The First Day

little_bird

Story Summary:
The first year after the battle at Hogwarts.

Chapter 52 - To Arrive Where We Started

Posted:
06/06/2010
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1,086


Harry's bare feet padded quietly against the wood floors of the flat. Lamps burned softly in his bedroom, throwing a warm glow into the corridor. He could have pressed the switch on the wall and used the electric lights, but the lamplight made him feel more anchored to reality. It was what had greeted him when he came home from work after a trying day, missions, and anything else unpleasant he was forced to deal with on a daily basis. Besides, he hadn't actively used electricity in almost two years. He wandered restlessly from room to room, picking up things, then setting them down. He ached with the need for sleep, but was unable to settle. He'd tried counting sheep, but the bloody beasts had only piled up in a corner of his mental pasture. He tried clearing his mind, like he'd unsuccessfully attempted to do his fifth year, but he just mulled over his conversation with Ginny before she went home. He had finally flung himself from the recesses of his bed; feeling lost in the unfamiliar expanse of bedding, and sought refuge in a hot bath. The bath had soothed the tension in his body into bonelessness, but sleep wasn't forthcoming.

It was too quiet, Harry decided. Far too quiet. He didn't hear Ron's soft, steady snores as he fell asleep, or the ghoul clanking above them. The sounds of the Burrow were absent, and it made Harry feel homesick. He chewed his lip, staring into space, then spun on his heel, and darted into his bedroom, opening the wardrobe containing his clothing. He grabbed his newest Christmas jumper from a shelf and pulled it over his head, inhaling the mingled scents of the laundry soap Molly used and the scents of her baking that somehow permeated the laundry.

It was the scent of home. He held his arm under his nose and breathed deeply, feeling his mind still.

Harry climbed into the bed and buried his nose in the sleeve of the jumper. His eyes drifted shut and he knew nothing more.

*****

'Katie?' George shook her shoulder. 'Katie? Wake up...'

Katie blearily gazed at George's face looming over hers. 'Where are we...?' she yawned, still more than half-asleep.

'Burrow.'

'Mmmm.' Katie turned her face into George's shoulder and hooked a leg over his hip. 'Wha' time is it?'

'Almost midnight,' George said, sliding his hand up the back of her thigh, fingertips leaving a trail of gooseflesh behind them. He shifted hungrily against her, lips brushing over her hair. 'I need to go do something...' he told her reluctantly, pulling back slightly.

Katie stretched elaborately, waking up all at once. She sat up, the sheet tangled around her torso. 'Fred?' she asked succinctly.

George nodded, his eyes dark, unhappy pools in the darkened room.

Katie began to struggle from the confining sheet. 'I'll go with you.'

'You don't...' George protested softly.

'I know I don't.' Katie brushed George's hair from his face. 'But I want to.' She managed to wriggle free, and the sheet slithered to her feet in a whisper of crumpled cotton. 'Where're my trousers?' she asked distractedly, searching the floor.

George slid out of his bed, feet tangling in the abandoned sheet. 'Down there somewhere,' he murmured, gesturing toward the floor, stumbling as the sheet wrapped around his ankles. Growling in frustration, he kicked violently to rid himself of the offending piece of material, but only succeeded in slamming his toes against the frame of the bed. 'Bloody, buggering shite!' he said through clenched teeth. He sat down hard on the floor, clutching his abused toes in his hands. Tears pooled in the corners of his eyes. Tears of pain and loss that he had refused to shed all day dripped down his cheeks. 'I can't... I can't...' George palmed the tears from his face, sniffling noisily like a child. He looked up at Katie, crouching next to him. 'Could I stay with you for a few days?'

'Of course you can.'

George rested his forehead on his drawn-up knees for a moment. 'Can't be here...'

'Shhh,' Katie whispered. She unwound the sheet from George's feet. 'Come on... Get yourself dressed and we'll go...'

'Fred first,' George insisted.

'Fred first,' Katie agreed. She looked around the room and found an old school bag dangling from a hook on the back of the door. 'We'll get a few things together, then...' George nodded and lurched to his feet. He opened a few drawers in the bureau and grabbed whatever his hands happened to touch first, and stuffed it into the bag. He grabbed the jeans hanging from the bedpost and yanked them on. He took the socks Katie handed him, and drew them over his feet, then pulled on his old trainers. He pushed his wand into his pocket and cautiously opened the door. He'd heard Ron return home several hours ago, followed quite a bit later by Ginny.

George gestured for Katie to follow him. 'Stay close to the sides,' he whispered. 'Stairs won't creak so loud...' He stole down to the ground floor, holding his breath the entire time. 'I hope I haven't forgotten anything...'

'You've got some odds and ends at my flat,' Katie told him, concentrating on the stairs.

'Just as long as I don't have to go to the shop in my pants, I'll be fine,' George said softly, as they made their way into the kitchen. 'Hang on.' He rummaged in one of the drawers, coming up with a slightly bent quill and a scrap of parchment. He scrawled a note to Molly, folded the parchment, and propped it against the old teapot where she would be certain to see it. 'Let's go.'

*****

Katie slid to the ground, her back against a tree, surrounded by previous generations of Weasleys. It was oddly comforting. George knelt in front of Fred's headstone, face pressed to the cold marble. His lips moved, but she couldn't hear what he said. She burned with curiosity, but didn't dare attempt to try and eavesdrop. As far as she was concerned, what George said to Fred was between the two of them. It was quiet there, save for the murmur of the wind in the leaves of the tree above them.

'Do you remember the year Mum and Dad scrimped and saved to get us toy brooms for our birthday?' George murmured almost soundlessly. 'It was the last time we got something new for our birthday for ages.' He swallowed the lump in his throat. 'I didn't open the shop today. I think maybe I should have, though. Maybe I will next year. Half-off all Skiving Snackboxes.' The corner of his mouth lifted briefly, then fell. 'I just couldn't stand everybody looking at me today, and thinking about you. I'm going to stay with Katie for a bit... She's angling for sainthood, that girl. Puts up with me and my moods.

'You know how Mum used to say change isn't necessarily a bad thing? That may be, but every time something changes, it feels like I have to say good-bye to you all over again. I hate that I have to keep living and do all the things you'll never get to do.' George let his palm rest against Fred's name for several long moments, until the marble beneath his hand warmed and he let himself believe for the slightest instant that it was Fred's hand. 'I'll see you soon, bro...' He rose to his feet and turned toward Katie. He could tell she had drifted off by the angle of her head against the tree's trunk. It had been a long day for her. For them both. The back of George's index finger stroked with the lightness of a feather over her cheek. 'Katie?'

''m awa'...' she mumbled.

'We can go.'

''kay...' Katie took George's proffered hand, and he hauled her to her feet.

'I'll Apparate us,' George said against her ear, winding her arms around his waist, feeling a twinge of guilt that he'd allowed Katie to take on the burden of looking after him all day. Katie merely nodded in mute assent.

*****

The pile of paperwork that greeted Harry in the morning seemed to cling to his desk with invisible tentacles. He stuck out his tongue at it and dropped his bag behind the desk with a put-upon sigh, and began to leaf through it. Folders littered the surface of the desk, neatly labeled with Percy's painfully neat penmanship. Harry gingerly opened the topmost folder and was unable to stop the audible hum of distress that escaped him. Part many of the Death Eaters' sentences required they undergo questioning by Aurors. Because so many of the former Death Eaters currently resided in Azkaban, they had to go there. The Ministry wouldn't glean any more useful information from them, but it was a precaution. After learning how Barty Crouch, Jr. had managed to escape, Kingsley was taking no chances. Harry would use Legilimency to sift through their memories of the past year. It made him nauseated to just think about it. Harry dropped into the chair and sorted through the dark purple folders, cursing the day Dumbledore declared he ought to learn Occlumency and by extension, Legilimency. With the exception of Draco - and Harry still couldn't figure out for the life of him why the Ministry thought he would be the best option to deal with Draco - the rest of his list was fairly innocuous, as far as this went. He had the dubious honor of having Miles Nott on his list, having been the one to capture him last autumn. Flint, Avery, Urquhart... Even though it was only nine o'clock in the morning, Harry fought the urge to yank his glasses off and run his hands through his hair until it stood on end even more than it did now.

A head appeared over the edge of the cubicle. 'That's what happens when you take that many days off, Gladys,' said a snide voice. Harry's head snapped up at the sound. For once it wasn't Avery Carmichael, coming to gloat over his mistakes and missteps. It was one of the others. Harry could hear Hermione's voice whispering in his head, Ignore them... Still, compared to what he had received at hands of Draco and the other Slytherins, being called a girl's name was pretty tame.

'Yeah, thanks for the advice,' Harry replied neutrally. 'I'll try to keep that in mind.' The Auror smirked and continued through the winding maze of cubicles. Harry shook his head and opened the first folder to review the procedures for entering Azkaban. While it was still more than three months away, he needed the practice using Legilimency on resistant wizards. Fortunately, he had an entire office of them in the form of the younger Aurors and the trainees. Resistant... ha! Resentful is more like it... he grumbled to himself. You always wanted to be treated like everyone else, Harry, he told himself sternly. And that's what they're doing... No special favors.

*****

Harry walked into the shop, the picture of tranquility. He passed Ginny at the counter, finalizing a sale at the till, pausing to drop a quick kiss on her cheek, then headed straight for Ron, grabbing his arm in an iron grip, propelling him into the back room. 'Oi!' Ron yelped. 'That hurts! And in case you haven't noticed, mate, I've got customers waiting!'

'We need to talk.'

'Sure...' Ron gave Harry a quizzical look. 'What's going on?'

'You!' Harry huffed. 'You are the biggest hypocrite in England,' he stated heatedly.

'I beg your pardon?' Ron gasped.

Harry glared at Ron in aggravation. 'Where were you last Saturday night, eh?'

'Erm... With... I don't see how this is relevant,' Ron temporized.

'It's relevant because it means you're a bloody hypocrite,' Harry pointed out. 'You were with Hermione, no?'

'I...' Ron withered under his friend's disapproving glower.

'Exactly,' Harry said in satisfaction. He gave in to the urge that had tugged at him all day and raked a hand through his hair. 'Do I ever make a fuss about you staying the night with Hermione? Or slipping away to... Well, to do what you do?'

'No,' Ron muttered sullenly.

'Then you have to stop hovering over Gin and me every time we might spend more than five seconds alone with each other!' Harry shouted. He poked Ron in the chest. 'I'm not going to force myself on her. I had hoped you knew I had more sense than that.' Harry's hand clenched into a fist. 'And Gin is of age. In less than three months, she'll be out of school. Could you at least give her credit for being able to take care of herself? Or knowing what she wants? She doesn't need you to hover and make a fuss about the idea that she and I might do more than hold hands and play bleeding Scrabble!' he roared. 'And it's rich. It's entirely too rich coming from you. Or need I remind you about Lav-Lav?' he said acidly.

Ron blinked. 'Bad day at work, dear?' he drawled sarcastically.

Harry threw him a caustic look, and began to pace restlessly around the perimeter of the back room. 'Bugger off, Ron,' he spat.

Ron reared back at the vehemence of Harry's response. 'Sorry,' he mumbled. Harry waved him off, slightly abashed at his own anger. 'It's just...' Ron paused. 'I know what I want and who I want it with...' he stammered. 'I made plenty of stupid mistakes getting to this point, and I don't fancy seeing either you or Gin repeat them.'

'And acting like some sort of maiden aunt is going to prevent that?' Harry scoffed incredulously.

'One can hope,' Ron muttered petulantly.

Harry shook his head. 'No. You don't get to dictate what Gin and I do. I didn't make a move for her for ages at school because I was worried you'd start acting like this.'

'Like how?'

'Like some over-protective wanker. You can't act like a politician and bleat about how I ought to behave while you're acting like some bloody libertine!'

Ron's lips twitched. 'Libertine?' he snickered. 'Where did you come up with that one?'

Harry seemed to deflate. 'Spent my lunch hour browsing in a Muggle bookshop to let off steam. Saw it in a book.' He leaned his elbows on the scarred table. 'I mean it, though,' he added quietly. 'You can't keep doing that.'

Ron exhaled forcefully through his nose. 'I just don't want Ginny to get hurt.' He glanced at Harry slyly. 'You'd do the same for Hermione.'

'Might,' Harry agreed. 'Although right now, I question her taste in blokes...' He took a deep breath. 'But I also have faith in her ability to take care of herself from unwanted advances and that she'd know how to keep it a party of two and not make it a party of three.' He speared Ron with the kind of look he usually gave one of the other Aurors who had just made an idiotic, insinuating comment. 'You ought to give Gin the same consideration.'

A line appeared between Ron's eyebrows. 'Fine.' He gestured to the curtained door. 'Can I go back to my livelihood now?' he asked stiffly.

Harry pushed himself off the table. 'Ron...'

'It's fine,' Ron said, disappearing through the magenta curtain in a swirl of robes.

*****

'He was out of line!' Ron seethed, pacing around the Grangers' brightly-lit kitchen, while Hermione filled the teakettle with water and set it on the stove. Hermione rummaged blindly in a cupboard over her head for the small tin of tea leaves, making noncommittal noises while Ron vented. 'Can you believe he called me a hypocrite?'

Hermione turned to face him, the tin clutched between her hands. 'Yes. Because I called you one the other day myself.'

'That's different,' Ron argued.

Hermione's cheeks went pink with suppressed laughter. 'Oh? Edify me, then. How, Ronald, is it so different?'

'Well, it... it...' Ron spluttered. 'It just is!' he finally huffed.

Hermione set the tin on the counter and gave in to the peals of laughter she had been trying to restrain. 'Oh, Ron...' she gasped. 'That is utterly, and totally ridiculous!' Her whoops of laughter echoed off the walls and tears streamed down her face. 'I've been trying to tell you since Christmas... It is rather hypocritical of you to be so vigilant about keeping Harry and Ginny from being alone for any significant period of time, when you and I have been having sex for months now.' She spooned tea leaves into the Grangers' old brown teapot. 'Well, when I haven't been in school,' she amended. 'And we rather make up for lost time, when I am home.' She leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. 'Don't you think they would have done something by now if they were going to? It's not as if they haven't had ample opportunity.' The tea kettle whistled shrilly, and Hermione removed it from the stove and poured the water over the waiting tea leaves. 'Ginny and I discussed that particular situation when we were unpacking some of Harry's things with Luna.' Her expression grew pensive as she recalled the surprisingly mature insights from the misty-voiced Ravenclaw. There must be something in that head of hers after all, Hermione mused. Otherwise, she wouldn't be in Ravenclaw at all... 'I think you can comfort yourself with the idea that she's not going to leap into something with both feet.' Hermione deftly poured tea into two waiting cups, then added milk and lemon to one and handed it to Ron. 'Now, drink your tea, and stop bellowing like a wounded boarhound.'

Ron accepted the cup with a narrow-eyed glare at the pert girl in front of him. 'I hate it when you use logic like that.'

Hermione rose on her toes and kissed the corner of his mouth. 'You love me,' she corrected.

'Yes, I do...' Ron tilted her chin up with a finger and kissed her softly. 'Ginny's always had some sort of starry-eyed, fairy-tale image of what it would be like to be with Harry,' he admitted.

Hermione sipped her own tea and shook her head. 'Honestly, Ron... After everything she - they - have been through, Ginny does not maintain anything of the sort. Before the last few years, perhaps she did, but I doubt she's clinging to the delusions of a child now.' She wrapped an arm around his waist. 'She's grown up, Ron.'

'She's my baby sister,' he said peevishly.

'She'll be ninety, with scores of grandchildren and great-grandchildren, and Ginny will still be your baby sister,' Hermione said gently. 'Let them be and live their own lives...'

Ron scrubbed a hand over his face. 'Fine,' he muttered reluctantly. 'But that doesn't mean I have to like it.'

'No one said you had to...' Hermione sighed.

*****

Percy carefully tucked his shirt into his trousers before pulling the jumper over his head, leaving behind a mass of disordered curls. He grimaced at the image in the small mirror over his bureau and ran his hands over his hair, attempting to restore a semblance of order. The curls were a reason he'd always kept his hair cropped quite short. He hated the chaos they inflicted on his personal image. But haircuts had been few and far between over the course of the past year, and he had often worked far into the night, only making time to control the riotous curls when they fell into his eyes. He glanced at Penelope, slipping shoes onto her feet. Her hair had been twisted into a loose plait and tucked and pinned into a tasteful dishevelment on the back of her head. How in Merlin's name does she get it to do that? He shook his head, making the curls bounce cheerfully. 'Ready?'

'As ready as I'm going to be,' Penny replied with a slightly nervous smile. 'Who's going to there today?'

Percy shoved his feet into his painfully clean trainers, chewing his lip in consideration. 'Well, Mum and Dad, of course. Probably George, if he's not avoiding everyone. Ron. Ginny. Harry. And I think Hermione, because she and Ginny are taking the Knight Bus back to Hogsmeade after lunch.' Percy shrugged with one shoulder. 'Bill and Fleur might be there, and if they are, be prepared for every male in the room to go slightly barmy for a moment. Charlie might come, if he's not working.'

'So a full house, then?'

Percy exhaled explosively. 'Yeah.'

'You look nervous,' Penny observed.

'I am...' Percy ran a hand through his hair. 'The last time one of us brought someone home, Mum nearly had a fit. And that was when Bill brought Fleur to the Burrow to meet Mum and Dad the year before they got married.' He coughed lightly to clear the sudden thickening in his throat. 'Or so I'm told...'

Penny remembered seeing the ethereal Frenchwoman here and there in Diagon Alley a few years ago, and a time or two in Gringotts. She had been in the battle at Hogwarts and at the subsequent memorial and funerals for Fred, Remus, and Tonks with the rest of the Weasleys. Fleur was more than merely beautiful - she was stunning beyond words. It didn't take much imagination for Penny to understand why Molly had reacted with initial disdain and distrust for Bill's choice of bride. She probably would have done the same. 'Situations change,' she pointed out. 'We're not announcing an engagement. We're just spending a casual Sunday afternoon with your family,' she said. Percy didn't look convinced. Penny wound her arms around Percy's neck. 'We've got some time,' she whispered.

'We do,' Percy demurred, hands working at the hem of her jumper.

'Perhaps I might be able to offer something in the way of distraction?' Penny suggested.

Percy deliberately removed his glasses and set them just so on top of the bureau. 'It's always the quiet ones,' he murmured approvingly.

'Just because I don't flaunt my sexuality like that Parkinson girl doesn't mean I can't do this...' Penny chuckled throatily as her wandering hands made Percy's eyes shut tightly.

'Thank God for that,' Percy breathed hoarsely.

*****

As soon as he had scraped the last of his spotted dick from the plate with his spoon, George escaped the kitchen and fled to the relative sanctuary offered by the back garden, squeezing Katie's hand apologetically before he blundered through the door. George hoisted himself onto the stone wall, lifting his face to the weak sunshine that poked cautious fingers through the low layer of grey clouds. He was intensely aware that he only had just under a month before he would be assaulted anew by a deluge of loss once more. Even so, he was astounded that almost a year had passed and the changes it had wrought. Especially the one that just ambled into the garden, George said to himself. Percy held the gate open for a woman George vaguely recognized from Hogwarts, and clasped her hand in his as she came through it. This wasn't a Percy George knew from living memory. The back of Percy shirttail peeped from under his jumper, the collar of the shirt was askew, and even his hair was more tumbled that it had been lately. George didn't know whether to laugh aloud or to be impressed at the power the woman - Penelope... Penelope Clearwater - George recalled, eyes widening, held over Percival Ignatius Weasley. Deciding to forgo the outright humor, and veer into the impressed territory, George slid off the wall and intercepted Percy and Penny. 'Bit late for lunch, aren't you?' he called, with a swift glance upward. This has to be Fred's birthday gift to me... he thought gleefully.

Percy tugged at his collar. 'Erm... a bit...'

George grinned with a shadow of his former impishness and turned to Penny. 'I'm George,' he said, offering a hand.

'I remember,' Penny said in amusement. She tried to unobtrusively peek at George's hand for hidden tricks or pranks. It didn't go unnoticed by George. He held his palm out to her and pushed back the sleeve of his shirt.

'You're safe,' he told her, holding out his hand once more. This time, Penny shook it firmly.

'Penelope Clearwater,' she said.

'I remember,' George said in a conscious echo of her greeting.

'You can call me Penny,' she added.

'You can call me George.' His eyes glistened briefly, but he blinked back the tears. 'Or Forge is I'm being particularly obstinate.' Thank you, Fred! George couldn't have asked for a better gift than Percy's discomfiture over not only being late, but of what George could only surmise had been the activity that had made them late, if he were to judge by the shadowed bite on Percy's neck, just under his ear. They must have not noticed that one... George bit his lip to maintain his neutral expression. He'd seen such marks with such alarming frequency on Ron or Hermione last summer as to not know what they signified. 'Mum was wondering what was keeping you,' George said to Percy, eyeing Penny. 'Can't say I blame you...'

'George!' Percy hissed, finally goaded into speech.

'Unless you want Mum to realize what kept you,' George began, fingering his own neck below where his right ear used to be, 'you might want to do something about that... Seems to be a Weasley trait... Red hair, freckles, post-coital bite marks,' he reflected. 'That makes three of us, so far...'

Percy scrabbled for his wand, but Penny coolly took hers from a pocket and pointed it at him. A few whispered words and the mark faded. 'There,' she soothed. 'Although you might want to tuck in your shirt in the back.' She reached for the collar, straightening and smoothing it into something more resembling the Percy George knew.

'Thanks,' Percy muttered, not ungratefully. 'My birthday gift to you,' he said to George, as he approached the back door of the Burrow. 'Enjoy...' he added, as they stepped into the kitchen to a sudden silence in the buzz of conversation.

George sighed happily. Not that he enjoyed seeing Percy humiliated like that, but it had been rather enjoyable to take the mickey out of his older brother again. Just like old times.

*****

Harry stood in the lane, hands jammed into his pockets, as he watched the large, purple, triple-decker bus lumber away a few feet before it lurched away with a loud bang that ricocheted around the valley for a moment. He glanced at Ron standing next to him, in the same pose, then began to walk in the opposite direction the Knight Bus had taken. Ron immediately followed. 'Ginny and I don't feel as if we must do everything you and Hermione do,' he said casually.

'Brilliant,' Ron mumbled to his shoes.

'Although,' Harry said thoughtfully, 'I'd rather not die a virgin.'

Ron glared at him, speechless with shock, eyes bulging.

Harry grinned. 'But since nobody's been actively trying to kill me for the past year, I suppose I can wait a while longer, eh?' He walked for several minutes in companionable silence. 'Look, Ron... Gin and I are perfectly happy where we are in our relationship,' he said firmly. 'You and Hermione... You've been all but betrothed since the day we went after Aragog. I'm not saying it was inevitable, but the two of you were best friends for ages.' He exhaled slowly. 'Ginny and I need the time to be friends before we're lovers, all right?' He stole a look at Ron, walking stoically next to him. 'All right?' he repeated.

'All right...'