Silent Witness

"Put your trousers back on this instant!" was not the best thing to hear this early on a Monday morning, Harry decided. But that didn't seem to deter Ginny Weasley from screaming it at the top of her lungs. Arriving at the Burrow could never be considered uninteresting, that was certain.

Harry's distant dreams of a late sleep seemed irrevocably dashed since William Weasley had been brought into the world. The two days following Christmas Day had proclaimed themselves a time of calm. The calm before the storm, more specifically. And now, on the 30^th of December, all hell had broken loose.

The shock had worn off and the celebration was beginning. Harry supposed he ought not be resenting the festivities. There had been ten years of war and now the Wizarding world was basking in its freedom. They shouldn't have been bothering themselves the way Harry was. The technicalities of war were unimportant to the general public. Rounding up the last of the Death Eaters seemed a minute detail in the grand scheme of things and the abruptness of Voldemort's departure from this world was nothing more than good cause to open a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey. The Prophecy had been fulfilled; Harry was no longer a beacon of hope (in which faith had been slowly dwindling) but a champion who would forever be immortalized.

The entire situation made him positively nauseous.

The other thing making Harry nauseous was the sight, sound, and smell of Jimmy Fitzgerald. Jimmy Fitzgerald was twenty nine, a member in the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and utterly obnoxious. Why was he utterly obnoxious one might ask? Well, there were several answers for which Harry would be more than happy to provide an eager listener. He was arrogant and pompous, held himself with far more confidence than could be trusted, had a ridiculously cheesy smile, and oh yes - he happened to be going out with Ginny Weasley.

So, as Ginny's voice floated in from the kitchen - yelling about replacing trousers, Harry couldn't help but pray to all the powers he held dear that she wasn't talking to Jimmy Fitzgerald, whose insufferable laughter was mingled with Ginny's screams.

Steeling every fiber of his Gryffindor nerve, Harry pushed open the door that led to the kitchen, and stood with bated breath.

The newest member of the Weasley family was squirming in a small carry-cot, perched atop the large oak table. Bill's hands had all but disappeared inside his mouth and his bright blue eyes were beaming into the identical ones of his Godmother. Ginny had both hands balanced on her slightly bent knees as she smiled down at the infant.

A long lock of red hair had escaped from behind her ear to tickle the tip of her nose. Harry watched her with his head slightly cocked, wondering if someone would give out to him for staring when she looked up, smiling.

"Harry! I didn't know you were going to be here today."

He shrugged awkwardly. "Neither did I until I got an owl from Hermione. She and Ron were supposed to meet me here. They wanted to talk about something."

That was another reason this entire visit had left Harry in some trepidation. He'd known his friends for a long time and whenever they had enough foresight to plan a meeting, it rarely meant anything good. And Harry had a nagging feeling that he knew just what that 'nothing good' was.

There was an awkward pause in which Ginny looked blankly back at him, a pair of baby pants in her hand. Those apparently were the ones that had needed replacing.

"You remember Jimmy?" Ginny indicated to the stocky man to her left, as she ran a gentle hand down his arm. Harry felt a sudden rush of heat pour over him. He nodded stiffly and hoped to leave it at that. But his hopes were not to be realized.

"And how could I forget you, eh?" There was that cheesy smile. "Harry Potter. Our illustrious savior." The man extended his meaty hand and Harry shook it - briefly. "Always thought you could have served us better on a Quidditch field rather than the battlefield, though," Jimmy gesticulated with a large and phony wink.

Harry knew his smile could more accurately be described as a rictus. He returned his attention to Ginny. Distraction was good - especially if it was the sort that would make her hand move away from Jimmy Fitzgerald's arm. "Where's everyone else?"

"Well, Mum and the kids are back at St. Mungo's with Fleur," she replied. "She was here just a while ago, to drop Bill off. Thought it would be easier to get Fleur back home without having her worry about the baby. We were just changing him." Ginny lifted up the small jeans in indication.

That awkward silence was encroaching again and he couldn't help but dart his eyes nervously towards the door. If Hermione and Ron didn't show up soon -

"Are you coming to the New Year's Party?" [Author ID0: at ]

[Author ID1: at Tue Dec 5 16:50:00 2006 ]

He blinked, trying to comprehend just what she was talking about. [Author ID0: at ]

[Author ID1: at Tue Dec 5 16:50:00 2006 ]

"Everyone's going to be here. Mum's going spare about the whole thing," Ginny elaborated, seeming to sense his confusion.

"Oh, um-" He scratched his head. Great, Potter, good time to go ape. "I dunno. I suppose - probably." Harry shrugged again; his heart was hammering. It was unnerving that in each instance he'd run into Ginny, she'd managed to make him feel like he was beneath the shadows of a swinging overhead light inside a dark, enclosed room with a mustached interrogator sporting a New York accent.

Since Arthur's promotion to Minister, not much had changed throughout the Burrow other than an increase in propriety of its occupants. There was no decision to be made on whether or not to stay at the Burrow: it was the Weasley home and nothing could replace that. But, of course, adding a few accoutrements never hurt anyone.

Harry had lent out the services of both Dobby and Winky to Molly, but she couldn't resist getting a House Elf of her own - Spritz. She was a lively little thing and the two of them gabbed like old friends. But their fondness for one another didn't seem to ease the ferocity of Hermione's stare. Despite the fact that Mrs. Weasley now had the duty of holding several annual Ministry functions didn't seem to ease his friend's aversion to household help.

While her passion for the rights of magical creatures hadn't died, Harry couldn't help but be thankful for the fact that it was reduced to a gentle simmer. Just out of Hogwarts, Hermione had made her way towards the employment office for the Being Division in the Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and had held a position there for only a few weeks. A large number of the departments had to be cut back for budget purposes, and at the time, Magical Creatures wasn't on the top of the priority list.

With a large amount of persuasion on his part, Arthur convinced Hermione that she was over-qualified and had skills that could be put to much better use in a field benefiting the war effort. Her sense of duty seemed to overpower her desire for the good of Magical Creature kind and she'd begrudgingly agreed to take a higher position in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. In her first year there it would have taken a lot of cunning to get Hermione to admit to just how much she loved her job, but there was no hiding it now. She was a powerful woman and had done a damn good job at it. But that soft spot in her heart for all things oppressed had yet to dwindle.

"Then the memorial's coming up a few days after that," Ginny resumed, her arms fluttering to cross over her chest. Harry felt a triumphant leap somewhere round his middle. It was suddenly much easier to concentrate now that her hand wasn't lingering anywhere on the person of Jimmy Fitzgerald.

There was an unexpected bang as the door leading into the foyer flew open, bouncing off the hinges - a fair imitation of the new arrivals. Harry felt an altogether release of tension as the familiar faces of Ron and Hermione squeezed their way through the small opening, rosy cheeked.

"Ron! For goodness sake, you ought to know the difference between women's and men's clothes by now," Hermione admonished him. For all the sternness in her voice, the glimmer of mischief in her eye was impossible to miss.

"Why ought I to know that?" He guffawed. "It's muggle stuff! They've got it all backwards." Ron tossed Harry a cheeky grin as he flopped onto the nearest chair.

"I don't suppose it would kill you to actually read the directory, would it? They've got signs everywhere." She shook her head, heaving several overstuffed bags onto the tile counter.

"'Bout as much as it would kill me to pick up Hogwarts, A History," his best friend was now muttering as he stuffed a half-peeled banana into his mouth. Hermione tossed him an admonishing look from the other side of the room. Whether she'd actually heard his complaints, or could just sense his mood, Harry didn't know.

"Harry." Hermione suddenly turned on him, with a look in her eyes that reminded Harry of his primary school teacher. Cowed, it came back to him that he hadn't been looking forward to this meeting. But considering his other option was staying here with Jimmy Fitzgerald, Harry decided it was safer for all involved if he just took his chances with Hermione. "Are you ready for our little meeting?"

Ginny started, moving to pick Bill up from his cradle. "We'll clear off if you like-"

"No, don't be silly, Ginny," Hermione remonstrated. "We'll go out in the garden. You and Jimmy continue." She dropped her friend a small wink before taking hold of Ron's hand and dragging him towards the backdoor with a force that would make any combat Auror proud.

Harry had barely a moment to wonder if he could escape now, when he was borne down under the glare of a bushy haired young woman, who seemed to realize just where his thoughts were leading. With a piteous glance in Ginny's direction, Harry made his way morosely to the outdoor gazebo, dread seeped into each step.

The feeling of being back in primary school returned with full force as Harry took his seat on the small wooden bench. Hermione and Ron were across from him, their knees barely touching, and their gazes firmly focused - on him. Harry felt his insides squirm and tried to regain his nerve. It wouldn't do to be nervous when trying to hand out rejection. But the fact that Ron was even looking a little bit anxious did nothing to appease Harry's own anxiety.

"Harry we want you to move in with us."

Harry felt his cheeks tighten. It was what he'd expected - and what he'd dreaded. It wasn't surprising that Hermione was the one to bring it up, but she didn't seem to be going in on this one alone. Harry had just opened his mouth to refuse when Ron beat him to the punch.

"You can't live in a tent forever, mate."

He blinked, a little non-plussed. "I know that-"

"Harry, things haven't been easy for you lately." Hermione was taking on that tone, that Molly-Weasley-tone. It was best to stop her mid-stride.

"Things haven't been easy for anyone-"

"Yes, but you need someone to look after you-"

"Hermione, I'm not a child." He was standing now. "I'm a grown man, I've just defeated Lord Voldemort for goodness sake."

"We know mate," Ron objected, "just sit down and hear us out." He sat. "You need a place to stay and we all know that you don't do too well when you're left on your own to brood."

"Now-"

"It's not meant to be offensive Harry," Hermione amplified, holding up a placating hand. "It's just a fact."

"I can find a place to stay."

"Spending the night on a camp-bed in some bar, doesn't count, Harry," Ron guffawed.

Hermione cast him a reproving look. Sarcasm was obviously not the tactic she wanted him to follow. "We want you to be with us. You're our friend. You know that. This just might be a good chance for us to recuperate. To be an us again."

Harry gaped, shaking his head.

"Just think about it."

Watching Harry Potter from her position of leaning against the balcony door frame, hidden within shadows, holding two flutes of champagne, was probably not the right thing for Ginny Weasley to be doing when her boyfriend was in the other room waiting for her to return.

She watched the long trail of ash fall off the end of Harry's lit cigarette, scattering in the breeze and sweeping into the distance. He didn't seem to care, though. In fact, he wasn't even concentrating on the cigarette dangling precariously between his fingers. Ginny had the sudden urge to take it from him before he dropped it and set the entire place on fire. But before she could step forward, the butt was being ground into the railing of the banister and Harry was tossing it over the edge.

But that was all second nature; it was obvious he wasn't aware of his own actions. His movements were entirely habitual. No, Harry Potter was more concerned with his flute of champagne than with the now extinguished cigarette. Ginny brought a hand to her mouth to stifle the giggle that was threatening to erupt. Harry's eyes were roaming the glass with a child-like curiosity. He'd even craned his neck to look up the flute from the bottom of the base.

It was silent, oddly silent... none of the ruckus from the party just rooms away could be heard. The sun was setting, casting soft orange, purple, and pink hues across the hills in front of them and over the balcony they occupied. It would only last for a few minutes, the sun was nearly out of sight, and the stars would soon replace it in the steadily---- darkening sky.

Harry unconsciously broke the silence between them, releasing a loud sigh, dropping his curious investigation of the champagne glass in favor of staring off at the fragment of sun that remained visible from behind the now-dark hills. He stood slumped over the railing, his elbows resting lightly on the edge.

Ginny bit her lip and considered her next move. Glancing down at the two glasses in her hands, she looked over her shoulder - back towards the door she'd come through. Harry didn't exactly know she was there; she could just slip back out and join Jimmy in the other room. That would have been the proper thing to do. But Ginny Weasley was never one to do the proper thing. Something kept her there, watching the tousle-haired man in front of her.

He absentmindedly tilted the glass in his hand to the side, letting it go as far as it could before the bubble filled drink inside tipped out. Farther and farther he'd let the flute go sideways in his hand until finally a trickle of liquid fell from it, catching the last flickers of light before the sun went down, and hit the ground, stories beneath them.

"That'll kill the plants."

Completely startled, Harry dropped his drink, the glass along with it, into a tangle of shrubs below. He peered over the ledge and stared blankly down at the now non-existent glass.

"Shit."

Ginny's mind was made up for her; even if she wasn't sure it was the best decision. As though something had taken her over, she took a few steps across the balcony and handed him one of the glasses of champagne. The one intended for Jimmy, her conscience reminded her.

"Toast?"

Harry accepted the glass gratefully; about to drain it as fast as he'd drained the rest he'd had that night, when he realized Ginny was expecting him to say something. She had a faint smile on her lips, a mixture of amusement and genuine happiness.

Blinking several times to clear his head, Harry tore his eyes away from her. He couldn't breathe with her looking at him like that, let alone make a toast.

"To the future. It appears we have one now."

She apparently had no problems with breathing, as she calmly clinked her glass against his and took a sip of the cool, bubbly drink. He didn't though. He couldn't. And wasn't that something? Harry Potter not being able to take a drink - that was a first.

The only thing he could do was watch her. Watch the way she ever so slightly closed her eyes as she brought the glass to her lips and let the champagne fall into her mouth. When Ginny realized he was watching her, Harry became even more engrossed by the way his attention brought an amused smirk to her face.

"Well aren't you going to take a drink? It's bad luck if you don't."

Almost obediently, Harry took a drink, but his eyes were still fixed on Ginny over the rim of his glass. He couldn't breathe, but he didn't care. She was getting flustered; her normally pale cheeks were turning a soft pink, slowly reddening the longer he kept his eyes on her.

Not more than a moment later, she broke away from their tenuous connection and looked out towards the open fields behind the house.

Harry swallowed hard in an attempt to regain his somewhat drunken composure before resuming his earlier position of arms hanging languidly over the balcony, his glass balancing precariously between his fingers. A few awkward moments later and he was bringing the glass to his lips, draining as much as the tightness in his throat would allow.

"I'm giving people false hope."

Ginny looked over at Harry, a question in her eyes. But Harry didn't see it. His eyes were fully focused on his near empty glass, not diverting his attention for a moment. That was classic Harry. He'd always taken the position that avoidance was the ultimate key to holding it all together. And for him that could have very well been true.[Author ID1: at Wed Dec 13 16:14:00 2006 ]

"What?"

If he hadn't seen the question in her eyes before, her tone made her confusion obvious. Even he didn't know why he'd said it. It wasn't any of Ginny's business why he was feeling more like an outsider than he'd ever felt in his life. But the words just kept spewing from his mouth, in spite of himself.

"I'm a shit. I can't let it go. It's over and I can't fucking give it up. Dumbledore shouldn't have died. I wasn't alone defeating him. But now that he's gone, I've never felt more alone in my entire damn life."

Ginny was truly shocked by what he was saying. She had no idea he felt like that, and it tore her up inside to see him that way, so defeated, so broken inside. She had no idea why she cared, considering the fact that she had her own boyfriend's feelings to worry about.

A boyfriend. One who albeit, a little over-eager, was a good man - and he was a lot less complicated then Harry sodding Potter. But Ginny knew that complicated came with territory. Where it got really difficult was getting Harry to talk about it. But that didn't seem to be an issue tonight. Harry could hold his liquor, but not tonight. No, not tonight. He'd decided to loosen his lips the one time she'd decided to make conversation. It was her rotten good luck.

All thoughts of Jimmy dissipated like leaves in the wind and she found herself putting a reassuring hand on Harry's arm.

"You're never alone, Harry."

He finally looked up at the nearly empty glass. That statement alone was enough to make Harry forget about the champagne completely.

He was never alone. It didn't feel that way though. It was like every place he turned, he was alone, and just when he thought he couldn't get any lonelier, he did. But Ginny was there now, and for God's sake, it was Ginny!

Ginny, who could make him stop breathing with one look. Ginny, who could make his stomach do flip flops until he felt sick. Ginny, who was telling him he wasn't alone. Ginny, who was so damn perfect...

Harry forgot all pretense and took an alarmingly large step towards the auburn haired woman next to him. Ginny blinked up at him, surprised at their close proximity. Unconsciously, she took a step back, but her heel chose that moment to snag on the hem of her dress, making her lose her balance. She knew she should have gone for that knee length gown. But even in his drunken state, Harry's reflexes were quicker than Ginny's, and he took hold of her arm to steady her.

She reached down with her free hand and gathered the loose fabric from under her heel, and took another step back. Harry followed her, matching her pace and quickly closing the gap between them once more.

Ginny kept her eyes glued on his, but continued in the futile effort of opening the distance between them: that safe, comfortable distance that was necessary to keep this merely a conversation between friends. However, it was quickly becoming obvious that the conversation was nothing of the sort.

It was his turn to smile down at her with amusement as he took another step in her direction. He was closer to Ginny than he'd ever allowed himself before. So close, in fact, that he could see every sparkle of the glitter that was brushed across her cheeks. So close, that he could feel her breath on his cheek. So close, Harry was certain she could hear his heart pounding against his chest.

She stood there for a moment, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything except look at him, looking at her, his eyes glassy with drunken oblivion.

In a last-ditch attempt to end the little dance they were playing with each other, Ginny slowly took one last step away from him, but in one fell swoop, hit the wall behind her, causing her champagne glass to be jolted from her hand. It fell from her grasp over the edge of the balcony and gracefully tumbled into the plants below. Her other hand let the bunched satin of her dress fall back down to the stone tiles at her feet. Ginny couldn't help it. She glanced over the balcony to where the glass had fallen into the bushes, probably somewhere near where Harry's had landed before. Reluctantly, but with a hint of irony, Ginny brought her eyes back to his.

"Shit."

He seemed to be shaking with repressed mirth and, with a smirk in her direction, Harry turned the glass upward, draining it of its last drops. Then, with a wink, he tossed it onto the grass below.

"Why'd you do that?"

"Because I only had one free hand."

"Why do you need two hands?"

Ginny wasn't stupid. She knew what came next. She couldn't exactly say she wasn't expecting it. Hell, she couldn't even say she didn't want it to happen. Why else hadn't she continued back down to the party, where by now, she was sure Jimmy was perplexed as to why she hadn't come back.

It was a good thing she'd locked the door when she'd come in. That way he couldn't come find her. So yes, Ginny had wanted this to happen, even if she hadn't admitted it to herself.

"So I can do this."

Harry took that one last step needed so that Ginny's tiny body was pressed up against his, and so that they were both pinned up against the wall. In one fell swoop, he covered her lips with his and kissed her, not bothering to worry about formalities. He was drunk. Intoxicated. Inebriated. Definitely sloshed.

But aside from all that, he was kissing Ginny, passionately and without any hesitation.

And Ginny was kissing him back. She trailed her dainty hand along his collarbone, up his neck, and through his hair, scrunching it between her fingers as she stood on her tip toes to reach Harry's height. She was blissfully unaware that being pressed between a wall and Harry Potter's body, so close to him that she could feel his heart pounding against his chest, was not where she was supposed to be. All thoughts of Jimmy Fitzgerald had vanished into the abyss.

That was probably the precise reason that, when Harry pulled his face away from hers just a fraction of an inch, and whispered into her kiss-swollen lips that he wanted to take her inside, she didn't pull back and slap him across the face as any other self respecting young lady might have. According to what her mother had taught her anyway. And definitely not according to law one of the unofficial Harry Potter fan club.

No, Ginny merely tilted her head to the side, her eyes hooded with desire, before reaching up and wrapping both hands around his neck. He leaned down to kiss her once again and as he did, his hands moved down her petite body until he could scoop her up in his arms.

With that, Harry pushed open the pair of wooded French doors with his foot and carried her inside, reminiscent of a true esquire, unable to contain himself any longer. Both he and Ginny would be otherwise occupied this night, if the unscrupulous grins upon both their faces were any indications.

Jimmy who?