave him a big hug. "Oh Harry, I'm so happy for you! You look so good, so...." She thought a moment. "At peace."

He smiled. "That's because I'm finally home. Especially now that you're here."

Hermione blushed and smiled back.

Then it struck him. He excused himself from his cousins and drew his friends aside. "Ron, Hermione: my scar. It's hurt all summer. But except for that one time, it hasn't hurt since, since... before my birthday party."

Both friends stared.

Harry thought a moment; he hadn't seen a Daily Prophet. "Have there been any more attacks?"

Hermione nodded. "Several. And two days after the party.... Oh, Harry, I don't want to spoil your week but... Seamus Finnigan and his family were murdered."

Harry had a flash memory of Seamus smiling and all happy for him at the birthday party. Years of Seamus flooded him. Seamus, that big, funny, life-loving Irishman. Seamus, his friend. Seamus, only sixteen, now never seventeen. Now Seamus was gone, now he was dead, murdered. Murdered, dammit to bloody hell, Seamus was murdered!

Harry felt himself drop inside, like falling into a hole, like - no, he knew-

"I've fallen into my wound."

All around him and closing in was a darkness Harry felt as hate and fury. And in front of him...

"The snake."

Well within striking distance: the snake, green and basilisk-sized, its red eyes piercing him. Snake and boy-wizard stared. Then it drew back its enormous head to attack. Harry felt the snake not out to kill him, but-

"It wants my soul! Like a Dementor!"

He was trapped, trapped. No place to run. Without a wand, what could he do, what could he possibly do against--

The snake opened its mouth, showing huge fangs. Harry shrank back in terror - frozen, helpless.

Then it lunged.

Out of the wound's deep came a great rush of light and music and magic. It grabbed Harry, lifting him up and away. Harry felt the snake's head brush past him, and then there he was, standing on the wound's edge, staring down.

The snake bashed into the wound's side. It quickly recovered and, with a tongue flick, relocated Harry, first with its head, then with its eyes, those horrible, soul-hunting eyes.

Harry clearly sensed that whatever ward had been around the wound, keeping the snake and that black hate-fury from coming out, it was seriously weakened, and it continued to weaken. Should it collapse....

Somehow able to feel inside the snake, Harry knew that the snake sensed the ward weakening, too. He could feel the snake testing, testing, then knowing, as Harry now knew, that the ward could no longer keep it in.

The snake coiled, preparing to lunge again, this time out of the wound.

Suddenly, Harry felt himself somehow... calling magics, not only magics from deep inside his wound, but also many magics around him. Calling, desperately calling. Wound magics and all manner of magics, familiar and strange, surged to him and into him. Harry directed these magics through himself and, again without knowing how, into the ward.

The snake hesitated, once more testing. Then it began slithering up the wound's side. Harry could feel the snake calling its own magics, powerful magics, also from within the wound and from outside. And he could see that dark cloud, too, that hate-fury, building and rising, building and rising.

As snake and blackness reached the invisible ward, Harry felt them focusing their magics against it, to break it, just as he directed his called-magics into it, to strengthen it. The struggle began, and as Harry fought, everything got darker.

"Harry!" Ron was quiet-but-urgent. Harry could feel Ron's presence inside, strongbonding into Ron&Harry. Harry fled into their bond. It helped, it gave him more strength, strength he directed into the ward. But even together, even as Ron&Harry, he could feel it was not enough, not enough.

Suddenly, Harry felt Mum there. Outside, he heard her: "Harry! What's wrong?" More of Mum's magic flowed in, but it was still not enough. The ward continued to weaken and thin.

Harry, now mostly Ron&Harry fought harder and harder against the snake and the hate-fury. The ward was almost gone. It was only naked force, Ron&Harry and the called-magics against the snake and hate-fury. They felt themselves overwhelmed, losing, and everything becoming even darker.

Harry felt Ron weakening, too. He tried to detach from Ron, to push Ron away, away from his wound, away from the Dementor-like snake. But he heard Ron's clenched gasp: "No!" They were staying Ron&Harry.

"Harry! Ron!" They heard Dad and felt his hand on their outside shoulders, they felt more of Dad's magic come in. But even that wasn't enough, and the darkness grew. The black hate-fury was passing through the ward, through their called-magics and out of his wound. It surrounded Ron&Harry, closing in on them. And the snake, Ron&Harry could feel the snake pushing and pushing, inching forward relentlessly, inevitably, closer and closer, up to his wound's edge.

Hagrid suddenly appeared inside, then outside. Ron&Harry felt him pick them up, first Harry, then Ron. Everything became even darker. The cloud was now all out of his wound. The snake was almost out - they knew they couldn't stop it.

As the snake's great triangular head emerged, Harry led them, he led Ron&Harry fleeing helplessly into Hagrid, their Hagrid, their shelter. Harry felt, in Ron, a massive upwelling of strong magic, unlike any magic he'd ever felt.

Then that cloud enshrouded them, and Harry lost thought and feeling and all awareness as it reached into their minds and hearts with its blackness....

Lully, lullay, thou little tiny child,
Bye, bye lully, lullay.
Thou little tiny child,
Bye, by lully, lullay.
Chorus, Conventry Carol
15th c. English,
in Celebration of the Massacre of the Holy Innocents