For Your Love

A/N: My notes didn't post correctly on Chapter 1, so I'll put them in here...

This is a 25-chapter novel that I've just completed writing. I wanted to wait until it was done before I posted it anywhere, and now it's ready! I realize that it may seem odd that I'm posting a pre-HBP novel now, but the first half of it was already written before HBP was released. It is a 7th Year fic, but does not take HBP into account.

I'm planning to post a new chapter each week, or as often as FA will let me. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

Dedicated to Bret, my lovely beta, who asked all the right questions. I couldn't have done it without you.

Chapter 2 - Finding a Place

Ginny sat up on her bed and closed her book, which she had been staring at without really reading ever since she had heard the car rumbling down the drive. He was here. Not only was he here, he was living here. She had forced herself to stay in her room until she heard her brother calling, knowing that Harry wasn't one for fanfare; he would want some time to settle in before being pounced on. She sighed. Harry.

Her pulse quickened and she chastised herself. The vestiges of her childhood crush on The Boy Who Lived had long since faded, but there was still an admiration there, a longing to know him, that had never really left her. She had fought along with him in the Department of Mysteries, confronted him about her experience of being possessed and reminded him of the unique trials they had shared, but still he had been reluctant to let her in, and she had resolved that she would not fall under his spell again but would only offer her friendship as much as he needed or wanted it.

When she had finally given up on ever attracting his attentions in her third year, she had opened herself up to the possibilities of other boys. Neville had been so sweet to take her to the Yule Ball, and it was there that she met her first real boyfriend, Michael Corner. She had welcomed the chance to get to know Michael, who was a year older than she and a Ravenclaw. So unlike Harry, he had made her feel wanted, had taught her how to kiss and brought out the Ginny that she had been before she met Harry - carefree, sharp-tongued and girlish. She and Michael had shared secret glances, and he made her heart flutter. But in the end, it hadn't been enough, and after a year they had drifted apart, becoming increasingly disenchanted with each other. Different houses, different friends. Ginny stealing the snitch from under Cho Chang's nose at the Ravenclaw match had been the last straw, and when he had berated her and said that Cho was clearly the better player, she had dumped him in a fit of disgust. She had been angry at his pettiness, but also a little relieved to be free of him.

And then the war had begun. The battle at the Department of Mysteries had brought her feelings for Harry back in a flood; his strength, his resolve, his pain reminding her of why she loved him. Throughout the next year, safe inside the walls of Hogwarts, she had watched Harry wrap himself in grief and anger as outside, the Order of the Phoenix and the Ministry fought valiantly against the ever-increasing threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

But at Christmas he had appeared to turn a corner. They had shared a quiet walk by the stream and after that, he had seemed to be more himself, loving Quidditch again, joining in their common room chats and trips to the library. But Ginny could feel that he was still hurting. She knew that she was peripheral, a constant in the network of people who supported him and understood him, but not more to him than anyone else.

And now, he was here.

She checked herself in the mirror, running her fingers through her thick, ginger hair.

"You look lovely dear, like an apple blossom on a warm spring day," the oval mirror above her dresser said liltingly. Ginny rolled her eyes and allowed herself a small smile. She had never thought of herself as being particularly pretty, but her mother had enchanted the mirror when she was a little girl to pay her sweet compliments, and she had grown used to the sentiments.

She entered the kitchen casually just as Ron was telling Harry that he would be staying in Bill's old room, which was just below Ron's. They had discussed it as a family and decided that it was only right that Harry should have his own room if he was to be living here now. Bill rarely visited the Burrow these days anyway.

"Harry, you're here!"

Harry looked up from his plate and smiled. It felt right to see him sitting there in her kitchen. This was where he belonged, not with those horrible relatives of his. Her eyes lit up and she gave him her brightest smile. He stood, greeting her with a friendly hug and a "Hi, Gin" before resuming his breakfast.

"Mum's filling you up already? Better get used to it," she grinned and took a seat, snatching a piece of toast from the center of the table. "Happy Birthday!"

"Fanks," he said through a mouthful of food.

When he had finished, Ron said, "Come up and see your room." The three of them climbed the stairs, past Ginny's room, to the fourth landing where Ron opened the door on the left, across from Charlie's old room. Harry stepped into the small room that looked out over the walled garden. Most of Bill's things were long since gone, but the room was comfortable with a twin bed covered with one of Mrs. Weasley's crocheted afghans, a writing desk and a small bookshelf. The walls were bare except for two large, orange Chudley Cannons posters that Ron had donated from his room.

Ron and Ginny watched nervously from the doorway, hoping Harry would like it. "Thought they'd brighten up the place a bit," Ron said as Harry watched the Cannons swooping and diving in and out of view.

"Thanks guys. It's perfect."

Ron smiled. "We'll let you unpack then. C'mon Gin," he said as he headed back downstairs.

Ginny lingered for a moment. "Harry?" He turned to her expectantly. "We're really glad you're here."

The corners of his mouth lifted in a soft smile. "Me too."

Ginny clicked the door shut behind her. But instead of unpacking, Harry sat on the bed and just rested in the comfort of home. For a long time.

* * *

The day Harry had arrived at the Burrow, Mrs. Weasley had given a small birthday party for him that evening after dinner, complete with cake and presents. The elder Weasleys had presented him with a new set of everyday robes, black with silver trim, and had told him it was something they had done with all of their sons when they turned seventeen, giving them their first set of non-school robes. He had been deeply touched, not least because he knew that purchasing new clothing was a special occurrence in the Weasley household, having witnessed Ron's hand-me-down wardrobe for years. He recalled that Ron had received a similar set on his birthday a few months before.

Ron had given him two tickets to a Chudley Cannons home match later that week, so they could both go together. Ginny had given him a long-sleeved, orange Cannons shirt, completing the package, and after much cajoling and pleading from her, they had agreed to let her to tag along to the match as well. And so it was that Harry found himself tumbling out of the fireplace into the Chudley Cannons Stadium welcoming area on a Saturday afternoon, joining Ron and Ginny who were brushing themselves off.

The boys waited while Ginny bought her ticket, then followed the sea of orange shirts and banners to their upper level seats on the Cannons' side, front row, in the middle of the pitch. Across the field, enchanted bats swayed on sticks as fans for the opposing Ballycastle Bats took their seats.

"The Bats are 3 for 3 so far, but I reckon we can still beat them as long as Gudgeon can spot the Snitch first," said Ron hopefully. Harry, who was sitting in the middle, turned to Ginny and raised his eyebrow. She shook her head with a just-humor-him look and offered him a Fizzing Whizbee. Harry only supported the Cannons out of loyalty to Ron, despite their losing record. But he had never seen the Bats play and was interested to see their new Seeker, Finn Langley.

The match began with the Cannons unexpectedly scoring twice in a row, bringing the crowd to their feet. They whooped and clapped as Ron leaned toward Harry and shouted, "Told you they'd do alright!" Laughing and shouting, they were oblivious to a soft clicking sound coming from the Press Box, located directly across the field from them.

Their victory was short-lived, however, as the Bats quickly recovered and outscored the Cannons two to one for the remainder of the match. Mercifully, Langley caught the Snitch within an hour and the Bats won, 290-70.

As they gathered their things and made their way back toward the queue for the Floo, Harry turned to Ron. "Thanks for the tickets. Sorry we lost though."

Ron shrugged. "Eh, you win some, you lose some."

Harry turned to Ginny and whispered, "Mostly lose some." Ginny stifled a giggle and swatted his arm.

"Very funny," Ron scowled.

* * *

Harry came down to breakfast the next morning in his pajama bottoms and t-shirt, as seemed to be the custom in the Weasley household. Ginny and Mrs. Weasley were the only ones in the kitchen, Mr. Weasley having already left for work and Ron not up and about yet.

"Morning," he said sleepily and dropped into a chair.

Ginny and her mother glanced at each other. Ginny gestured to Harry, but her mother shook her head and busied herself at the stove.

"What," Harry said, looking back and forth between them.

"Show him, mum," Ginny said. But Mrs. Weasley ignored her and carried a frying pan over to Harry.

"Show me what?" he said anxiously. "Something's happened."

"Of course not dear," she said, piling eggs onto his plate. "Bacon?" Harry looked to Ginny.

"Honestly, Mum, he'll see it eventually."

"Ginny," her mother warned.

Ginny sighed. "There's a bit about you in the Prophet this morning, but mum doesn't want you to see it."

"Ginevra Molly!"

"Mum, you're making a big deal out of nothing. Just show him!"

With an exasperated look at her daughter, Molly withdrew the Daily Prophet from her apron pocket and set it on the table, clucking under her breath, "It's not right... a boy of your age... they should just leave you alone... you've already been through so much."

It took a moment for Harry to register what he was looking at, but then his jaw clenched. Staring back at him from the front page was his own smiling face, along with Ron's and Ginny's, at the previous day's Quidditch match. They were standing at their seats, cheering and clapping, and every few seconds Ron leaned over and spoke into Harry's ear. The caption under the photo read:

Harry Potter, 17, takes time out to enjoy a Quidditch match yesterday with friends Ron and Virginia Weasley.

"They've got your name wrong," he said to Ginny absently, but his fingers tightened on the paper, betraying how angry he was that some photographer had managed to snap a photo of them without his knowledge. His eyes traveled to the accompanying article titled "Harry Potter Comes Of Age." He scanned it, repeating some of the phrases under his breath. "Boy Who Lived... last year at Hogwarts... Gryffindor Quidditch Captain... He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ... constant companions... Looks like they've got me covered, doesn't it. My life in a nutshell." He continued to read in silence until he reached the end. "We wish him well in his future... Oh, that's alright then, as long as they're wishing me well."

He tossed the paper onto the table and picked up his fork, holding it suspended over his eggs, lost in thought. Ginny's mother gave her a reproachful look.

"Harry, it's just a silly article," Ginny said quietly.

"Is this how it's going to be then, every time I go out someone will be lurking in the corner, snapping my picture?" Harry asked, staring at his plate.

Ginny tried to sound reassuring. "Not necessarily. It was probably one of the photographers who was already there to cover the match, and he just spotted you in the crowd."

"Of course not." Mrs. Weasley sat down next to him and patted his shoulder. "You've just come of age, people are interested to know what you're doing. Especially now that..." Her voice faltered. "It will die down, don't you worry."

"Dumbledore warned me about this."

"He did?" Ginny asked, surprised.

He nodded. "End of last term, about the Press having access to me. I just didn't think it would be so soon." He picked at his eggs and finally set down his fork. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Weasley, I'm not very hungry just now."

"Quite alright, dear."

He pushed back his chair and stood up just as Ron came down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Hey look, our picture's in the paper!" he exclaimed, picking up the Prophet.

Harry gestured to his untouched plate. "Knock yourself out," he muttered and headed upstairs to his room.

"What's with him?"

"Your powers of perception are astounding, Ron," Ginny snapped as she rose to follow Harry up the stairs.

Ron shrugged, sat down in Harry's vacated seat, and began shoveling eggs into his mouth.

Ginny reached Harry's closed door and stood in front of it. She knew he didn't like to be singled out for being the Boy Who Lived, but she wasn't going to let him wallow in this. Maybe if he could just blow off some steam...

"Harry?" she called.

"I'm okay, Gin, really."

"I know. It's just that mum wants us to degnome the garden later, so let me know when you want to go out." She waited for his response, but none came. "Alright?" she called again.

Harry stared at the door, feeling a sense of relief that she wasn't trying to coddle him. Actually, throwing gnomes over a garden wall sounded like just what he needed.

"Yeah, I'll be right down."

Half an hour later they were in the garden, both dressed in grubby clothes. Harry crouched next to a gnome hole and thumped on the ground with a large stick like Ginny had shown him. He didn't have to wait long before a small, gnarled creature stuck his head out of the hole to see what all the noise was about. He lifted the gnome by the ears and stood, grabbing its legs and twirling it around his head twice before letting it fly over the low wall and into the field.

"Oh, come on, even I can throw farther than that," Ginny challenged as she hurled another over the wall, landing it a good ten feet beyond Harry's. "Swing them good and hard."

Harry watched her, tossing the hair from her face and brushing off her dirty hands. She looked so vibrant with her flushed cheeks and taunting smile. Not to be outdone, he chased another gnome and tackled it, perhaps a bit more harshly than necessary, swung it around and flung it so hard into the field that it stood up, wobbled briefly, and fell back down again. He felt the adrenaline begin to pump through his veins.

"That's it!" Ginny yelled. She stepped back and left him to it, watching his quick reflexes as he snatched them, one by one, each flying farther than the last.

Ron came out of the kitchen door, fresh from a shower, and stood next to Ginny. "Need any help?"

She held up her hand and shook her head. "Shh. Just let him do it."

"What's he doing?"

"Just a bit of gnome therapy."

"Ah, yes, gnome therapy," said Ron appreciatively. He had used it himself many times. Having raised seven children, Molly Weasley had become adept at finding useful ways to channel teenage aggressions over the years. "Was he really upset about that article?"

"I don't think so," Ginny sighed as another gnome soared through the air. "He just needed something to take his mind off it."

Ron glanced sideways at his sister. She had always had an uncanny ability to know how people felt and what they needed, when to push and when to back off. But he thought that Harry had fallen off her radar over the past few years since she had given up her crush on him. Apparently, she had been paying more attention than he realized.

Harry tossed the last one over the wall and looked up to see Ginny and Ron surveying him. He wiped the back of his hand across his forehead and plucked at his sweaty shirt. His back ached, but his mind was clear, the fresh air and exertion filling him with a rush.

"Quite a workout, isn't it?" grinned Ron.

"Felt good though," said Harry, walking over to them. He noted Ginny's satisfied look.

Back in the house, Ginny started up the stairs to her room. Harry mumbled something to Ron about taking a shower and followed her. He caught her up on the third landing, pausing with his hand on the bathroom door across from her room.

"Gin..." She turned in her doorway and waited. "Thanks. I needed that."

She smiled and said, "You're welcome."

* * *

Grey clouds darkened the sky a few days later as Harry and Ron stood in the living room, contemplating their morning chores. Now that he was a more permanent member of the family, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had made it clear that Harry would be expected to function as a member of the family as well.

This morning, he and Ron had been charged with cleaning the large fireplace that the Weasleys used for Floo travel. Ron showed him how to use the Scourgify spell to clear away the soot, but owing to Harry's unfamiliarity with the finer points of housecleaning spells, he put a bit more force behind it than necessary. The black powder blew into the room, covering them and the carpet in a dirty layer of ash.

"Listen," said Ron, his blue eyes shining out from his blackened face, "you have to learn how to do this because mum's going to blame me if you don't."

"Then why don't you do it yourself?" Harry asked.

"Can't. Mum said she wants you to learn how to do it. Something about it being good for you, I don't know." Ron breathed out loudly and brushed his fringe from his eyes. He was trying to let his hair grow a little longer, like Bill's, but couldn't decide if he liked it yet. Though at the moment it seemed more of a hindrance than it was worth.

Ron pointed his wand at himself, then at Harry, cleaning the soot off of them. "Alright, try it again. Do the carpet first; just wave your wand slowly. I know, pretend you're using one of those Muggle things... those Hoomers."

"Hoovers?" Harry asked, "How do you know about those?"

"Dad. I think he's got one out in the shed, confiscated it from a witch who tried to enchant it to clean up after her dogs. But then I think it started chasing after the other dogs in the neighborhood as well. Dad's office had to do a load of Memory Charms for that one. Anyway, he's got it all taken apart, doubt it even works now."

Harry followed Ron's instructions and, by moving his wand slowly back and forth over the soiled carpet, was able to clean it reasonably well. They moved on to the fireplace and had it done in no time. Ron finished up by casting a polishing spell on the stone hearth until it sparkled.

Harry was duly impressed. "You know, you're not bad with those cleaning spells. Hermione would be impressed."

"Hermione. Impressed with me. Yeah, that'd be a first," Ron snorted, though Harry noticed a slight smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

The kitchen door banged open and they looked up to see Ginny coming in, shaking a light rain from her hair. She scrubbed her hands in the sink, having just finished weeding the flower beds along the side of the house.

"What are you up to today?" she asked as the boys came into the kitchen.

"After lunch we're going to Diagon Alley. Got to do some shopping," Ron said.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "We are?"

"Oh?" Ginny's asked, looking pleasantly surprised.

"But you can't come."

"Why not?" she frowned.

"Because we don't want you to," Ron said, shifting uncomfortably. "Just shove off."

Ginny wrinkled her nose and tossed the dishtowel she had been drying her hands with onto the counter. "Prat," she hissed as she brushed past him.

"Nosy parker," he returned.

She paused at the stairs and turned to look at Harry, but he only shrugged and tried to look innocent. Ginny rolled her eyes and stomped up the stairs to her room.

"What was all that about?" Harry asked. "Why are we going shopping?"

Ron shushed him and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I have to find a birthday present for Ginny."

Harry felt a momentary pang of guilt that he had forgotten Ginny's birthday. Then he realized that he didn't even know when it was; he had certainly never gotten her a gift before. "It's Ginny's birthday?"

"This Sunday, the 11th." Ron furrowed his brow. "Mum's having a big party; most of the family's coming in for it. Don't you remember? Hermione's coming, too."

"Oh," Harry nodded. "I guess she did mention that she was coming for a holiday in mid-August. I didn't know it was for Ginny's birthday."

"Did you get her anything? You don't have to, you know."

"No, I'll get her something," he said, though Harry had no idea what a sixteen-year-old girl might like for her birthday. "What does she want?"

"Mum gave me some ideas, we'll find something."

* * *

Harry and Ron ducked into Flourish and Blotts to get out of the steady rain that was now falling. They had already stopped at Gringotts, spent a good deal of time browsing in Quality Quidditch Supplies, stopped at Florean Fortescue's where Harry treated them to some ice cream, and were just now getting to the purpose of their trip.

"Ok, I'm sure we can find something for Ginny in here. Mum said she wants..." Ron fished a scrap of parchment from his back pocket, "writing supplies, hair clips, a new bag for schoolbooks, or any books by India Barnes."

Harry scanned the list. "What are these... books by India Barnes?"

"It's a novel series. I've never read them, but Ginny loves them."

"Does she already own any?"

Ron's face creased in thought. "I don't think so. She usually borrows them from her friends at school."

"Well, that sounds good, I'll look for those then," said Harry.

"Ok, I'll look for..." Ron consulted the list again, "writing supplies."

They split up and began browsing through the stacks and tables. As Harry looked for the "B" section, an unsettling thought occurred to him. He hoped these books weren't some kind of trashy romance novels with half-naked witches and wizards lounging on the covers. He would feel awkward giving Ginny something like that, whether she loved them or not. He found the correct shelf and tilted his head to the side to better read the authors' names: Bachum, Banet, Barker, Bartleby. No Barnes.

He frowned and turned to a clerk who was stacking books on a shelf nearby. "Excuse me, do you have any books by India Barnes? They don't seem to be in the Bs here."

"Yes, we certainly do," said the middle-aged man as he straightened up and adjusted his glasses. A start of recognition crossed his face as his gaze fell on Harry. "Oh, Mr. Potter! Excuse me, I didn't know it was you."

Harry felt a jolt of embarrassment, but the man wore a kind smile. He seemed to be expecting Harry to say something, but when nothing witty or charming came to mind, Harry settled on a lopsided smile and an acknowledging nod.

"Well," said the man briskly, holding up a finger, "if you'll just follow me, I can show you right where they are." He led Harry to the center of the shop where a round table stood, covered with a variety of books in paperback and hardcover, all by India Barnes. Harry felt another wave of embarrassment that he hadn't noticed it before; he must have walked right past it.

"Ms. Barnes has just released a boxed set of her most popular novels, so we've set up a special display," said the man, pointing to a rectangular box holding six books. "It's been quite popular among young witches this summer. Are you considering it for a gift perhaps?"

"Yes, for a friend of mine," Harry said, beginning to wish the man would just go away.

"An excellent choice, I'm sure she will enjoy it. If you need anything else, Mr. Potter, please let me know."

Harry nodded and smiled. "Thank you," he said as the man bustled away.

He picked up one of the books titled A Light in the Window from the table and studied the cover. A slender witch with long dark hair who looked to be in her twenties stared back at him. She stood on a moor with the wind whipping her hair and cloak back and forth. In her right hand she gripped a wand, and her blue eyes fixed him with a strong, determined stare. The sky behind her was dark and in the distance, a lighthouse stood on the edge of a cliff. All the books featured the same witch in various, determined poses with similar sounding titles - A Stranger at the Door, A Portal to the Edge...

He flipped over the one he was holding and read the back.

Mystery and intrigue continue in this fourth installment of India Barnes' Elena Bronwen series. Elena searches for the one man who can clear her father's name when she stumbles onto a mysterious lighthouse. Do the people of the lighthouse know something that can help her, or do they hold a secret all their own?

Harry thought that sounded sort of interesting, actually. He was momentarily impressed by Ginny's good taste. He picked up the boxed set and looked for the price: twenty galleons. Harry knew it was more than any of the Weasleys would probably spend on a gift for Ginny, but he hesitated only a second before deciding on it.

He found Ron at a display of stationery, looking at two writing boxes each containing a packet of decorated parchment, two self-inking quills, a wax seal, and a small book.

"I thought these were nice," he said, looking up at Harry. "Look, they have this little book of different spells that you can put on the parchments, like if you only want a certain person to be able to read it, or you can transfigure the words into codes. That's kind of cool."

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Which one do you like better?" One box was decorated with yellow butterflies, the other with red flowers.

"I don't know," said Harry. "Flowers. They look more grown up."

"Yeah, that's good." Ron picked up the box and they turned toward the checkout. "What'd you find?"

Harry held up the books.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "You're getting her the whole set?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know which ones she's already read, so I figured this would be good. Why, do you think it's too much?"

Ron set his box on the counter. "It's a bit pricey, isn't it? But it's up to you, I'm sure she'll love it."

"So, I see you've decided on the boxed set then. Very good." The man who had helped Harry before rang up their purchases. "And you must be Mr. Potter's friend, Mr. Weasley is it? I saw your picture in the Prophet earlier this week."

"I must be," said Ron, with an amused grin.

"Well, I hope you'll both have a successful last year at Hogwarts. Good day," he smiled and turned to the next customer waiting in line.

They left the shop and headed toward the Leaky Cauldron where they would Floo back to the Burrow. The rain had stopped and a warm dampness hung in the air.

"What was that all about?" asked Ron, trying not to smile.

"You heard him, saw us in the Prophet," Harry sighed. "He helped me find the books before. Crickey, I hope not every wizard and their brother are going to try to chat me up now that that stupid article's been in the paper," he mumbled.

"Yeah, you sure do have it rough," Ron teased. "People smiling at you and wanting to be nice to you all the time. Must be hell."

Harry smirked and punched Ron in the arm. "Stuff it."