More Than Words

Harry opened the back door of the Burrow. 'I'll see you at lunch tomorrow,' he said softly. He tucked a lock of Ginny's hair behind her ear, fingers brushing over her cheek.

Ginny let one hand rest against his chest as she rose on her toes and pressed butterfly-soft kisses to the corners of his mouth, then settled her mouth over his. She pulled back with a regretful sigh and slipped into the house. 'G'night, Harry,' she whispered.

Harry jammed his hands into his pockets and watched Ginny disappear into the sitting room. He blew out a breath and spun on his heel, walking from the garden. He intended to Apparate home, but his steps took him to the river. By the time he'd reached the riverbank, he had already pulled his shirt over his head. He quickly toed off his trainers, kicked off his jeans, and dove into the cool embrace of the water. He surfaced with a splutter. 'Nice,' Ron's voice said from the grassy bank.

Harry treaded water for a moment. 'Been there long?'

'Mad-Eye would have a conniption fit,' Ron chuckled. 'You ran right past me.' He waved Harry's discarded shirt at him. 'This fairly landed on my head.'

'Sorry...'

'Something on your mind?' Ron leaned back on his elbows, contemplating his wet friend.

Harry ducked his head under the water and when he came up for air, he flung his head back, scattering water over his shoulders. 'You could say that.'

'Something you can tell me?'

Harry's eyes closed and memory of Ginny wrapped around him brought back the arrested arousal with a vengeance. 'Trust me. It's not something you want to hear.'

'Harry, come on. It's me. Ron. Your best mate.'

Harry stared up at the starry sky. You asked for it, mate... 'It's about Ginny,' he began.

'Is she still in a strop with you?'

Harry hand brushed over the front of his boxers. 'No.' He grinned. 'No, she's not.'

Ron eyed Harry in the darkness, unable to see his face clearly. 'She still in Wales? Did she owl you?'

Harry shook his head. 'No. Just took her to the Burrow. She, ah, came by the flat. We talked. It's... okay...' He lazily paddled through the cold water. 'Well, we're working on it at any rate...'

'Better than fighting.'

Harry cut his hand through the water, sending a splash at Ron. 'Don't you have some sort of N.E.W.T. in bickering?'

'Hermione and I don't fight,' Ron corrected.

'Oh, no?' Harry sent another splash at Ron. 'Then what in the hell have the two of you been doing since we met on the train?'

'That's not fighting. That's... erm... ah...'

'Yeah?'

'A forceful exchange of opinions.' Ron nodded vigorously. 'Yeah. That's it.'

Harry snorted with laughter and cautiously checked the state of things underwater. Satisfied his boxers were no longer tented enough to house a troop of Scouts, he emerged from the river and dropped on the grass next to Ron. 'How are things with Hermione?'

'She put the brakes on,' Ron muttered. 'Not out of the ordinary with us, though, innit? Don't rush into things...'

Harry burst out laughing. 'That's total rubbish!' he choked. 'How long were the two of you actually dating before you slept with her? A couple of months?'

'It took three years for her to kiss me,' Ron retorted. 'And it's not like I'd only known her a few months.'

'Why didn't you kiss her first again?'

'Remember those bloody yellow birds?' Ron huffed.

'Yeah.'

'That's why. I was afraid she'd get offended and hex me... Especially after I ran off.'

'Understandable...'

Harry studied Ron, taking in his disheveled hair and shirt buttoned the wrong way. 'What exactly are you putting the brakes on, might one ask?' he ventured tentatively.

'She's put our plans to move in with each other on hold for a while,' Ron sighed. 'Says after everything we went through, we grew up too fast and she wants to well, not have all that responsibility for a while...'

'She's got a point,' Harry allowed. 'Look at us,' he added with a rueful smirk, realizing he was about to justify Ginny's arguments against the two of them cohabitating. 'We spent over three months isolated here after the war ended, and then we had benefit of living here and being able to ease into being adults.'

'But Hermione was in school last year,' Ron objected.

'Yeah, but that's... School... Sitting in a classroom isn't the same as sifting through someone's memories, or tracking down Death Eaters or running a successful shop. We were able to figure some of it out before they took their first N.E.W.T.'

'I suppose,' Ron mumbled.

Harry picked up his shirt and pulled it over his head. 'She needs you, you know. You keep her from being too serious.'

'You mean I keep her from turning into Percy.'

Harry pulled up his knees and wrapped his arms around them, looking incongruously like a small child. 'That, too.'

Ron gazed at Harry suspiciously. 'Are you really okay? You hardly ever not notice things unless something's bothering you...'

Harry opened his mouth to express his envy of Ron and his easily found intimacy with Hermione, but as always, the fact Ginny was Ron's sister stilled his tongue. 'I'm fine,' he said instead.

xxxxxx

Ginny woke up early, as had become her habit, and dressed quietly in the twilight of dawn. She pulled on her old sweats and laced her feet into her trainers, before heading downstairs for her morning run. She quickly stretched and set off toward the village, jogging a lap around the green before going back to the Burrow. While she ran, she let her thoughts drift to Harry. He aroused her to the point of distraction, to be sure, but she couldn't quite manage to figure out just what kept her from crossing that invisible line she'd drawn in the sand. She loved him far beyond her childhood fantasies, but sex was, in her mind, the point of no return - an irrevocable declaration of her sensibilities. She was going to have to trust Harry in a way she hadn't trusted anyone since her first year of school when she allowed the vestige of Tom Riddle into her heart and mind. What made her reticence all the more maddening to her - and she was sure to Harry as well - was that she knew without a doubt Harry would never deliberately hurt her and would give his last breath in order to not betray that trust. Ginny wished she could put into words what held her back, if for no other reason than to be able to explain to Harry why she could spend hours traversing the expanse of his body and still make herself stop.

She burst into the kitchen, chest heaving with the effort of running

'You're up early,' Molly said, from her seat at the kitchen table. 'I thought you might have had a lie-in this morning, given how late you came in last night.'

'Needed to run and I'd rather get it done early before it's too warm...' Ginny gasped, fetching a glass from a cupboard and filling it with cold water. She gulped it down so quickly, it splashed from the corners of her mouth and over her face.

'Tea?'

'In a minute,' Ginny said, wiping her face on a tea towel.

Molly Summoned a cup and prepared Ginny's tea while Ginny refilled her glass. 'You do this every morning?' Ginny nodded, downing the second glass of water more slowly this time. Ginny sat across from Molly and reached for the cup, corners of her mouth quirking a little at the idea of drinking the steaming beverage while the sweat of her recent exertions glazed her body. But she craved the soothing warmth of the tea like she craved Harry's touch on the back of her neck.

'Mum?'

Molly glanced up from the Sunday -Prophet. 'Yes?'

The words stuck in Ginny's throat. Aside from the mortification of actually talking to her mother about sex, she was suddenly cognizant that it was something her parents had actually done. At

her age, no less. The rather painful conversation regarding contraceptive methods available for witches the summer after her fourth year was seared into her memory. Her face flushed deeply and she buried her nose in her tea. 'Nothing.'

Molly spread marmalade over her toast and resumed her perusal of the newspaper. 'You know you can talk to me about anything, dear,' she said quietly.

Ginny nodded. 'I know.' -Just because I can doesn't mean I want to... she thought. She set her cup down on the table. 'So, I let a flat in Holyhead...'

'Near Charlie, I hope?'

'Close enough,' Ginny replied. 'It's not furnished, either.'

'That's easily remedied,' Molly assured her. 'When do you start practices with the Harpies?'

'Next week. July first.'

'You didn't give yourself much time to set it up, did you?'

'It's a studio flat, Mum. All I need is a bed, a small dining table, and some pots and pans and dishes,' Ginny argued. 'I've got a week to get settled.'

'We can go shopping tomorrow, if you like,' Molly offered.

'I thought I could go through the stuff in the attic and see if there's anything worth salvaging.'

Molly reached across the table and laid a hand over Ginny's. 'Ginny, your father and I, well, we always tried to do our best by you and your brothers,' she said, discomfort clearly stamped over her round face. 'We didn't always have the means to do so, and you and Ron seemed to be the ones who bore the brunt of our financial issues. And you deserved so much better than that.'

'Mum, they offered me a stipend for my flat. It was rather generous, actually. You and Dad don't have to -'

'I want to,' Molly interrupted. 'Let your father and me do this. Or at least do some of it. If you're determined to paw through the rubbish in the attic, there are a few bits up there that need a little work, but they'll be good as new.'

Ginny exhaled slowly. 'All right. After breakfast tomorrow. We'll get what I can't rescue from the attic.' She drained her tea and pushed the chair back from the table. 'I'll go wash and come back down and help get breakfast ready.'

'Ginny...' Molly's grip tightened on Ginny's hand. 'Independence is a good thing. But not so that you isolate yourself.'

'I know, Mum.' Ginny ran up the stairs, pausing in her bedroom to collect her dressing gown. What her mother said was exactly what Bronwyn had told her the other day. Ginny wondered if Molly had been the only one to say something, would she have listened to her?

xxxxxx

Hermione shuffled into the kitchen of her parents' house, yawning, squinting in the bright light. Her mother twirled her pen in her fingers, frowning. 'Six letter word for "china clay"...?' Hermione felt the side of the teapot and unthinkingly tapped it with her wand. Steam drifted from the spout and she poured a cup for herself. Curiously, Jane touched the teapot with her fingertips, jerking them away. 'Well, that's handy...' She looked up at Hermione. 'Six letter word for "china clay"?' she repeated.

'Does it start with something?' Hermione murmured.

'K.'

Hermione stirred sugar and milk into her tea and pushed her hair from her face. 'Hmmmm...' She studied Jane through half-closed eyelids. 'Kaolin? K-A-O-L-I-N.'

'Fits...' Jane scribbled the letters in the squares. 'So Ron was here late last night,' she commented.

Hermione refrained from spraying tea all over her mother. 'And...?'

'Just making an observation.' Jane picked up her tea and sipped it, examining her daughter. Her head tilted to one side. 'It's serious, isn't it?'

'Does it bother you that he was here so late?'

'It's not that he was here late,' Jane began. 'He could be here until breakfast for all your father and I care.'

'You should,' Hermione retorted. 'He's ravenous at breakfast. Can eat more than the three of us combined.'

Jane's brows drew together. 'Really?'

'Really.'

Jane shook her head. 'Don't change the subject. I don't care how late he stays. It's the extra-curricular activities...'

'It's not like you didn't know we were...' Hermione groped for an appropriate euphemism.

'Playing Scrabble,' Jane said quickly.

'Playing Scrabble,' Hermione agreed.

'Yes, well...' Jane doodled on the newspaper with her pen. 'It's one thing to be aware your child is, erm, playing Scrabble. It's another to know they were doing it across the corridor,' she said severely.

Hermione's brows arched. 'What makes you think Ron and I were... well... last night?'

Jane suddenly pushed her chair back and began to bustle aimlessly around the kitchen. 'You're a little bit... vocal,' she said tightly. 'I could hear you.'

Hermione buried her face in her hands. 'Oh, Merlin's holey Y-fronts...' Embarrassment thickened her voice. 'I am so sorry... We didn't mean to...'

'Hermione, you're an adult,' Jane said quickly, dying for this conversation thread to end. 'And playing Scrabble is a natural, healthy thing to do in a committed, consensual relationship. Just not while your father and I are here.'

Hermione flicked her wand at a loaf of bread, toasting several slices. 'Let me see if I understand you,' she mused, buttering her toast. 'While you and Dad are on holiday in September, it's perfectly acceptable for Ron and me to play Scrabble in every single room of this house? Just not while you're here and sleeping?'

'I didn't say that,' Jane grumbled, pulling eggs from the refrigerator. 'You were never this obtuse as a child.'

'Things change,' Hermione pointed out. 'And I'm not being obtuse. I'm just trying to understand what the difference is. Would it still bother you if Ron and I were married and did that here? Or would it bother you if I shared a flat with Ron, knowing that we'd share a bed every night?'

'Hermione Jane Granger that's not what I'm saying and you know it!' Jane stated. 'I merely expect that there ought to be a few boundaries, that's all.' She began to crack eggs into a pan. 'It's one thing to be intellectually aware of what you do with Ron in your free time, but quite another to have it waved about in front of my face.' She looked down in the pan. 'It's like your magic,' she added quietly, nearly under the sizzle and pop of the eggs. 'You do it so casually, without a thought about it. When you first went to your school. I didn't understand it and I was afraid you would be an outcast there, as well. But it took you away. You only came home for Christmas, what...? Four times? Then there was that time we went skiing and you left us and went back to London...'

'We're not talking about mine and Ron's physical relationship anymore, are we?' Hermione guessed.

'It's completely stupid,' Jane said to the pan. 'I just worry that if you didn't live here, your father and I would never see you... I'd never been on the periphery of your life before you went away to school,' she murmured. 'I've been on the outside, as an observer ever since. Mothers don't quite enjoy finding out they're no longer needed.'

Hermione slid her wand into the pocket of her light cotton pajama bottoms. 'You're my mother. I'm always going to need you, Mum. One day, I'm going to have children, and I don't know the first thing about them.'

Whatever Jane was going to say was cut off by the appearance of an owl tapping at the kitchen window. Hermione opened the window to let the owl in and took the letter tied to its leg. She reached for a cup and filled it with water, offering it to the owl. 'I'm afraid I haven't any Owl Treats,' she told it. 'But I've got toast.' The owl clicked its beak at her, and she fetched a few of her crusts, which the owl ate quickly, then dipped its beak several times into the cup of water. It hooted at her, then flew from window.

'That still takes some getting used to,' Jane sighed.

Hermione turned the purple envelope over in her hands, and used her wand to slit it open. Another sealed envelope fell into her palm. 'This is odd,' she said.

'How?' Jane slid the eggs onto two plates and set them on the table.

'This is Remus Lupin's handwriting,' Hermione said shakily.

'Hermione, isn't he... I mean, didn't he...?'

'Die, Mum?'

'Yes.'

'He did...' Hermione said distractedly. 'What is this...?' She tore open the envelope, and pulled out a closely written sheet of parchment. Her eyes darted from side to side as she scanned it.

23 April 1998

Hermione,

One of the things that impressed me, aside from the vast cleverness you possesses, is after everything you've seen and done, you've still managed to retain your sense of outrage and justice regarding non-human magical beings. If you live to see the end of the war and finish school, it is my hope that you will be able to shoulder this responsibility in the event of my death.

The enclosed coordinates will take you to a farmhouse in the country. As of this writing, there are three werewolves living there under a Fidelius charm. I was the Secret Keeper. And now you are.

They are all good and decent men, Hermione. They deserve to have a voice that rings with all the passion of injustice and the desire to see a world where everyone is treated equally. I charge you with the task of their advocacy.

I will leave this with Kingsley, along with instructions to have this delivered to you in the event you either join the Ministry in some capacity, as I imagine you will - the theory being sometimes, you must work within the system in order to bring about change - or finish school, whichever comes first.

You have my utmost faith and belief that you will someday succeed.

Respectfully yours,

Remus J. Lupin

'"When I was a child, I spake as I child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child: but when I became a man, I put away childish things",' Hermione murmured. 'I guess my childhood is really and truly over...'

xxxxxx

Harry carefully set a trio of brimming glasses on the table in the corner of a dark pub in London. 'God, I need this,' he sighed, picking up a glass and taking a long swallow, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth.

'Bad day at work, dear?' Ron snickered.

'Just long,' Harry replied.

'What happened?' Neville asked. 'Or is it something you can't talk about?'

'I missed out on some normal Auror training, skipping three years of it like I did, and there are some, ah, holes in my education.'

'They're just finding that out?' Ron snorted.

'Annual evaluation,' Harry supplied. 'And they knew. But apparently, taking classes with the other trainees would undermine my authority, such as it is, with them as a full Auror. And attempts to arrange for me to undertake an independent study were laughable.'

'How's that?' Neville asked.

'Out on assignment, trial preparations, getting bombed in Belfast, spending almost two months recovering from the subsequent concussion, the trials...' Harry trailed off. 'So I've been informed I'm to go up to Hogwarts three days a week and work with the Defense teacher.'

'That's not so bad,' Ron said consolingly.

'Yeah, learning how to write field reports is so much fun,' Harry grumbled. He watched in fascination as a witch came up to the table and slipped an arm around Neville's shoulders.

'Hi, Neville,' she chirped.

'Hello, sweetheart,' he laughed. Ron and Harry glanced at each other.

Ron mouthed, 'Sweetheart?' Harry shrugged, with a moue of distaste.

'Are you coming by later?' the witch purred, running her hand through Neville's blonde hair.

'Try and stop me,' Neville promised.

'Ta ta for now,' she murmured, giving Neville a lingering kiss before sauntering away, hips swinging in a most provocative manner. Neville leaned from his chair to watch, a lascivious smile playing on his lips.

'Who was that?' Ron spluttered.

'Marjorie Tyson. She was a Hufflepuff two... no three years ahead of us.'

'And you're going to her place to...?' Harry ventured.

'Hopefully a shag,' Neville said, settling back in his chair, and picking up his lager taking a long, slow sip.

'So she's your girlfriend, then?' Harry asked.

'Marjorie? Nah,' Neville scoffed. 'We're just passing some time together, that's all.'

Ron and Harry exchanged another glance. 'And you're sleeping with her because...?' Ron coughed.

'Because it feels good,' Neville stated.

'So... How did you know?' Harry asked tentatively.

'How do you mean?' Neville asked.

'How did you know she was the one you wanted...?' Harry clarified. 'And that it was time...?'

'Harry, it's shagging,' Neville explained patiently. 'You don't think. You just do.' Neville took another slow sip of his lager. 'You don't have to be in some relationship.' He leaned forward. 'It doesn't mean anything.'

'And you're all right with that?' Harry asked faintly.

'Luna didn't seem to mind,' Neville offered.

'Wait,' Ron said abruptly. 'You and Luna?' He picked up his glass with an unsteady hand and drained half its contents. 'Luna?'

Neville shrugged. 'Yeah. So?'

'Why?' Harry blurted. 'I didn't think the two of you were interested in each other.'

'We're not.' Neville sat back once more in his chair with a faint smile on his face. 'It was more of an experiment, than anything else. All those girls kept coming on to me last summer, and Luna was willing to try it out. Nothing romantic. No expectations.'

'Did she mention nargles?' Ron wondered.

'I don't believe so,' Neville replied. He finished his drink and pushed away from the table. 'I'm off. Don't wait up,' he said with a wink.

xxxxxx

Harry tapped his quill on the scroll of parchment that contained a draft of his report of the events in Belfast. He covertly glanced at Carter over the rims of his glasses. At this point, the older man was his best option. He rolled the parchment and stuffed it in his bag, then tucked the quill in after it. 'I was wondering if I could have a word with you?' Harry asked Carter in a rush before he could lose his nerve.

'Yeah, sure, kid.' Carter propped his feet on top of his desk, and tilted his chair back on its hind legs.

'Not here...'

Carter glanced around the office. 'Kid, there ain't a soul in this wing except you an' me. Shoot.'

Harry clenched his hands in his lap, and then reached out, plucking a spare quill from a cup on the edge of the desk. He twirled it in his fingers, eyes glued on it. 'I need to talk to someone,' he said. 'My dad is dead, and so are my godfathers,' he told him, including Remus as the godfather he was in everything but name. 'And the closest thing I have to a father just happens to be Ginny's dad, and I can't ask him about this, because, well, I just can't. And I can't talk to my best mate, because he's Ginny's older brother, and I've had the bones in my arm regrown before. It wasn't pleasant. And Ron probably could pummel me into the dust if he got worked up enough, and I know this would make him angry enough to go speechless, and if you're a Weasley, speechless is a sure sign of pure rage...'

'Harry, breathe!' Carter ordered. Startled, Harry inhaled with a strangled gasp. 'Tell me what you need to talk about.'

'How do you know the time is right to have sex?' Harry blurted.

'Never been with a girl before, huh?' Carter asked. Harry shook his head shamefacedly. 'Don't be embarrassed, kid. Nothin' to be ashamed of.' Carter reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a couple of butterbeers, pushing one across the desk to Harry. 'Normally, I'd have a beer with this kind of conversation, but this'll have t' do.' He twisted out the cork and tossed it into a letter tray. 'So what's the problem?'

'She's told me she's not ready to...' Harry mumbled, picking at the label on his bottle.

'And you're climbin' walls.'

'Yeah. Only so many cold showers a bloke can stand...' Harry took a long swallow of his butterbeer. 'It's not that she doesn't want... me... Just not yet...'

'Can't put a timetable on somethin' like that,' Carter said. 'But when she's ready, you'll know.'

'How?' Harry asked, desperation evident in every line of his body.

'She'll either come out and tell ya or seduce ya.' Carter chuckled. 'I've seen what she reads in her spare time, kid. I imagine she's pretty informed about the ins and outs of it all.'

'Oh...' Harry stared at the floor between his feet. 'Guess one of us ought to know what to do...'

Carter scrawled a book title on a scrap of parchment and shoved it toward Harry. 'Go to any Muggle bookstore. Buy that book. Read it. Study it. Don't try the advanced stuff until you've both got a little experience under your belts. There's nothin' more humiliatin' than trying to explain to a Healer how you ended up with a fork jammed in your skull.' He held up a hand as Harry's eyes widened. 'Don't ask, kid, 'cause I ain't tellin' ya.'

Harry slid the parchment toward him. 'Do I have to ask for the book?'

'Shouldn't have to.'

'Thanks.' Harry folded the parchment and slipped it into the pocket of his shirt.

'You know how to keep her from gettin' pregnant?' Carter asked point-blank.

'Yes. Arthur was quite adamant Ron and I learn how to -'

'Not the spells, kid. People who rely on those are called Mom and Dad.'

'I was planning on using what Ron and Hermione use,' Harry said pointedly.

'And that would be?' Carter inquired. 'I'm goin' to assume it's reliable if Miss Granger employs it.'

'Condoms.'

'Get yourself a couple o' boxes and practice puttin' 'em on,' Carter instructed. 'You can use a banana until you get the hang of it. The last thing ya wanna do is fumble with one o' those in the heat of passion, kid. It's a mood killer.' He pointed a long, blunt finger at Harry. 'No glove, no love, kid. You don't have any on you, do somethin' else. Understand me?'

'Yeah.' Harry could feel his face burning painfully. He fancied he could fry an egg on his cheeks just now.

Carter looked at Harry's bright red face and took pity on the boy. 'Come on. I'll walk ya down to Hogsmeade. You can Floo from the Three Broomsticks.'

Bemused, Harry gestured toward Carter's cold fireplace. 'But I thought I would... From here...?'

'You need some air, kid.' Carter wrapped a hand around Harry's arm and hauled him to his feet. 'So given how worried you are about Miss Weasley, have you thought about yourself in all this?'

Harry slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder. 'My friend, Neville, says there's nothing to think about and to just do it,' he informed Carter, looking down at the stone floor. 'He's so casual about it. Like he's talking about brushing his teeth or polishing his wand...'

Carter guffawed. 'No pun intended, eh, kid?'

Harry's mouth twitched at the unintended joke. 'Maybe just a little...'

'You disagree with Neville, though,' Carter affirmed.

'It makes me a little... queasy,' Harry admitted.

Carter slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans. 'I hate to tell ya, kid; I don't have easy answers for ya. All I can say is you'll know, because it'll feel like you've been in that moment a hundred years and you'll be there a hundred more.'

xxxxxx

A/N: Hermione quotes I Corinthians 11:13, King James Bible version.