Eventually You

Sometimes,

thought Ginny, her patience wearing thin as yet another passing wizard ogled her before hurrying away looking awestruck, it really sucks to be me.

The twenty-year-old redhead was sitting at a long table in The Leaky Cauldron, currently lacking the friends and family she knew would be even later than she herself usually was. It had been pure good fortune that she was on time today, the sleet and altogether maudlin weather encouraging her to stay at home with a good book before Apparating to London, rather than attempting any work in which she would have been sure to become immersed.

Catching sight of the clock behind the ancient bar, Ginny heaved another sigh, seeming to the passing elderly witch entirely too world-weary to come from one so small and young. The witch then told herself that this was a Weasley, and all the wizarding knew of their importance in the Second War, as surely as they knew of Harry Potter. But the witch did not dwell, knowing just as surely how much that same public knowledge was unwanted and unappreciated. She had seen the young woman scowl at a portly old man only minutes before, and so she left the youngster to her privacy.

Ginny, lost in her thoughts and memories, had not seen the small old lady pause, a look of profound sadness and wonder in her watery eyes. Instead she had turned to fiddling with her long hair - she'd need to get it cut soon if the split ends were any indication. Her assessment of her locks was shortly after cut short and her attention pulled back into the bustling reality of The Leaky Cauldron by an all-too-familiar set of faces at the door. A tall gangly man, his long nose as ruddy as his hair from the cold, accompanied a bundled-up woman with bushy brown hair escaping from beneath her woollen hat. Hot - or maybe cold - on their heels came an equally-frozen looking pair; a round-faced man with a sweet, open face and a dreamy-looking blonde, her large eyes looking surprised at finding herself there. The foursome almost immediately spotted the flaming mane of red, and hastily crossed the pub to her.

The youngest Weasley smiled, grateful for her hair at that singular moment; no one could lose any of her family in a crowded place, the hair was like a beacon. At last, some company, she thought, getting up to seize her brother in a freezing hug which left her supremely sympathetic to the chattering teeth of the bedraggled foursome at the table. She helped Neville out of his sodden cloak as Hermione conjured a Bluebell Flame around which they all sat, huddled.

"So Gin," her brother said, his thawing face regaining its frank, wide grin, "How's my favourite sister today?"

"I'm your only sister, Ron - you know as well as I do that what the twins did to Charlie that summer was temporary." Ron chuckled as Hermione looked askance at them. Ginny gave her a noncommittal shrug as movement at the door caught her eye once again. Turning she saw the arrival of yet more of her nearest and dearest; identical redheads laughing raucously, a cheery-looking young man clutching a camera, an aging yet kindly-looking man talking amiably with a foreboding man whose scarred face looked worse than usual in the somewhat dim light of the tavern. As these figures approached the table Ginny was able to see a fair few more familiar faces and was glad that she'd had the foresight to steadfastly hang onto this table upon her arrival - it was starting to look as if the crowd amassing would need most of it.

The chatter grew slowly in volume as introductions were made and acquaintances renewed. Colin began taking pictures as if the group were about to flee in terror at any moment. Ginny gave a grim smile as she made her way to the bar for another Butterbeer - it was a normal reaction to try and rush; the Second War had taught everyone how precious time was, and just how little of it some people got. The young woman berated herself sharply as she accepted her Butterbeer and change from Tom; now was not the time for pointless reminiscences. This was a celebration, after all - it wasn't every day that your brother and his best friend became certified Aurors, now was it? That in mind, she turned to her neighbour at the huge bar - she hadn't seen Dean Thomas for a fair few months, and she struck up a brief conversation before inviting him and his companions - she could see Parvati, Lavender and Seamus some feet away - to join them. Dean assured her they would as soon as they had their own drinks, and with a quick round of pleasantries with her old housemates Ginny found herself back at her own rather energetic table.

She sank into the chair beside Ron, opposite Neville with a smile. She listened to Luna's recount of her father's recent adventure to Milton Keynes in search of the ever-elusive Green-Toed Platypillar - "It's a very rare creature, you see, and can only be seen on Wednesday afternoons..." as she gazed at the almost complete arrangement of faces at the table. The group contained several older yet still oh-so-familiar faces from Hogwarts - mostly her seniors but a few, like Luna, from her own year; Lavender and Parvati had sequestered themselves at her own end of the table, while Seamus was hearing all about West Ham's latest match from a near-hysterical Dean - "You wouldn't believe it, it was like, whoa..." - Ginny wasn't sure whether Dean's seemingly imminent heart attack should worry her or whether she should feel more concern for the trapped-looking Seamus. Further down and on her left Professor Moody was in quiet and intense conversation with another old teacher, Professor Lupin - Ginny's mind just couldn't bring itself to call them anything but 'Professor', however many times she told her subconscious off. Beside Lupin, and separated from Ginny by Hermione and Ron, who were gazing adoringly at each other (this seemed to be the source of at least some of Lavender and Parvati's giggling, Ginny noted with a mental eye roll) sat Ginny's own dear friend Nymphadora Tonks - or, as she preferred, 'just plain Tonks'.

Tonks had changed the least of any of them - one of the many perks of being a metamorphmagus was that her hair was its habitual short and spiky pink without need for dying or cutting, causing Ginny to again remind herself to tend to her own locks soon. She noted that Tonks was in her favourite outfit of customised jeans and a Weird Sisters t-shirt, which made Ginny remember the Order's 'meeting' with the Dursleys at the end of her fourth year when Tonks had looked just as vibrant as she did now. She was grinning unrepentantly across the table at the Weasley twins - Fred and George were in fits of hysterical laughter over whatever it was she had just said, and Ginny saw that even Professor Lupin - Remus, her brain chided - was trying to suppress a smile.

"Ginny?"

She turned, face quizzical, and was suddenly bathed in blinding purple light, causing her to squeak and flap her hand before her face.

"Colin..." she sighed, exasperated - a habit she had doubtlessly picked up from her mother - and trying to hide her happiness at seeing her dearest friend so like his old self for once. He grinned at her, and she was utterly unable to prevent herself from grinning back; since the death of his brother Dennis in their fifth year Colin had been through a lot, and Ginny delighted in seeing him out in the world again. However, he was never above chastisement where and when it was deserved. "Don't you have enough pictures of me yet? I do live with you, after all."

The blond's grin was completely lacking any remorse when he chirped, "But you looked like you needed waking up!" He ruffled her hair as he walked past, eager to snap pictures of Tonks as she reduced the twins to little more than giggling heaps with her anecdotes, snatches of which floated down to table to Ginny.

"...and then he says 'Well what's the point now Tonks? You've woken it up!' So then-"

The terrific flash of Colin's camera cut her off with a yelp of surprise and she turned, over-balancing in typical Tonks fashion and falling off her chair with a second high-pitched noise. This sent not only Fred and George but the whole table into gales of laughter which set Hermione's bluebell flame fluttering until she had the presence of mind to disperse it; she knew, just as Ginny did, that if she didn't it would likely end with someone getting set on fire.

Once Tonks had established herself back in her seat to the accompaniment of Colin's giggle-coated apologies and the chatter had once again settled itself down to a pleasant buzz, Ginny found herself talking with Neville about his new job - he had recently taken a job at a small Herbological estate in Lancashire which supplied both Diagon Alley and Hogwarts among its many clients.

"And there're these plants that're so rare, I'd barely even heard of some of them... It's just so nice there Gin, and it's so lovely to be able to be near home again, y'know?"

Ginny had seen Neville pine for his home when they had been forced into hiding during the War, and was immensely happy on his behalf; she had also felt a personal thrill at being able to create a stable base without fear of its being discovered and destroyed. The small flat she and Colin had been renting for a few months now may not be a palace, but they had scraped for it and it was every inch theirs, right down to the threadbare sofa cushions and her abominably messy bedroom. Ginny in return told Neville - and Luna, who at least appeared to be listening - about her job at the Magical Menagerie, with all its attendant craziness and mishaps. She related how, only last week, Mundungus had wandered in, only to knock into a fire-crab's cage and get himself badly singed. He'd also had something fairly flammable secreted within his coat, as she recounted to Neville how his coat had emitted suspicious hissing sounds and reddish smoke as he beat a hasty retreat.

"Hey," said Ron abruptly, causing both Ginny and her audience of two to turn to him, as did Hermione and Professor Lupin, their conversation also disrupted. "Anyone know when Harry's getting here?"

Hermione sighed, and Ginny thought wryly that maybe the blame for her own put-upon sounds did not rest solely with her mother. "Ron, you know where Harry is. He told you he was going back home for a bit first. Honestly..."

"Well, it's just that he's been a bit long, hasn't he?" said Ron. "I mean, we can hardly get started properly without him, now can we? And then we've all got to get back to The Burrow and Mum'll throw a fit if we're late..."

Hermione softened. "I'm sure he's alright, Ron. And he'll be here - he always is." Those words of wisdom imparted, she turned back to her conversation as if nothing at all had happened.

Ron, apparently not quite so eager to return to his previous action of staring alternately at the various groups holding discussions and the back of Hermione's head, now turned to Ginny. "Whaddaya think, Gin? How long d'you think he'll be?"

Ginny opened her mouth, intending to more or less repeat what Hermione had just said, when Luna had one her rare moments of semi-lucidity. "Oh, he'll be alright," she said, her large eyes fixed on him. "He won't be long."

"Er... right," said Ron, in a tone of voice which Ginny had come to despise during her fourth and fifth years; it was a tone Harry and Ron adopted when they were trying to get away from her 'uncool, weird friends'. It was that tone of voice which prompted Ginny to, quite deliberately, turn her attention back to Neville with an imperious toss of her long hair.

Ginny opened her mouth to encourage Neville into returning to their conversation, when her eye was caught, for the third time that day, by a familiar presence at the door. He was slim, some would say skinny, dressed in black robes which made his hair seem impossibly blacker and his eyes, hidden behind misty glasses, an almost ludicrous green. He had spotted the amassed crowd immediately, of course - they were about as hard to miss as Professor Snape in a field of happy, dancing flowers - but he remained alone by the door, staring at the table. And Ginny stared at the silent, scarred hero she had once called her friend; Harry Potter.

~~~

Harry passed from the freezing, malicious December sleet into the welcoming warmth of The Leaky Cauldron with grim relief. Harry was feeling pretty detached about everything these days - right down to the knowledge that his glasses were steaming up from the sudden temperature change. He heaved a huge sigh as he felt the wave of hush and the whisper of turning heads reach out, as if he were the epicentre of some strange shockwave. He felt the stares, the raised eyebrows, the near-reverent expressions, without needing to see them; he'd seen them practically every day of his life since his induction into the wizarding world. He stood straight instead, shoulders squared and chin lifted, his eyes glued to the table on the far side of the pub as his vision slowly became less misty. He saw the flashes of Weasley red and violent pink, curled his lip into a half-smile and crossed the pub to their table.

"All right, Harry?" asked Colin, grinning at him as he seized his camera off the table and snapping a picture before Harry had time to react.

The purple flash did something to alleviate his numbness, at least temporarily. He smiled grimly at Colin and confirmed his status as 'fine' before he sat down at the only space left at the table; between Neville and Dean, opposite Ginny and Colin. The mousy young man, seemingly ready to burst with excitement as if he were a first year again, started to aim again with his camera. Ginny, smiling guilelessly at the bouncing boy, reached out and plucked the camera from his grasp, setting it in Ron's lap. Colin affected a shocked look at his companion and a brief tickling match ensued, accompanied by a lot of yelps and squeaks of laughter on Ginny's part as Colin claimed victory.

Harry, for his part, did not find these happenings anywhere near as amusing as did his friends. While they cheered and laughed at the pair's antics, he sat still, unresponsive. Inside, he was brooding. It was a habit he had picked up since he began his solitary residence of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, and had escalated into an almost unbroken, perpetuating cycle, pulling him further down into memories and feelings which began the cycle anew. And right now he was brooding on the fact that Ginny and Colin could be so casually affectionate and carefree, that they could laugh and enjoy life and each other while he, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, could do nothing but watch from afar, feeling somehow... lacking. Shouldn't he be the one to laugh and cheer, wasn't it his right as the destroyer of Lord Voldemort?

As the pair regained their composure and started an amiable discussion, Harry pondered what exactly had happened between him and Ginny since his sixth year - it had seemed that after that terrible fight in his sixth year they had drawn their lines in the sand. Now, five years later and still they behaved rather coldly towards each other, her stubbornness and his emotional baggage still a huge incumbency to any reconstruction of a friendship.

Lost as he was in his thoughts, Harry only became aware very gradually that Lupin had stood, garnering everyone's attention. He couldn't help the warm, grateful smile that creaked its way onto his face - Lupin had an almost indescribable way of making you feel as if any problem at all could be solved with a chocolate biscuit and a cup of tea.

"It's my pleasure to be here, on Ron and Harry's night, to be able to say a few words of congratulations." Here Lupin paused to raise his glass, mimicked by all, "And to wish them all the best in their careers; if any pair deserve some luck, it's you two."

The chorus of cheers and laughter surrounded Harry as he was toasted and congratulated, sipping his butterbeer and nodding at the assembled group. The knowledge that this was a party for he and Ron finally gaining their status as full Aurors after so long seemed distant - not quite real. He wondered when it would sink in, looking around and wondering why he wasn't the happiest bloke in the pub right now - hadn't this been what he'd wanted for years?

He was ever-pleasant and polite though - making small talk and accepting the heartfelt best wishes with an endearing smile and an appropriate comment. After his fifth and sixth years, when his appalling behaviour had not only irritated those closest to him, but permanently alienated himself from some of his peers, Harry had made a concerted effort to be more sociable. He spared the briefest of glances at Ginny, talking animatedly with the twins a few feet away. Yes, thought Harry, some things just got messed up back then, didn't they? But why they still weren't looking to be fixed, the Boy Who Lived simply did not know.

Despite the looming fog of melancholy, Harry had to admit that he had a good time at The Leaky Cauldron for those few hours - he had entered into the merry and fast-moving talk, there was always something new to laugh at or watch, or a recognisable face passing through the slowly emptying tavern. He had particularly enjoyed hearing all about the new-range of products the twins had concocted for their new line. According to the incorrigible pair, the real niche in the market was for charmed stationary - they had a range of products in mind which would attack all except their designated owner. This had created an immensely comical image in Harry's mind of Filch being attacked by dozens of fluffy pink pencil cases, and the ensuing hilarity had brought tears of laughter to his grass-green eyes. He had, however, been intrigued, and had been assured that he could see the prototypes they had stashed well away from their disapproving mother back at The Burrow.

The end of the War had brought about many changes for Harry - indeed, he corrected himself - for everyone, but the thing which possibly pleased Harry the most was that The Burrow was once again the hive of bustling family hoodlum it had always been meant to be. The Weasley family had retaken full-time residence after his defeat of Voldemort (Mouldy Voldie, as Ginny had once memorably called him) and so it had been only natural that the family and its surrogate members should continue the celebrations back at Ottery St Catchpole's craziest-looking house.

As the group made their way outside, Harry found himself in the middle of the happy huddle, walking beside Ron and Hermione, who were deep in one of their bickering matches about... Harry listened for about five seconds before giving up. He'd learned long ago that trying to keep up would only give him a headache. He turned to face forward again as the group found a large fireplace at the back of the pub from which to Floo - the drinks consumed had damaged reflexes and concentration enough that Mad-Eye had decided Flooing to be the order of the day - and found himself staring straight at the back of a red mane. Great, thought Harry, suddenly rooted to the spot, I get to see the Dynamic Duo in action again.

Ginny and Colin were arm in arm, his camera tossed over his shoulder and their heads tilted towards each other. They were both muttering, and Harry was almost sure from the way they stood and spoke - their voices hushed, their gestures small - that it was a private conversation. Harry sighed, feeling the desire for self-flagellation seep further into his bones. Of course, his internal monologue piped up, it could just be the weather. This Floo is by the door, you know.

Harry barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes at himself, before realising just how crazy that would look; not that anyone would notice, of course. He was about to skim his eyes over the clock behind the bar for the third time in a minute when-

"Potter? Potter!" A pause in which Harry dimly registered his name, before-

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!"

Leaping approximately three miles out of his skin and back in, all within half a second, Harry whipped his head towards the source of the eruption; Moody was pointing at the fire, his magical eye rolling crazily, and Harry scuttled forward and into the fireplace. He took a handful from the proffered bowl, cast a suitably aggrieved look at his boss, and with a shout of "The Burrow!" was whisked away, his last vision being of Ginny, her bright brown eyes fixed on him.