The First Day

Harry shifted in his sleep, hazily aware of an unfamiliar weight against his chest, and a very familiar scent wreathing his head. He woke up with a start, his arms tightening around Ginny's waist. It was still dark, with no hint of dawn in the skies. He brought his wrist up and squinted at the face of his watch. It was a quarter past three. His feet were strangely numb, and he couldn't figure out why until he realized Ginny was sprawled in his lap, cutting off the circulation to his feet.

He tried to shift her a little, so she sat between his thighs, and not on them, without waking her up. Her skirt was bunched under her knees, so when he eased her off his right leg to the grass, the waistband of her skirt slipped down and the back of her shirt rode up slightly. He glanced down involuntarily and the smudge of black against the glimmer of her ivory-hued skin made his head reel. 'Oh, God...' he breathed. He'd never really given Ginny's knickers much thought before, beyond idle speculation his sixth year when he should have been studying or doing homework. His fingertips traced the line of her skin over the edge of the knickers, curving across her lower back. His hand spread over the expanse of exposed skin, feeling his pulse begin to race. Harry's head dropped against the trunk of the apple tree, and he stared at the stars through the latticework of branches overhead, willing himself to breathe deeply. His fingers closed regretfully around the hem of Ginny's shirt, tugging it gently down as far as he could.

Dawn was breaking when he finally fell asleep once more.

*****

Molly rose early the next morning, just as she did every day. She noted ruefully that she'd put her nightdress on inside out, as she pulled her dressing gown on, and tiptoed down the stairs. They didn't creak, as she stole down the stairs. The charm recognized her, and muted the exaggerated squeaks and screeches that it offered up for the children. On the landing outside Ginny's bedroom, she stopped, frowning. Ginny's bedroom door was open. Ginny never slept with her bedroom door open. Molly pushed the door open wider, and gasped, as Ginny's neatly bed came into view. There was no way Ginny was awake yet. She never made her bed until well after breakfast. Molly turned sharply to Bill's old room, and with a deep breath, pressed her ear to the door. Satisfied at the sounds of silence that met her, she eased the door open a crack, praying she wouldn't interrupt anything. It was one thing to be cognizant of what your son did with his wife. It was quite another to be greeted with it first thing in the morning. They were both wedged into the narrow bed, sound asleep. Molly dashed up the stairs to the second floor, bypassing what had been Fred and George's room, jabbing her wand at the door to Percy's room. The door swung open, revealing Percy sprawled in wild abandon over the bed, while George curled up in a tight ball in a sleeping bag on the floor. She glanced up at the ceiling and climbed the stairs to the attic, waving her wand at Ron's bedroom door. Ron was on his back, his arms and legs at bizarre angles, but the camp bed where Harry had taken to sleeping the past few weeks, was ominously empty, as well. She stumbled quickly down to the ground floor and peered into the sitting room. Charlie was curled on the sofa, the blanket twisted around him, one hand trailing on the floor.

Molly frantically tried to remember if Harry and Ginny had actually come inside the house last night. She remembered Ron coming in with Charlie, George and Percy half-dragging each other up the stairs, Arthur strolling in nonchalantly, giving her a hearty smack on the bum on his way up to bed, then Bill and Fleur glided up to bed before Molly herself had gone to bed. She couldn't remember seeing either Harry or Ginny come inside.

The blood drained from Molly's face. Arthur had confessed a few weeks ago there were still a few Death Eaters who hadn't been captured yet by the Ministry.

The serene morning was shattered by Molly's blood-curdling scream.

*****

Charlie jerked as the ear-piercing screech woke him, and he fell off the sofa, tangled in the blanket, landing on the floor with a thud. 'What the hell, Mum?' he asked sleepily.

'It's Ginny!' Molly cried. 'She's not in her bed!'

Charlie's brows knit in a frown. 'Are you sure...?' he asked hazily, still trying to wake up.

'Yes, of course I'm sure,' Molly snapped.

'If you want us to wake up early, Mum, there are much gentler ways of doing so,' George grumbled as he followed Bill and Percy into the sitting room.

'Ginny's missing,' Molly told him, fear settling in the pit of her stomach. I thought this was over... she wailed to herself.

'So's Harry,' Ron mumbled, dropping to the bottom step, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Arthur shuffled into the room, dodging Ron hunched on the stairs, tying the belt of his dressing gown. 'All right, boys, let's go.' The fact that all six of them already had their wands in a pocket or in hand was a testament to what the past year had been like. They hit the back door at a run, fear etched on their faces. 'Spread out,' Arthur ordered quietly.

Ron's face was set in tense lines as he crept next to Bill, his fingers wrapped tightly around the handle of his wand. He stopped cold as he noticed Harry's battered trainer on the other side of the trunk of the apple tree. 'Dad,' he whispered. Arthur looked at him questioningly. 'There...' Ron pointed to the ominously still foot.

Percy's eyes squeezed shut. That had been a hallmark of some of the Death Eaters and their supporters he'd known in the Ministry last year - to kill a person, then leave their body for their families to find. Of course, they had always used Avada Kedavra. 'Oh, please, no...' he murmured fearfully.

Charlie was the first to reach them. It was obvious from the movements of their chests they were both breathing. His head cocked to one side, as he examined them with an idea of sketching them later. Harry's overgrown hair just barely touched Ginny's dark red head, leaving inky shadows in the auburn. Harry's arms were wrapped tightly around Ginny's waist, his wand protruding from his pocket. Ginny's fingers were entwined through Harry's, her head resting easily just below one of his shoulders. He glanced at his brothers and father and gave them a crooked smile and a shrug. It was his way of saying, It's all right.

'Should we wake them?' Bill asked softly. He shifted, making a twig snap in two with a loud crack in the still morning.

Ron shrugged. It still startled him a little to see Harry sleep so deeply.

Harry's eyes flew open. His blood froze at the sight of six Weasley men with inscrutable looks on their faces. 'Oh, bloody hell...' he whispered. 'Gin...' he murmured, shaking her a little.

'What?' Ginny tried to burrow into Harry a little more.

Harry straightened his glasses. 'Seriously, Gin... wake up...'

'Oh, for Merlin's sake,' Ginny grumbled, stretching. 'Why? Sleep is so much better...'

'Um, Gin, I think your brothers are about to kill me...'

Ginny slowly opened her eyes to find Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, George, and Ron standing in a semi-circle in front of them. Arthur seemed to be amused, but tried to hide it. Ginny noticed he couldn't quite squelch the twinkle in his dark blue eyes. Bill seemed to be wavering between irritation and something else Ginny couldn't define. Charlie's eyes were hooded and intense, but it wasn't anger behind them. Percy seemed relieved, and Ron looked like he just wanted to go back to bed. George... George's face was slowly turning red. She felt Harry's hand grip hers tightly, the both of them waiting tensely for what George would do.

None of them expected the peals of laughter that erupted from George. He doubled over and sat down hard on the dew-wet grass. Gasping for air, he stammered, 'I can't do it... I just can't do it...' He tilted his head back and took in the expanse of blue sky overhead. 'Did you see the looks on their faces?' he murmured, hoping Fred could hear him. George burbled with more laughter, slapping Harry on the knee. 'Ah, Fred would have gotten a kick out of this. Harry, he would have taken the mickey out of you until the day you died.' George flopped to his back. 'Or had a handsome set of twins and named them Gred and Forge.' He panted for breath a few times, then began to giggle again.

Ginny scrambled to her feet, Harry following in her lead. 'Come on Harry. Let's go help Mum with breakfast. Gits,' she muttered, before flouncing back to the house, Harry trailing in her wake. She glanced back at him. He was wearing a slightly troubled frown.

Arthur watched them walk back toward the house, Harry throwing glances over his shoulder, every few steps, worry clearly etched on his face. Arthur winked a little at him. 'Well. Everything seems to be all right, then!' he said heartily, rubbing his hands together.

Harry mouthed a heartfelt, thank you, to Arthur, before he turned his gaze back to Ginny. She was still fuming. Ginny slowed her strides, and waited for Harry to catch up to her. She snorted and shook her head. The corner of Harry's mouth turned up shyly.

George's laughter slackened a little. 'Nice boxers, Perce,' he choked. 'Priceless... Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle... Where d'you even begin to find boxers with Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle?' he howled.

Ginny and Harry were met in the kitchen by Fleur, who handed them a wad of cotton wool. 'In your ears,' she whispered. 'Quickly...'

Ginny ignored the advice, and continued into the sitting room. Harry, who valued his hearing, tore off a few small pieces from the larger wad and stuffed them into his ears. Taking a deep breath, he gave Fleur a wan smile, then followed Ginny into the sitting room.

'What were you thinking?' Molly shouted.

'I wasn't thinking anything,' retorted Ginny.

'Clearly,' snapped Molly. 'Have you any idea how worried I was when I discovered you hadn't slept in your bed?'

'Did it occur to you to look out the window?'

'You may be of age, young lady, but don't think for an instant you can speak to me in that tone of voice,' Molly said. She paced the sitting room's confines for a moment, before taking in the two teenagers standing in front of her - one obviously terrified, and the other in a fit of pique. 'Curfew,' Molly pronounced. 'Ten-thirty, you will be inside this sitting room.'

'You're joking,' Ginny protested. None of the others had ever had to be inside the house that early before.

'Argue some more, and I'll make it nine-thirty,' Molly heatedly informed her daughter.

'It's fine, Molly,' Harry quickly said.

'How can you -?' Ginny rounded on Harry. 'How can you take her side?'

'I'm not taking sides,' Harry soothed. 'We should have come back inside...'

'Unbelievable!' Ginny screeched, stomping up the stairs.

Harry looked at Molly apologetically. 'We just fell asleep,' he said, in an attempt to explain. The look Molly gave him was one that he'd seen her hurl at the others, but never at him. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, Harry went up the stairs to wash and change.

Arthur ambled into the sitting room, and plopped into his favorite armchair. He glanced pointedly at the clock on the wall by the fireplace. 'Why didn't you look at the clock, dear?' Harry and Ginny's hands were firmly at "Home".

Charlie came in behind Arthur and headed for the sofa, stretching out again. 'I think the real question is,' he began tiredly and yawning. 'Why didn't any of us look at that clock, either?' With that he pushed his head under the pillow, and fell asleep once more.

For once, Molly had nothing to say.

*****

Ron rested his head on the counter, feeling like a limp piece of lettuce. 'We need some help,' he moaned softly into the polished wood.

'You think?' George retorted without any real heat in his voice, folding his arms on the counter across from Ron, and burying his head in them.

'We have to,' Ron continued, unaware of the tone in George's voice. 'Ginny's going back to school in a couple of weeks, and Harry's starting at the Ministry the day after.'

'Yeah, I'm aware of that...' George said with a hint of irritation.

'I put an advertisement in the Prophet last week,' Ron confessed, turning his head so he could see George.

'You did?' George's head lifted in surprise.

'Yeah. After those first few days, I figured we were going to need the help once Harry and Gin had to leave. I've already had a few replies.' Ron rummaged in the pocket of his robes and pulled out a few scraps of parchment. He slid them across the counter to George. 'Look, George, I'm sorry if I've overstepped myself...'

'You didn't,' George said shortly. 'I should have done this myself.' He rubbed the corner of his eye. 'It was just something that F-f-fred usually did.' He sighed and picked up the pieces of parchment. 'It was his job, that. He's the one that hired Verity, you know.'

'I'm not surprised,' Ron said wryly. 'Was she any good?' At George's doubtful expression, Ron added, 'Truthfully.'

'She added a certain charm to the place,' George said finally, unwilling to say anything negative about his former employee. 'The boys were so busy looking at her, they didn't have time to try and slip anything into their pockets.'

'Whatever works for you, then,' Ron said, stretching.

George looked down at the letters in his hand. 'Which ones did you like?' He held them out to Ron.

Ron looked down at the parchment in George's slightly trembling hand. 'Why don't you read them first?' he suggested. 'Then we can talk about it.' Ron ground his teeth in frustration. George didn't seem to want to take the lead on anything, and Ron was uncertain in what to do with the shop. He could order supplies and handle the sales floor well enough, but when it came to making decisions about what to do with the shop itself, Ron was almost clueless. He didn't know enough to take on those small day-to-day tasks that nearly paralyzed George.

George's fingers closed around the letters, crushing them in his hands. 'All right.'

*****

Ginny found Harry under a tree, studying. They weren't working at the shop anymore. George and Ron had hired a couple of wizards who hadn't been able to finish school, and hadn't really wanted to go back, either. Sasha had been one of those Slytherins who had kept to himself to the point that neither Ron, nor George, could place him. Sasha confessed the Sorting Hat had placed him in Slytherin because his whole family had gone to Durmstrang, not out any sort of blood snobbery. David was Muggle born, and had been in Hufflepuff. But they seemed to work in some sort of bizarre harmony. David's sense of humor was actually wickeder than Sasha's.

She folded herself to the grass with a sigh, realizing she ought to get her Potions book and get some reading done, too. 'How can you study?'

Harry glanced at Ginny over the rims of his glasses. 'Open book, read, take notes...'

Ginny snorted and rearranged her ponytail, trying to encourage a little of the elusive breeze to cool the back of her neck. 'It's too hot to study,' she pronounced.

'Says you,' Harry chuckled softly, scratching a potion reference into his notebook.

'Take a break,' Ginny cajoled. 'We can go swimming.'

Harry shook his head slightly. 'I can't swim, really.'

Ginny frowned. She seemed to recall Harry swimming in the Black Lake in the Triwizard. 'But the second task...? The merpeople?'

Harry closed his book. 'You don't know?'

'Know what?'

He smiled. 'That was Dobby,' he told her, with a slight catch to his voice. 'He brought me gillyweed. Saved my life.' Harry's throat closed, and he coughed a few times. He knew he ought to go to Shell Cottage soon and pay his respects. 'So, yeah,' he continued, fiddling with his quill. 'I don't really swim very well.'

'I can teach you,' Ginny said promptly.

'Who taught you?'

'Charlie. The summer before he went to Romania.'

Harry set the book aside and stretched. 'One problem,' he stated.

'And that would be...?'

'I don't have any trunks,' Harry pointed out. 'The Dursleys didn't exactly take me on holidays to the beach,' he added wryly.

Ginny waved off his concern blithely. 'There's a cupboard in the scullery with some of the boys' old trunks. There ought to be a pair that fit you.' She got to her feet. 'Meet back here in ten minutes?'

'Um, okay...' Harry had a feeling he'd been neatly outfoxed, because in fifteen minutes he found himself standing on the riverbank, an old and worn blanket spread on the grass, their clothing piled on a corner. 'Does you mum know you wear that?' he asked, fingering a strap of Ginny's bikini. It didn't leave much to the imagination.

'Of course she does,' Ginny said pertly. 'She was with me when I bought it.'

'Somehow, I don't think I'm meant to see you in it...' Harry murmured. 'You're practically naked.'

Ginny grinned and dove into the river. 'Come in, the water's fine.'

Harry tentatively dipped a toe into the water. 'It's kind of chilly...'

'It's better if you just jump in,' Ginny advised, watching him set his glasses carefully on the blanket on top of his discarded shirt.

Harry took a deep breath, and jumped. He came up spluttering. 'Merlin's bollocks, that's cold!'

'Wuss.' Ginny tossed her head disdainfully.

Harry stood in the river, the current tugging gently at his toes. Ginny swam lazily around him, her hair streaming behind her. 'Now what am I supposed to do?' he asked, struggling to refrain from folding his arms over his chest.

Ginny stood next to him. 'Just bend your knees,' she instructed. 'Spread your arms out, and lean back. Just let your feet come up. Like this.' She demonstrated, floating on her back, her arms outstretched, palms facing up. 'Hold your breath a little, too.' Ginny put her feet on the river bottom and straightened up. 'You try it. I'll hold you.' Harry squeezed his eyes shut and followed Ginny's instructions. He could feel her hands under his back, holding him up in the water. 'Don't worry,' she said softly. 'I've got you.'

Harry felt slightly ridiculous. Ginny was several inches shorter than he was, and she was the one holding him up. He couldn't remember feeling this free and weightless off a broom before. He didn't feel Ginny's hands slip from under his back, one after the other. He slowly opened both eyes, staring into the cloud-dotted sky above. It felt peaceful here. Harry wondered if it was wrong for him to feel this tranquil, as if he could let his guilt and trepidations float away on the meandering current and out to sea.

Ginny bit her lip, as Harry floated tranquilly, a few feet downriver. The livid bruise she had seen last week on her birthday was even more vivid in the daylight. It spread in an ugly purplish-blue splotch from his heart unfolding across his chest in a mark the size of her hand, if she stretched her fingers out, fading to grey toward the edges. The smudged scar under the bruise provided a vile epicenter. Ginny wondered if Riddle had known about the scar when he tried to kill Harry. Her father had once told her that things would look better in the light of day. She reached out involuntarily and traced the outer edges of the bruise, unwilling to go any further.

The sensation of the cold water dripping from Ginny's fingertips made Harry come back to himself with an explosive gasp. He scrambled to put his feet on the riverbed and stood up. Ginny stood frozen, one hand in the air. He grasped her wrist and guided her hand to his chest, placing her palm flat over the scar. With an impulse she didn't understand, Ginny tugged her hand away and brushed her lips over the roughened patch of skin. 'What was that for?' Harry asked hoarsely, squinting down at Ginny in confusion.

'It's supposed to make it better,' Ginny said shakily. She paused. 'Does it?'

Harry's hand rose from the water, and gently rubbed over the scar. 'Doesn't make it worse.'

Ginny sniffed. 'Well, it made me feel better.'

*****

Somewhere, an ordinary clock chimed midnight.

Ginny lay in the armchair, her legs draped over the back, head hanging off the seat. 'I've never really heard Mum and Dad say "I love you" to each other.'

Harry sat with his back against the chair, his head next to Ginny's. 'Are the words themselves important, do you think?'

'I don't know.' Ginny began to cast stitches on a crochet hook, idly making a chain. 'Words don't always mean much, you know?' She quietly added another row to the one she'd begun. 'But you never doubted how they felt about each other. They don't have to say it.'

'Why not?' Harry asked curiously. 'I'd think a person might want to hear it sometime.'

'True enough,' Ginny allowed. 'But it's what they do for each other that counts.' She turned her head to look at Harry's profile in the dim light. 'With them, love is an action, more than a feeling.'

'So, words aren't necessary, then...'

*****

Ginny walked swiftly through the corridor at school; her bag slung over one shoulder, her eyes on the floor in front of her. Her shoulders hunched, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself. The shoves from most of the Slytherins had gotten worse. She hated having to behave like this, but if she retaliated, it would be worse for her later. Detention with the Carrows, so the extraordinarily thick Slytherins could practice the Cruciatus Curse on her. When Crabbe or Goyle did it, they could barely pronounce the words; much less perform the necessary wand movements. The curse itself didn't hurt. It was the repetition that made her ache. Over and over, it jolted through her veins. But no matter how much it hurt, tears were not an option...

Harry awoke with a start. He knew he'd never know precisely what Ginny had gone through at school last year. No matter. His imagination could provide plenty of fodder for his dreams. 'Are y'all right, mate?' Ron muttered sleepily.

'Yeah,' Harry said huskily, breathing deeply. 'Go back to sleep...' He held his breath, waiting to hear the soft snores that signaled Ron's slumber. He curled on his side, clutching a pillow to his chest. He still dreamed. Not with the regularity that he had immediately after the war, but often enough. The sporadic nature of dreams gave him a small measure of apprehension as he tried to sleep. He never knew - would tonight be one of the nights?

He closed his eyes, and tried to think of something more pleasant. Inevitably, his thoughts turned to Ginny. He clung to small details, like the feel of her hand on his chest, or the scent of her hair under his nose while they rocked in the hammock.

*****

Harry walked down the length of the table in the Great Hall, focused on the sheen of her hair in the morning sunlight. It shone like a beacon, guiding him to the balm for his wounded soul. He grasped her wrist and tugged her from the bench. Wordlessly he led her out of the hall and up stairs to Gryffindor Tower. They stumbled through the portrait hole and Harry started for the spiral staircase that led to the boys' dormitories. He jabbed his wand at the door to the seventh years' dormitory at the top of the stairs, and it flew open magically. He pulled Ginny into the room, jabbing his wand at the door once more, and it slammed shut, and locked with an audible click. Harry's hand trailed down the side of Ginny's hip, gathering the skirt she wore in one hand, while he all but pushed her against the door...

'Harry, wake up!'

'Unghhhh.'

'Harry, it's ten... You've quite missed breakfast.'

Harry jerked painfully awake. 'I'm up, I'm up... I'm... awake...' he corrected hastily, flipping over to his other side, facing away from Ginny, feeling the slow flush creep up his neck. 'I'll be down in a minute,' he said breathlessly. I hope...

'All right...' Ginny said skeptically. Harry held his breath until he heard the door close softly behind her.

Rolling over on his back, Harry glared down his body. 'Seriously? Now? You pick now to do that?' He let his head fall back to the pillow. He hadn't dreamed about Ginny like that in more than a year. He lifted a shaking hand, and wiped the sweat that suddenly beaded his brow.

It seemed some things were returning to normal.