Sunshine or Shadows

Chapter 4. Lost days at the Burrow

Summer meandered along, mild and passably dry, while Harry and Hermione continued to stay at the Burrow, helping Mr. and Mrs. Weasley wherever they could and snatching up as much alone time as was possible with Ginny and Ron. Bill and Fleur had gone back to their own home, and it was just the six of them staying now. Weekdays were loaded up with the drudge of receiving visitors, making trips to various hospitals to visit friends and distant relatives who were still fighting injuries from the war, and with countless hours spent lurking about the Burrow and its grounds, searching for something meaningful to do with themselves.

Hermione quizzed Mr. Weasley nightly about the new Ministry of Magic, peppering him with questions as soon as he settled himself in the front room by the fire. Kingsley had set about a massive reordering - tossing out whole departments and making key appointments with the swiftness and confidence of a true man in charge, and Hermione was keen to find, at the Ministry, a trustworthy sponsor of sorts. She wanted to find a Ministry official to help her sort out how best to recover her parents and their memories, and was growing more ill-at-ease as the weeks passed.

"Maybe we should just go ourselves," Ron offered, sitting on the back porch's painted step and leaning back on his hands confidently, squinting slightly in the morning sun. Hermione was pacing back and forth on a patch of dewy lawn in front of the step and muttering to herself as the four friends took in a bit of fresh air.

"I think we should definitely go," Ron said, continuing his thought. "We can't leave them down there much longer, Hermione, they'll spend your inheritance on Kangaroos and Koala bears and it's so hot down there..."

Hermione giggled. "They aren't buying Kangaroos, Ron. I don't even think that's legal."

Harry gave Ginny a little nudge to let her know that it was time to go back inside in order to give Ron and Hermione a moment or two alone. They had been sharing the porch swing, listening to the other couple carry on, and were quietly playing a daring little game that Ginny had invented. She had begun the game at dinner one night when she had grown frustrated with the fact that she was about to turn seventeen, was living with her boyfriend, for all intents and purposes, and still wouldn't be able to honestly describe her status, to anyone who cared, as "dating".

That night, she had been listening impassively to the ruckus that typified a Weasley Sunday dinner -- Charlie, George and Percy stopped by every Sunday unannounced and even as they mourned, Ginny's brothers still managed to raise the noise levels to something above intolerable at mealtime. She had been watching Harry as he shoved a large spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth, and had been positively taken by an inspired urge to mix things up a little. Slinking her hand under the table, she nudged her wand out of her pocket, carefully so as not to arouse suspicion, tapped the wand very gently on Harry's knee, and delivered a mild tickle charm. Harry had choked on his potatoes a bit but otherwise didn't flinch, and then he gave Ginny a look that only served to translate into her head as, "I dare you to do that again." A few nights later, Harry returned the favor, freezing Ginny's wand in her pocket beforehand so that she couldn't retaliate.

This morning, on the swing, it was Ginny who started up the game, hiding her wand under a blanket as she and Harry cuddled. One of Harry's long legs stretched out to push occasionally against the floor boards and set them swaying in a wonderful, lulling motion while Ginny snuggled up against his chest: sneaking in a good tickle now and again as they both stared out into the backyard, and drawing wicked pleasure from his stifled gasps. It wasn't exactly romantic, Ginny thought. Tickling her boyfriend or glaring back at him after receiving a wave of the prickly charm herself was childish at best, but it was all they had for now. It was teasing, pure and simple, and that was life as she currently lived it. Harry pulled up the blanket and stood to fold it, smiling down at Ginny with an apology on his face, and she allowed a little self-indulgent pout to escape. Life was a tease.

"We should all go," Ron said, reminding Ginny that she was supposed to be taking Harry's hand to go back inside. "We could Apparate in to Australia...wherever, snag them up, side-along them back to the Burrow, and you could fix their memories in time for dinner." Ginny looked up at her brother and furrowed her brow.

"Nothing is that simple, Ron," Ginny said, sneaking a glance at Hermione to gauge whether she was buying in to Ron's deft "plan". "First of all, we don't know where in Australia they are."

"It's true," Hermione said. She didn't look at Ginny and Ron as she spoke, but seemed preoccupied with a little brown bird which had perched itself on a scraggly shrub near the step she had been pacing in front of. "I'd need someone to give me permission to use locator charms, and..." she gave Ron a caring smile before continuing, "we can't just side-along Muggles, Ron. It isn't permitted."

Harry grabbed Ginny's hand and tugged on it, pulling her off the swing and laughing as she stumbled forward into his chest. "Hello there," he said.

"Hello," she giggled back.

"Hermione," Harry said, wrapping an arm around Ginny and turning to address his friend, "I've already spoken with Kingsley about it. He wants us to wait...said there would be no problem getting all the necessary permits to sort out your parents, given the circumstances, and he'll be appointing a new Head of Muggle Relations this week."

Ginny stared at Harry. When had he been having little chats with the Minister of Magic? She searched her memories of the past week to find a parcel of time where she hadn't been glued to Harry's side, when he could have found an opportunity to pop over to the Ministry and settle the conditions of the Grangers' rescue.

"Doubting me?" Harry chirped, squeezing Ginny again and smiling mischievously.

"Um...no?" she returned.

"I think you're doubting me," Harry said again. "But I'll have you know that I Apparated over to the Ministry last night, in fact. I wanted to speak with Kingsley about a few things, and he's told me on many occasions that we're welcome to stop by any time."

Ron snorted. "You may be welcome," he said, casting a quizzical look at Harry. "But I would be tossed out on my backside if I showed up in the dead of night, demanding to speak with the Minister."

Harry dropped his arm and fidgeted a bit. Ginny noticed that he clenched his fist lightly, one of the habits that she'd picked up on over the summer: clenched fists indicated discomfort, grumpiness usually denoted hunger, and a scratch to the back of his lovely neck meant that he was deep in thought. This particular hand gesture wasn't hard to decipher, she thought. Harry was still uncomfortable with the special treatment that he has been privy to since saving the world, and he sported a particular sore spot when it came to Ron, Hermione or any of their lot receiving a lesser welcome than he was afforded.

"I'm sure you'd be welcomed in as well," Ginny said, leaning on Harry and trying to nudge his arm enough so that it might automatically wrap around her again. She felt a warm rush of gratitude when she felt him pull her in, relishing in the sensation of his bare, t-shirt-clad arm against her skin. "So," she continued, "when can Hermione get her parents back?"

Hermione turned to face Ginny and Harry, and the look on her face caused Ginny's heart to lurch. She had been so silent this summer, Ginny reflected, never mentioning her own family as she attended funeral after funeral and while listening patiently to everyone's particular heartaches. It had been so easy to forget that Hermione hadn't seen her family in almost a year. Ginny looked up at Harry, who was directing a confident nod toward his friend and smiling warmly.

"Soon," he said. "Kingsley thinks that he will be able to put a team of Aurors on it within a week's time."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Oh, Harry..."

Ron stood up and gathered Hermione in his arms. She seemed to be trying to process the information, and didn't quite appear to know what to do with herself.

"Let's leave them alone," Harry whispered in Ginny's ear. She was staring at her brother, somewhat amused to see such a blatant display of sensitivity on his part, and jumped slightly at the tingle of hot breath wafting over her rather sensitive nerve endings.

"Yeah," she said. "Okay."

Ginny allowed Harry to lead her off the porch and into the Burrow's back entrance. She felt his grip tighten as they passed the kitchen where a busy Molly Weasley stood dutifully at the sink, directing her wand about in order to clean up after breakfast. Harry worried about her mum constantly, Ginny knew, and she felt a surge of affection for him as she allowed herself to be led over to stand beside her mum.

"Why don't you let us finish up," Harry offered, dropping Ginny's hand and picking up a greasy skillet to examine it. "Ron and Hermione were driving us barmy anyway out there, we could use the distraction."

Molly lowered her wand, which had been pointed at a pile of plates, and sighed. "It used to take ten minutes to do this...clean up after a meal," she said. "I don't know why I can't concentrate properly anymore." As she said it, Ginny could see the familiar look of muted torture return to her mother's tired face.

"She'd forgotten again," Ginny thought. "Just for a moment, she'd forgotten why things were so far off kilter."

Ginny gave her mum a smile and flicked her head to the side, indicating that she should go. "Harry and I have this, you go ahead and find Dad. He's out in the backyard looking lost. You'll want to stop him before he starts "working" with those muggle hand tools he bought again."

"Oh my," Molly gasped, her face switching from the familiar, pained expression to one of worry. Arthur had collected a number of interesting means to distract himself as he grieved for his lost son, and his recent acquisition of muggle woodworking devices was causing much concern in the Weasley household. "He's going to lose a finger with those things, I'm sure of it," she said as she pocketed her wand and patted Harry on the shoulder, giving a nod of approval before leaving the couple to their work.

"He is going to lose a finger," Harry said after Mrs. Weasley had left, allowing a bit of dimple to show as he tried to look concerned. "I've seen him out there in the shed, he's like a madman with those tools."

Ginny smirked. "I should do something about it, I know, but..." she grabbed a towel out of the top drawer, getting ready to dry the pots and pans as Harry used a Scouring charm to clean them, "it gives him something to do." She watched her boyfriend perform a well-practiced bit of magic, removing all grease and even some ages-old rust from the old cast-iron skillet. It took a great effort not to feel just a bit jealous that she still was not allowed to use magic at home while Harry flaunted it without a care.

"You're getting good at that, by the way," she said, smiling. "I just may have to keep you around."

"Won't need me in another week or so," Harry quipped. "You'll be of age soon, and then you can clean your own dishes."

"No," Ginny said, wiping the skillet dry and handing it back to Harry so he could send it to its storage rack in the back pantry. "I'll need loads of practice before I'll ever be as good as you." She nudged his elbow playfully. "You'll have to be my dish slave until I come up to speed."

"So," Harry said, dropping his playful expression and taking on a more serious one. "Your birthday."

Ginny sighed. "My birthday," she said.

She didn't want to think about her birthday, other than the fact that she was looking forward to being allowed to practice magic whenever she wanted to. It would be nice to sign up for Apparition lessons, and it'd be a relief not to have to worry about getting her father in trouble when she stole a quick broom ride around the neighborhood on the occasional sleepless night. But those were the extent of her thoughts on the subject; she hadn't even planned on reminding anyone that the day was approaching, thinking instead that she'd spend it quietly working out in the garden, wand in hand. The family hadn't celebrated anything since Fred had died - not even pausing to notice that Harry had turned eighteen over the summer - and there surely was no need to make a fuss over her own coming of age.

"Your birthday," Harry repeated. He placed his wand down on the counter and drew Ginny into a hug. "We haven't talked about what you'd like to do," he said.

"Nothing," Ginny replied. She made a move to extract herself from Harry's warm arms, wanting the attention but also keen to end the conversation.

"Nothing?" Harry asked, not budging and speaking now into Ginny's hair, holding tightly to her as she squirmed. "You sure? You won't be disappointed if we all just go about our day and don't even bother with a cake or presents?"

Shaking her head, Ginny muttered softly, "This isn't the time for birthdays, Harry." She didn't want to hurt Harry's feelings, but she still missed her brother terribly, and her family was still so different. She wondered, as she felt a small kiss being placed on top of her head, when it would ever be okay to celebrate anything again. Christmas? "No," she thought, "that would be too soon."

"How about we go out then," Harry said, still speaking into Ginny's hair and causing chills to run through her. "Just you and I. We haven't ever done that, have we?"

Ginny moved again, and this time Harry released her. She looked up at his face and felt a tiny little wave of mild shock course through her brain. "We haven't, have we?" she said, incredulous. She and Harry, she realized, had been through the mill together and they hadn't really ever been out on a date. It was as if they had skipped over the whole "courting" thing and had landed right into the "helping each other survive another day" thing. She wondered, staring up at Harry, whether that this was an unhealthy place for a young relationship to be in.

"What have we been doing all this time?" Ginny asked, smiling slightly and taking in Harry's handsome face again as he smiled back down at her. She would never grow tired of being this close to Harry Potter, she mused. He had the nicest way of looking straight into her and she felt -- when he did this -- like the only other person on Earth.

She often sent off little private messages to the ten-year-old Ginny inside her memories to remind herself that she hadn't been such a fool after all, pining after her hero for all that time. "See Ginny," she thought, "he makes up for all those lonely afternoons you spent dreaming about him while he played chess with your stupid brother. Just look at him looking at you like this..."

"Fighting evil dark lords," Harry responded, bending down to give Ginny a peck on the lips and causing her to lick them in anticipation. It had been so long since they'd shared anything more intimate than the tickling and hand-holding, and she sometimes felt sick with the loss of it. "And you've been busy causing mayhem at school..." He kissed her again and drew back with a grin. "And then, well, things haven't exactly been normal, have they?"

"No," Ginny sighed. "No, they haven't been. But," she said, lifting her head toward her boyfriend and closing her eyes. She pressed her lips to Harry's full, soft mouth and tried to let him know that kisses were okay still. Death hadn't ruined everything, she thought, and she murmured a little grunt of frustration when he didn't let her in, pressing harder into Harry to make her point more clearly.

"But..." Harry asked, pulling back and removing his arms from Ginny's waist, looking over her shoulder toward the family room.

"But I'm not made of glass," she thought. "And I'm not a nun. And there's nobody in the stupid family room to see us kissing you dolt."

As Ginny fought to control her rising temper, knowing from experience that she'd regret it later if she allowed her thoughts to reach Harry's ears, she heard the back door swing open and she shrugged her shoulders in response. Ron and Hermione must have worked it out that Harry and Hermione were right, and they were coming to share the news. There would be no daring jaunt to exotic Australia; instead they were taking the sensible route and letting the ministry and the Aurors work things through. How wonderful.

Gliding over to the table, Ginny plopped down sloppily into her favorite, corner chair and she listened to her dolt of a boyfriend and his friends exchange ideas. Harry, Ron and Hermione eventually joined Ginny at the table and they talked for a while until they finally -- as Ginny knew they would -- agreed to wait another week or so before taking any action toward getting Hermione's parents on their own. Harry was going to see Kingsley again to make some inquiries. If things seemed in order, then they would let the system handle Hermione's parents, and the boys agreed to help Hermione do some research into memory recovery spells to help her prepare for the Grangers' return. If, however, the ministry was still in limbo after two weeks, then it would be time to listen to Ron's plan and they'd deal with the consequences when they came.

Uttered phrases spun around in Ginny's head as she sat there, half-listening to the others and half-lamenting over her own, tumultuous mood swings. She wondered abstractedly whether Ron and Hermione had ever been on a date and chewed on the question as she overheard bits and pieces of her brother's soft assurances to his girlfriend: saying that he was sure Australia was the safest of places, and that he knew for a fact that people always ate well there. No, Ginny decided, they probably hadn't. Ron was even more of a chivalrous prat than Harry, she'd be willing to bet, and he'd never make a move to advance their relationship while Hermione was distracted or hurting. Ginny glanced up at Hermione, who still wore a rather vacant expression, and gave her friend an encouraging smile.

"It'll be okay," she said. Hermione smiled back bravely and nodded.

"Ginny and I are going out for her birthday," Harry said, surprising Ginny with the sudden shift in conversation.

"I hadn't agreed to anything..." Ginny began, but she was quickly shushed by a swift hand movement and a burning look from Harry.

"Of course we are," he said, and he turned his attention to Ron. "Look, if we're going to Australia, then it would be best if we waited until after Ginny's birthday, so we'll plan on leaving on the twelfth if it comes to it." He reached a hand across the table and patted Hermione's arm. "We won't need to, I'm sure of it," he said. "I just wanted us to be prepared, that's all."

Hermione placed her free hand on top of Harry's. "Thanks," she said. "And Ginny..." Hermione raised her eyebrows and smiled at her friend -- this time with more conviction than the last. "You're going to be of age!" Ginny grimaced. "I almost forgot," Hermione continued in an older-sisterly manner and seeming rather relieved herself to have something different to think about for a moment. "We'll have a party here, won't we?"

Before Ginny could offer an opinion, she heard Harry answering for her and blinked. "We're going to have a night on the town," he said. "Muggle London, I think. No?" The question had been directed at herself and Ginny sat there, stunned and somewhat put off by Harry's lack of understanding. She didn't want to go out, she didn't need to have a night on the town, and there was nothing to celebrate. All she wanted was a normal kiss in one of the rarified moments when she wasn't thinking about how depressing everything had all become, didn't he get it?

"Right," Ron said. "So we leave on the twelfth...if the ministry doesn't produce Mr. and Mrs. Granger sooner."

"Well, I'm glad that's settled then," Hermione said. "I've got to get ready. Remenber, we're going into London again today to visit St. Gertrude's Recovery and Care Center."

"Right," Ron said, mechanically. No one much liked visiting any of the patients at St. Gertrude's, but this was always left unsaid. "I'd better change as well." He shuffled out of the kitchen behind Hermione and disappeared into the stairwell, leaving Ginny alone again with Harry.

"Sorry," Harry said, in what Ginny guessed was a preemptive strike against any arguments she may or may not have over the birthday arrangements. She felt her cheeks tighten and fought back a smile. "I just wanted to make sure that this whole "going to another hemisphere" thing didn't get in the way of us celebrating your big day."

Ginny frowned, the threatened smile dying as her cheek muscles slackened. There was that word again: "celebrate".

"If you're up to it," Harry was saying as he summoned his wand from the counter by the sink and directed it at the kitchen window to open the sash, "we could go out and have a proper dinner."

The air was stale outside, and cold for August, Ginny thought. She gazed out of the window at the stone driveway and pictured herself waiting at the end of it as Harry pulled up in a bright red convertible, waiting to take her out - Muggle style - on a real date. The image almost made her laugh: it was something that she'd pictured countless times in her adolescent past. Harry always did things in Muggle fashion in her daydreams back then; she didn't really know why except possibly because she'd heard as a very young girl that brave Harry Potter was being "raised by Muggles".

"Or if you're not," Harry added, turning to look out of the window as well, "that's fine too. We'll do whatever you like."

"That easy?" Ginny asked, smirking at Harry, having decided to be cordial about the whole thing. He nodded and she shook her head. "Well, yeah then. I guess we can go out."

Harry kept his gaze on the scene outside the window, biting his lip in silence for a few minutes before commenting quietly, "It's the Dementors."

"What?" Ginny asked. "Dementors, here?" She reached in to her pocket and drew out her wand - legalities be damned - and began the process of clearing her mind of bad thoughts, which were more than plentiful these days, in order to conjure her Patronus.

"No, not in the yard," Harry reassured. He reached a hand over the table and held Ginny's wand in check, his touch calming her instantly. "I meant in Ottery St. Catchpole, but not necessarily right here where we need to worry about them."

"Oh," Ginny said. She released some of the pressure on her wand, but did not pocket it yet.

"They're the reason we've had such crap weather," Harry continued. "Kingsley told me about the tracking they've done, and we've got at least fifty in the general area, but I haven't seen any near the house."

Ginny smiled. "You've been watching for us, haven't you?"

"Not just me," Harry replied. "People stop by on occasion from the Auror department, and your dad has an alarm of sorts." Ginny lifted an eyebrow and Harry continued, grinning now with pride over Mr. Weasley's cleverness. "It appears that the ghoul works as kind of a guard dog for Dementors. He can sense them from a mile or so back, and starts to make a ruckus if they get within that distance."

"We just have to listen for the ghoul to start acting up?"

"Well, yeah," Harry said. "If he gets panicky, just know that there may be a Dementor in the yard."

"And," Ginny said, "why didn't I know about this before?"

Harry shrugged. "I guess it never came up?" Pushing himself up from his chair, Harry gave a last glance at the window and then stretched. "I'd better get ready too. They'll be releasing a few more patients today, and I want to see if it's anyone we know."

"Right," Ginny said, sighing. "I'll be up in a sec." She took another moment to stare out into the front yard and looked for the telltale fog of Dementors and their disgusting mating rituals. Nothing was visible from where she sat, but it wasn't hard to imagine them out there somewhere, adding to everyone's misery and feeding off of their despair. Ginny hated the fact that some foul creatures glided happily along, growing stronger when humans suffered such gut-wrenching pain. It was another of those "things" that she filed away in her bank of incomprehensible "things", and she gave her head a shake to ready herself for yet another trip to the hospital.