Sunshine or Shadows

Chapter 6. Of Parents and Sacrifices

"It isn't as if I hadn't expected this," Hermione said. She and Mrs. Weasley were sharing a cup of tea in the kitchen and talking over news of the swift and reportedly uneventful return of her parents to the United Kingdom. Mr. Weasley had just left, having Apparated home to tell Hermione in person that the Auror task force had not only located the Grangers, but had already released their spells and brought them back to St. Mungo's for observation. Though everyone had expected that the task force would be able to quickly locate the Grangers, it still came as a shock to hear that they had, in fact, succeeded.

Molly took a sip of her tea and stalled for time: Apparently, Jack and Charlotte Granger were not the least bit pleased to have been rendered useless and daughterless while Hermione camped out all over Great Britain with two teenage boys and put herself in great danger, and Molly was trying very hard to keep the fact that she rather agreed with the other couple from coming through as she spoke with the girl.

"Of course you did, dear," she said, noncommittally.

"I mean," Hermione continued, tapping her finger on the delicate porcelain saucer and shaking her head slightly as she spoke, as if she were developing a nervous tick, "I had no choice, of course, but there is no arguing with the fact that I used my position as a witch...my powers...to make a pretty major life decision for them. They can't be happy with that."

"You think they might feel taken advantage of?" Molly asked. "Because they are Muggles?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes."

"And, that they won't be too happy with your decision to have taken this particular fight on for yourself?"

"Well..." Hermione said.

Molly knew that she'd stuck in a little jab, and felt a smidgeon of guilt for it. She smiled and shook her head, letting the girl know that she didn't expect an answer, that those decisions were in the past now, and there would be no rehashing of old arguments. "It may take some time, dear, but they'll come to understand soon enough that you are a very brave and very resourceful witch in your own right. Eventually, I'm sure, they'll come to realize that if you hadn't gone with Harry and," she paused, "Ron...then we'd still be living in dreadful fear and they would still be in Australia."

"In exile," Hermione said, twitching her nose a bit as her mouth curled up in a slight smile.

"Yes, well," Molly returned, "there are far worse places to be sent to live out an early retirement, I expect." She smiled at the girl across from her. Hermione, she suspected, may not yet realize just how upset her parents were likely to be. It may sound well and good to say that they were protected for their own good, and that wizardkind was in their daughter's debt, but Molly knew that this was no solace to good parents. No woman or man who ever mothered or fathered a sweet baby girl would ever be content to let that girl risk so much as a fingernail to save themselves. Hermione, in the interest of saving the Grangers from the very real possibility of capture, interrogation and torture, had taken away something that was so basic and human that there could be no doubting it would take time to overcome the loss of it; she had taken away their right to be the ones to do the sacrificing, and had almost taken away the most sacred of parental entitlements: the right to die first.

"They'd always spoken fondly of Australia, so I thought..." Hermione said. She took a sip of her tea and turned her gaze toward the open window. A few birds could be heard chirping in the giant oaks and elms that sheltered the Burrow's front entrance. "I just hope they found work there...that they haven't already gone through their retirement savings or anything like that." She sighed. "I don't know what I was supposed to have done, Mrs. Weasley. They'd have been killed, I know it."

Something in the way this girl carried herself struck a chord of fondness with Molly. She watched Hermione choke down her emotions, letting a tear escape before clearing her throat and straightening in her chair. This girl was quite brilliant - uncommonly so, Molly thought - but also had a heart as big as Hagrid's. It was no wonder that Ron was so taken with the witch; he had a rather big heart himself, her youngest son, and was always quick to notice and admire what was worth noticing and admiring in others.

"I'm sure they've done well," Molly soothed. "You altered their memories, after all, not their intellect."

With that last attempt at offering a bit of support, she got up from the table and busied herself in the scullery, filling the huge copper kettle with water and setting it to boil with the customary spells. Ron and Harry hadn't yet risen, from what she could tell, and she'd heard Ginny heading for the bathroom only ten or so minutes ago. Molly had been skiving off cooking duties, more or less, since Fred had died, but thought that everyone could do with a large breakfast and a hearty soup later on in the day, given Hermione's news and another trip to the hospital ahead of them.

When Ginny finished with her shower, she tightened her old plaid, flannel dressing gown around her waist and opened the door to peek out. She had forgotten to bring a change of clothes with her and wanted desperately to avoid being seen in the frumpy gown. While she listened for sounds of life from the boys' room upstairs, she noticed that somebody was talking in the kitchen below. "It must be late," she thought, "if everyone's eating already." Thinking of the kitchen and imagining a large plate of sausages, piles of toast and a huge jug of pumpkin juice standing at the ready, she looked down at her stomach and gave it a little pat, feeling hungry despite the late dinner she had shared with Harry in London last night.

"Ginny!"

Ron had flung open his bedroom door and appeared at the top of the stairs, calling her attention as he jumped the first few steps toward the shared bathroom.

"Good, you're out."

"Nice to see you too," she said, making a face and standing aside so that Ron could have access to the door once he'd reached it.

"Hi, Ginny," Harry said quietly from the top of the stairs. His hair was sticking up in a thousand different directions, as she'd seen it on countless occasions, and he was wearing an oversized, wrinkly t-shirt over flannel boxers. Ginny looked down at her own appearance and cursed the Burrow for not having enough bathrooms to give a witch a proper amount of dignity and privacy in the morning.

"Hi," she said. She wanted to add, "I've been thinking about you since I woke up an hour ago," but didn't. Harry probably wouldn't know what to do with such knowledge even if she did blurt it out one of these days: It wouldn't do to scare the boy too much, she thought. Instead, she pointed at the bottom of the stairs and said simply, "Thought you were already down there. I heard voices."

Harry leaned over the railings and closed his eyes for a few seconds, listening. "Hermione and your mum," he said. "I heard your father's voice earlier as well, but I think he's gone back to the Ministry."

"So, you've been up?" Ginny asked, wondering if perhaps Harry had been lying in his bed too, replaying the spicier bits of their date at the very same time that she had been. Wonderful moments didn't seem to come by too often in life, Ginny had observed over the years, and she liked to take the time to play them over and over again to etch them deeply into her brain so they would not soon be forgotten. She had a few favorites that she like to recall from time to time, to keep them fresh, and had a strong suspicion that they would all be replaced, sooner or later, with memories of treasured moments with Harry.

"Yeah, Ron's snoring usually does the trick," Harry said.

The door behind Ginny opened and Ron popped his head out, dressed in a towel that was wrapped around his waist. "Mind if I shower first, mate?" he asked.

"Sure," Harry called down. "Just let me in to brush my teeth first."

Ginny stood aside again, watching Harry as he came down the stairs. He brushed lightly against her while he exchanged places with Ron in the bathroom and she smiled as he covered his mouth in an effort to spare her from being subjected to unpleasant, morning breath. She blew her own minty breath at him in jest.

"Ugh," Harry teased, scrunching his nose. "Next time, brush before you do that."

"Harry," Ginny yelled into the door as he escaped, ignoring sneers from Ron, who was hovering nearby in his towel and waiting to return to the bathroom. Ron had been particularly keen to keep clean and tidy this summer, fighting often with Ginny over the use of the Burrow's lone shower. If she hadn't been so attached to Hermione, in fact, Ginny would be counting the days for the girl's departure so she could once again be the only Weasley who spent any amount of time in bathroom in the morning.

The three late-risers eventually all made it down to the kitchen and joined a distracted Hermione while Mrs. Weasley tended to a large skillet full of breakfast sausages. Ginny poured a glass of pumpkin juice for herself and watched some bits of pulp swirling around the top surface as the liquid came to rest. She used her spoon to remove the pulp and took a sip, smiling up at Hermione and Harry.

"You're in a good mood," Hermione said, smirking a little. "Must have been some date last night."

Harry grinned back at his friend. "Don't act so surprised," he said over a copy of the Daily Prophet. "It's been known to occur."

"Since when?" Ron interjected. "Are you referring to going to Hogsmeade with Cho, the blubberer or when Luna accompanied you to that Christmas party of Slughorn's?" He laughed and ducked just in time to avoid a hex that Harry had thrown, but winced when Ginny pinched him sharply on the arm.

"Oh, wait!" Ron continued; his wand out now. "I know...you must be referring to the Yule Ball!"

Hermione gave a stern, sharp-eyed look that effectively shut Ron up and caused Ginny to giggle. She knew that her brother would be wise to avoid reminiscences of Yule Balls himself as well as any references to the disastrous months he'd spent locking lips with Lavender Brown while poor Hermione suffered. As a matter of fact, Ginny thought, the four of them would be quite well served if someone came and erased their dating and yearning histories on the spot. There wasn't much there to be able to happily look back upon.

"I heard Mr. Weasley earlier," Harry said, breaking the ice. "What did he want?"

Releasing Ron from her deathly stare, Hermione turned to Harry and shook her head. Ginny couldn't determine from this gesture whether there would be good news or bad, and leaned forward on the table, grabbing her pumpkin juice with both hands and giving Hermione her full attention.

"They've got my parents. They're in St. Mungo's now, recovering."

"That's brilliant!" Ron said. "Hermione, that's fantastic news!"

'It is good, isn't it?" Ginny asked. She couldn't help but notice the lack of any signs of celebration in her friend's demeanor and detected uneasiness instead. "Hermione, what's wrong?"

Hermione shook her head again, lifting her eyes to Ron's. "They don't want to see me yet," she said. "The lead Auror on the recovery task force...a witch named Shwartz or something...she told your father that 'the Grangers would like some time to come to terms with the situation,' and dismissed his offer to bring me to them."

Harry set down his newspaper and patted Hermione's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Hermione," he said. "They'll come around, you know that. Just give them a day or two to remember their old life."

"They can't stay mad forever," Ron added, dropping his toast on its plate and walking over to Hermione to give her a hug from behind. He stretched his long arms around the high-backed Windsor chair and rested his chin on her head, adding thoughtfully, "Don't worry. We'll get you through this. Before long you'll be together and back to bickering, like any normal family."

A hand brushed Ginny's leg and she looked down to see that Harry was trying to get her attention, letting her know that she'd been caught gawking at her brother and Hermione again. It would take time to get used to "the new Ron", and she was glad that her boyfriend had a natural sense of tact, letting her know when it was time to leave the couple, change the subject, or just to stop staring. She smiled at Harry and pursed her lips, mouthing, "Mister Sensitive," and received a playful squeeze on her leg in response.

It took two more days before Mr. Weasley was finally able to deliver the news to Hermione that the Grangers were ready to see her. In that time, she had grown tense with worry, revisiting her decision to put a memory charm on her parents almost hourly and pointlessly explaining the logic that had led her to do it to anyone who would listen. It was a relief to everyone at the Burrow when Hermione and Ron left together to visit the Grangers in St. Mungo's, Apparating from the back yard by the oak tree just as they had a year ago.

Ginny and Harry stayed out in the yard for most of the afternoon, racing each other on old brooms from the shed while Mrs. Weasley had tea and pastries with Andromeda Tonks, who had brought little Teddy over to the Burrow for a visit. She had arrived late in the morning in a huge, wood-paneled, Muggle station wagon, saying that she wanted to take Teddy out into the country while the weather was still fair.

It was nothing short of amazing, to Ginny, that Remus's and Tonks' little boy had grown and changed so much since she'd last seen him at his parents' funeral, reminding her quite painfully that life outside the Burrow was carrying on as it always had. As those who knew and loved Teddy's parents worked to process the fact that two such capable wizards had lost their lives in battle, the boy had learned to hold his tiny head up as steady as a fence post, seemed to have doubled in size, and even flashed an enchanting, full-faced smile when he grabbed Harry's glasses from him.

Flying high over the yard, Ginny felt Harry's broom overtake her own with a derisive "whoosh" and she pulled up to a stop, hovering and furrowing her brow. She had won the faster of the brooms in their coin toss and was growing increasingly frustrated each time Harry managed to beat her even so, as they challenged each other to ten-lap races around the orchard.

"You're not leaning in tight enough," Harry offered. "Try and keep your chin almost parallel with the broomstick and get in low."

Ginny scowled. Harry was losing some of his appeal this afternoon and she was biting her tongue to keep from shouting at him as he continued to dole out unwanted advice. "My chin is parallel," she said.

"It almost is, but just bring it down a little bit more," Harry returned, grinning and showing off handsome dimples. "I promise you'll feel a difference. Just try it, okay?"

"Yeah," Ginny returned and she pulled into position to race again. Harry hollered out a countdown and she concentrated on holding her broom back until she heard him shout, "Go!" This time, despite her annoyance with him, she decided to bend a little lower and to pay more attention to how she positioned her face with respect to the broom. Her hair was being pulled back by the strong air current she was creating and she leaned down until her breasts were touching the broom handle, feeling both scared and excited by the new position. She felt unsteady, but she could tell that she had picked up some speed.

After nine laps, Ginny and Harry were racing neck and neck and Ginny felt a surge of adrenaline heightening her senses and boosting her confidence. "You're toast, Potter," she was chanting inside her head as she tightened her grip for the final lap. Ginny always found flying so fast to be mentally exhausting. The broom rider needed to control their pitch and yaw, pay attention to altitude as well as velocity, and also had to keep a sharp eye out for other flyers. In a game, there would be Bludgers and bats to deal with as well, but today there was only the blue-green streak that was Harry, flying beside her with his head bent so low over his broom that, from the side, he looked to be a part of it.

They sped past the tallest line of trees - which marked the finish line - with brooms lined up perfectly with each other and Ginny felt the blood rush out of her veins as she pulled up to a stop. "We've tied," she said, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

"Yeah," Harry panted. "It's a tie." He dropped down a few feet and pointed toward the back porch, where they'd earlier brought a pitcher of lemonade and some glasses in case they got thirsty. "Want to take a break, or are you going to be a sore loser?"

"I didn't lose," Ginny scoffed. "It was a tie."

"Right, so can I have a drink or do I have to wait for you to win first?"

Ginny angled down and landed, letting her broom fall to the ground as she leaned over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She heard Harry land and collect her broom, sending it as well as his own to their shed and extending a hand out for Ginny to shake.

"Good race, yeah?" Harry said.

"Good race," Ginny said, grinning and ignoring the hand. "I'll beat you some day, you just wait."

Harry chuckled. "Then I'll just have to enjoy this period of one-upsmanship while it lasts, won't I?"

They sat together on the porch and downed a full glass of lemonade each before speaking again. "That was scary," Ginny said at last, thinking of her wiggly broom feeling like it was going to buckle under her weight as she'd pushed its boundaries.

"You're not scared of anything," Harry said, looking directly at Ginny and blinking in the sun's rays. Behind his glasses, Harry's black eyelashes caught Ginny's attention and she watched him blink them again, as if she was viewing it in slow motion. "That's what's so amazing about you," Harry continued. "As much as I wished you would have never gotten involved in the battles during the war, I couldn't help but be impressed to see you in action - like nothing alarmed or frightened you, like you could do anything if you wanted to." He refilled their glasses and handed one to Ginny, staring now at her mouth as she drank hers down.

"How'd you get to be so brave, Ginny Weasley?" he asked.

Ginny fought back a blush and felt herself squirming under Harry's gaze. "I'm not so brave," she muttered. He was still watching her closely, eyes directed at her lips, and she wiped her mouth just in case there were a few drops of lemonade left behind on them. "I'm competitive," she said, "there's a difference."

"No," Harry said, "you are the bravest witch I know." He flickered his eyes toward the house and then leaned in for a kiss.

It was cool outside, as it had been all summer, but Ginny was quite warm from flying, and she felt herself becoming even warmer with Harry's kisses. His lips were hot and he tasted like lemonade, which was just how Ginny thought August kisses should taste. She was contemplating asking him to move onto the porch swing when she heard voices in the family room and felt Harry giving her his "ending kiss": In their brief experiences so far, Ginny had already noticed that Harry liked to end any snog session by waiting for her to close her lips and sort of capturing them in his mouth for a brief second before releasing them with a tiny smooch. It must be his unconscious way of putting a feeling of finality to the session, she mused...of letting her know that they would be moving on to other things now, no more kissing for Ginny.

She pouted as Harry scooted a half-foot away from her and tried to look busy with his almost empty glass of lemonade. Ginny's mum and Mrs. Tonks were bustling about in the family room now, and Ginny could hear the wailing protests of little Teddy, who was probably being stuffed inside his car carrier for the trip home.

For no reason she could think of, Ginny said, "Your mum. She was the bravest witch you'll ever know." Ginny tried not to wince, and kept her eyes focused on the back door. She and Harry had never talked about his parents, she now realized, and she wasn't sure how welcome her off-the-wall comment would be.

"She was..." Harry began. "She was brave."

"I grew up listening to the stories, Harry, about the brave young Potters - only a little bit older than ourselves - who stood in front of He Who Must Not Be Named and took a Killing Curse while trying to save their little boy. I used to think that I'd like to be that brave someday, like Lilly."

"That was what did it," Harry said. "Voldemort was almost destroyed because of a powerful, old bit of magic having to do with my mum's sacrifice."

Ginny waited for a moment, unable to stop herself before adding, "You made the very same sacrifice, Harry, for all of us. Didn't you?"

Harry bit his lip and didn't respond.

"Harry," Ginny said, hoping not to sound too emotional, "we haven't really talked about the Battle of Hogwarts and what went on in the woods there with Voldemort and his cronies, but I know that he thought you were dead. And, I know that you wouldn't have died and left us there to fight all alone, I just know it. What you said to him in your last duel - it took a while to sink in, but I think I understand it now. It meant that you had already chosen to give up your life for us, didn't it?"

In her mind, Ginny was watching the scene again: Harry and Voldemort were walking, circling some invisible point in the center of the Great Hall, and taunting each other like madmen while she watched helplessly from where she stood, along with the others. She remembered the urge she had felt to throw her body between the two...to stand in the nucleus of their battle ritual and throw up her hands in an absurd and desperate attempt to stop what looked to be inevitable. Even today, Ginny didn't quite know what had kept her from doing it. Had it been a hidden trace of cowardice showing its colors after nearly an hour of battling that had worn her down? Was it a fear of death? Perhaps, she thought, it was the notion that Harry himself would curse her grave if she joined in with the growing pile of people who he loved and who also had died...Perhaps she knew that hers might just be the one loss that Harry Potter would not be able to recover from.

Teddy continued to wail in the family room and Ginny had to stop her interrogation when the back door flew open and Andromeda Tonks struggled through it, loaded up like a pack mule with coats and baby items and carrying her wand at the ready. Mrs. Tonks had told Ginny and Harry earlier that it wasn't uncommon to encounter a pack of Dementors in a drive through the country, and she never let her guard down out of doors.

Harry jumped to his feet to take a large nappy bag from her and led the witch and her crying grandson over to their station wagon, helping to get the child strapped in. Ginny watched from the porch steps as the car pulled away, giving a wave and blowing a kiss to Teddy, although she knew he would never see it from his car seat. When Harry and her mum returned to the porch, Ginny stood up and collected the lemonade glasses and pitcher, taking them to the kitchen sink and cleaning in silence.

"You can use a wand now, you know?" Harry whispered from behind her. "Of course," she thought, "how could I forget? " She reached into her jeans and drew out her wand, cleaning, drying and putting away the load in a series of swift motions.

"I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "I shouldn't have kept talking like that. I promised myself a long time ago that I'd let you fill me in when the time was right."

Harry put an arm around her shoulder and rested his head on hers. "It's been months," he said, speaking in a calm, low voice. "Anyone should be expected to be able to talk now, yeah? Why don't we go down in the basement where it's quiet, and I'll answer anything you want to know."

Several hours later, Ginny sat on an old lawn chair cushion on the floor of the basement's storage room beside Harry. She was completely in awe, with her mouth threatening to fall open and her heart racing inside of her ribcage. It was difficult to imagine what Harry must have felt like, walking out of Hogwarts and knowing that he was going to die, and Ginny herself was filling up with rage and hatred toward Dumbledore for leading him to it. She didn't care about the war or Voldemort or Elder wands and their masters...all she could think of was that Harry - her Harry - had willingly left her on that day, and seemed only to have come back by something that amounted to circumstances and luck.

A hot tear ran down her cheek and Ginny recalled the ugly, petrified bouquet of four-leaf clovers that she'd given him on the day he left, so many months ago. It was absurd to think it, but she half wondered whether the little clovers did possess some magic after all. So many parts of Harry's story added up to his surviving by a toss of the coin: whether the Elder wand belonged to him after all, whether the sacrifice would work.

"Well, then," she said, "that wins you the prize for being the bravest." She wiped the tear from her face and sniffed. "I just can't believe how close I came to losing you."

"I didn't want to die," Harry whispered softly. "You know that right?"

Ginny nodded. "You did what you felt you had to."

They sat for a few more minutes, breathing deeply and collecting their thoughts before heading back upstairs for dinner. Ginny helped her mum float a large bowl of soup and a plate of sliced bread over to the table and watched an owl fly up to the kitchen window to deliver the post.

"Ginny," her mum said after retrieving a scroll and paying the bird. "It's for you, from Hogwarts."

Ginny scanned the letter and rolled her eyes. She was being informed by the new Headmistress, who's signature revealed her to be Abigale Tuttle of whom Ginny had never heard before - that classes were rearranged this year to accommodate any student, like herself, who would require catching up due to the war and was being assured that she should expect to be sitting with her fellow students for her N.E.W.T.s by spring. Two attachments were rolled up with the letter: one was her list of school supplies and the other was a note from Professor McGonagall, letting her know that she was chosen to be captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team this year.

"What does it say, dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked as she sat down opposite her husband at the dinner table.

"Who cares," Ginny replied, wondering what possible difference it would make whether she graduated on time or who captained the stupid Quidditch team. Harry's stories had reminded Ginny about how completely awful things really were back at Hogwarts last year, and though it would undoubtedly be better this year, the place still served as the background against which so many final scenes played themselves out: her brother, Teddy's parents, Colin, a girl she knew from Hufflepuff and about fifty others. And Harry. Harry, if one were being accurate, had strode through its halls on some mission to fulfill a stupid prophesy, thinking he was going to get himself killed in the process.

No, she thought, Hogwarts wasn't ever going to be a place to get excited about again as far as she was concerned.