I Saw My Lady Weep

Chapter 28: Life Carries On And On And On And On

Earlier

Ginny leaned as far back as she could. The trouble it took to wash hair as long as hers was one of the few problems she ever had with it. Her hair caused her to take longer in the shower than most of the girls she shared a dorm with, for example, and sometimes making sure it was well rinsed caused her to assume strange positions. Like now, for example; she was standing on the balls of her feet, leaning as far back as she could without falling. All this so she could put all of her hair into the stream of water at once.

She could tell that Harry had said something, but the water had kept her from hearing. Squeezing the water out of her hair, she pulled back the shower curtain. "I'm sorry, love... what was that?"

Harry looked at her, surprised. His toothbrush was deep in his mouth as he used it to clean his back teeth. He grinned awkwardly, trying not to spit foam all over himself. He spit quickly and said, "I said, 'I was hoping to meet you for lunch after I get done at the Ministry.' What do you think?" He resumed brushing.

She smiled at him. "Great idea! Lunch is a lovely idea, and it would give me a chance to get out of the house today. Where?"

He shrugged, still brushing his teeth. Ginny pursed her lips and said, "Well... um... since we're going to be living as part of the Muggle neighborhood, maybe we could find a place here in Islington? I mean, we can go to Diagon Alley any day. I think it would be good for us to know about our neighborhood. What do you think?"

He shrugged again, still brushing. She sighed, loudly and with not a small amount of exaggeration. "I swear, sometimes you're as bad as Ron!" She closed the shower curtain and got back under the warm water. I swear, sometimes he's got all the sensitivity and imagination of a brick...

The shower curtain opened up and Harry looked at her. "I think it's a fine idea, taking a look around the neighborhood and seeing what's there. I just don't know what's there. So I'll tell you what... you take a walk later and find us a nice place to eat lunch. I'll meet you at the house and you can lead me to it, all right?" His smile was just enough to placate her.

"That sounds like a fine idea, Harry." She stepped out of the water, pulling her hair through her hands to get some of the water out of it. Ginny opened her eyes just in time to catch him staring at her breasts, which, because of her arm movements, were currently pointing right at him. She dropped her arms to her sides and stood there for a moment. "See anything you like, Mister Potter?" Ginny said with a wry smile.

Harry gulped and closed the shower curtain, causing Ginny to giggle uncontrollably. They'd grown more comfortable being undressed around each other, but there was still a tangible sexual tension between them. While they'd experimented here and there (the warm memories of some of their experiments caused Ginny to blush to her toes) she was holding to the promise she made to her mother. She was still, at least technically, a virgin and planned on staying that way until her wedding night.

Ginny heard the bathroom door close behind Harry as he walked out and she smiled. It still amazed her that she had such an effect on him. She supposed she shouldn't be too surprised, given his effect on her, but there it was.

She turned off the water and reached for her towels. Harry had once remarked on the fact that she used three towels to his one for every shower. "I just don't get it," he had said. "You get a towel, you use it to dry off, and you're done." Harry had said that as if he was explaining a basic law of the universe. Shaking her head at the memory, Ginny carefully wrapped her hair in one of the towels, and wrapped the second around her body. She then used the third towel to dry herself. Why Harry had such a time with the basic concept Ginny would never understand.

Ginny left the bathroom and entered the bedroom. Their bedroom! She thought to herself. Of course, it didn't actually feel much like a bedroom right now. The mattress they slept on and their old Hogwarts trunks, both bursting with every piece of clothing they owned, were the only sticks of furniture in the room. That would be remedied today, though, which was a good thing.

She picked over her meager wardrobe, looking for something that didn't make her look too much like a teenager. Unfortunately, while living at her mother's house, she was pretty much forced into the role whether she wanted to or not. As a result, her supply of "grown-up clothes" was the smallest part of an already limited set of choices when it came to dressing herself.

She pulled a complete set of underwear, some light slacks, and a T-shirt out of her trunk. Ginny picked up her wand from Harry's trunk and waved it over her clothing, removing the wrinkles they had accumulated. Wrinkles were a downside of keeping everything in a school trunk.

Ginny had mentioned her small selection of clothing to Harry the night Saturday night, the night she moved in "for real", as Harry put it. He, being the wonderful, foolish, and sometimes insensitively caring Harry that she loved, immediately offered to go out with her and buy her every piece of clothing she could ever want. I'm never going to get used to money not being a concern in my life anymore, she thought to herself. But I don't want Harry thinking I'm just in it for his money. And no matter how many times Harry told her that it would be their money as soon as they were married, she couldn't get the idea out of her head that it was his money they were talking about.

Still, she thought as she pulled on her shirt, there is no hiding the fact that Harry is rich and I am marrying him, and thus will have access to his wealth. He's said he wants me to get used to it, but I can't just go out and spend willy-nilly...

Harry stuck his head in the door just as she was pulling on her slacks. "I'm going to head out now; Gin... is there anything last minute that you need me for?"

She buttoned her pants and held her arms out wide. At his confused look, she gave him the universal "come here, right now" sign by wiggling her fingers. Harry smiled and embraced her. "Love you, Harry," she whispered in his ear. "Have a good time at the Ministry." Ginny kissed his cheek and let him go. She was suddenly feeling very melancholy.

As if picking up her mood, he grinned at her. He brought her chin up with his hand. "I'm only going to be gone a couple of hours. Honestly, Ginevra... What could possibly happen?" Harry kissed her once, gently.

Ginny glared at him. "You know I hate that name."

"I know." His grin widened.

"Then why do you insist on using it?" she asked.

"Because I don't hate it." And with that, he left. She heard him almost bounce down the stairs. Moments later, he was out the door and gone.

XxxxxxX

Earlier

With a loud CRACK, Harry appeared out of nowhere in a deserted alleyway. He quickly glanced around to make sure no one had seen him. Confident that he'd appeared unnoticed, he crossed the street to a bright red public phone box. He lifted the phone's receiver, dialed 62442, and replaced the receiver on its hook. When the indifferent-sounding female voice asked his name and his business, he responded, "Harry Potter. I'm here for an appointment with the Minister of Magic about a job, to... um... get my house's fireplace hooked into the Floo network, to pick up my Apparation License, and possibly... to um... speak to a prisoner awaiting trial." While the voice went on to caution him about having his wand checked at security, a white identification badge appeared in the phone's change slot. He glanced at the badge and laughed.

'Harry Potter

'Hectic Morning

As the lift lowered him toward the atrium, he had to admire the sense of humor of whomever it was that issued the badges.

After his wand was inspected (and Harry's hand shaken enthusiastically) by the Security Wizard, Harry turned toward the lift. Let's see... the Department of Magical Transportation is on... level six, he thought to himself. While he was waiting for the lift's cage to return to this level, his thoughts turned to Ginny. She's making that ratty old house feel like home for me...

"Mister Potter! Mister Potter, I'm Elliot Seabring, with the Prophet... can I interrupt you for a short interview?"

A short, roundish wizard with heavy mutton-chop sideburns drew Harry out of his reverie. He scanned the rest of the atrium and didn't spot any other reporters. "What would the purpose of this interview be, Mister Seabring?"

"Just human interest, I assure you. You've been keeping out of sight lately, but I assure you our readers want to know what's happening in the life of Harry Potter!" Seabring's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm. "So... do you mind?"

Harry sighed, but couldn't think of any reason to refuse. "All right, Mister Seabring... you've got until the lift returns."

"Thank you, Mister Potter. First question: you've effectively been a recluse since your defeat of You-Know-Who..."

"Voldemort. Or Tom Riddle," Harry interrupted.

"Sorry?" Seabring looked confused.

"His name was Tom Riddle. He called himself Voldemort. The man's dead, sir... if you're going to keep hiding behind 'You-Know-Who' and 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named'..." Harry looked exasperated.

"Ah... yes, I gather your point, sir. Sorry... Anyway, since your defeat of V-Vol... of Riddle, you've been almost a recluse. I'm sure the readers of the Prophet would be interested in knowing just what the Savior of the Wizarding World's been doing with his life since then. I assume that you've become engaged to marry... we all saw the article in Witch Weekly..."

Harry smiled. "Actually, Witch Weekly got it wrong. You see, on that day, my best mate Ron... that's Ronald Weasley... was shopping for a ring, and in his case the lucky witch is Hermione Granger. I was there strictly for moral support."

Seabring's eyebrows shot up. "Well, that's interesting. Two of the three of you, falling in love like that... just wonderful... good for them!" The reporter jotted a few things down. Harry noted he was using a self-inking quill, but was writing in his own hand. No Quick-Quotes Quill for this man, apparently. "So I suppose that that puts you back on the Eligible Bachelors list..."

"Now, I wouldn't say that..." Harry blurted. He immediately blushed. He hadn't meant to respond, but the reporter was too quick on the uptake for Harry to cover it up.

"So... there is some young lady out there to whom you have dedicated yourself?" The reporter smiled.

"Yes, you could say that..." Harry said. "As to what we've been doing, let's just say that I am busily building a normal life for myself with the young woman who will one day become my wife. If you'll excuse me for saying so, I want my private life to remain just that... private. I appreciate that I'm a celebrity and that there's a great interest in how I live my life, but I'll not have my family... ah... saved by the lift. Have a good day, sir."

"And you, sir. Thank you for talking to me." Seabring held a hand out as the lift's door opened. Harry smiled and shook the man's hand, then headed for Level Six and the Department of Magical Transportation.

XxxxxxX

Earlier

Ginny sipped her tea and made a face. Harry liked the Ceylon tea blend, but Ginny just thought it was bitter. And unfortunately, since Harry was up and around first, it was Harry's choice for tea this morning. For a moment, she considered telling Kreacher to make her some Earl Grey or some Darjeeling, but her frugal upbringing couldn't let her do it.

But she did find that she liked reading the Daily Prophet on the back patio, drinking tea and relaxing in the mornings. The quality of story found in the Prophet had actually improved since the end of the war... no doubt the fact that the Shacklebolt government had cut all administrative ties and influences had something to do with that.

The back door to the house opened, and Kreacher's voice called out, "Mistress Ginny... there is a man at the front door. He says he is here with the new furniture." The house-elf didn't have permission to leave the house, and besides the surrounding Muggles couldn't see him.

Ginny stood up. "Well, then... let's go talk to him, shall we?" She stepped past Kreacher, walking to the ground floor and the front door. The man standing just outside the door was the spitting image of a Muggle workman, even down to the slouch hat he was worrying between his hands. "Good morning. May I help you?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, ma'am..." The man pronounced it as "mum", which made Ginny smile. "Are you the Missus Potter? I've got a crate of furniture for the Potter residence, and this is the given address."

"Yes... um... that's correct." Ginny didn't bother correcting the man's assumption of her marital status. "This is the Potter residence. Bring it right in, please."

The man turned from the door and gestured to someone outside. Craning her neck past the man, she saw a lorry on the curb. "You're using a Muggle truck?"

"Yes, ma'am... easier to camouflage that way," he responded. His two partners pulled a tall crate from the back of their truck and lugged it inside. "Where should we put this for the unloading, ma'am?"

"Oh, this way... the dining room should be big enough." Ginny led the workmen into the long dining room just off the entry hall. "Go ahead and put it anywhere..." she waved her arms at the empty room "... because we obviously have plenty of space right now."

At Ginny's prompting, the three workers placed the crate in the room's far corner. Meticulously, they opened the various locks that ran along one side, popping the lid of the crate open. "There you go, ma'am... everything you ordered is there. Now then, it says on your delivery order that setting up the furniture will be your look out... I mean to say that we are not expected to set up your arrangements, Missus."

Ginny nodded. "That's fine. I can get our house-elf to assist me. Thank you gentlemen." She walked them to the door and saw them out.

Ginny looked into the crate. It was much larger on the inside than the out, and seemed to contain every piece of furniture Harry and she had picked out during their visit to Hogsmeade. "Kreacher, it looks like you and I have our work cut out for us." Ginny rubbed her hands together. "Well, let's get started. These things won't arrange themselves."

"Yes, Mistress..."

XxxxxxX

Earlier

"Yes, but that's why I'm Minister of Magic. I stepped in and provided leadership when there was none, so when the question arose, I was already there." Kingsley Shacklebolt tapped the tips of his fingers together. "Of course, the truth is, I wasn't the first choice."

"Is that true? Who, then, besides you? I suppose I could see Arthur Weasley in the position..." Harry began.

"Actually the first choice was you, Harry."

Harry was dumbstruck. He supposed that the surprise he felt just then would have only been exceeded if, last May, Voldemort had appeared at the gates of Hogwarts, picked up Gryffindor's sword, and gutted himself with it rather than attack the school.

"You're joking. That's what it is, right? You're having me on... taking the piss out of me..." Harry honestly couldn't believe what he was being told.

"Harry... you killed Voldemort. You ended the war. I don't know if you've realized this yet..." Shacklebolt leaned forward in his chair. "... but you're considered something of a hero. You're the most popular man in Britain right now. And to tell you the truth, I may be actually understating how the public feels about you."

"But I'm not a hero. I'm not a hero at all," Harry muttered.

Shacklebolt raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"I'm not a hero. I made mistakes and people died because of them. What everyone calls 'heroics' were moments of pain and terror and loss. Nothing more." Harry looked askance at Shacklebolt. "Do you know what I wanted right after Voldemort died? To sleep. That's all. I didn't want to catch up a beautiful woman and crush her to my manly chest... I didn't want to buckle any swashes. I wanted to go to bed because I'd had enough. If that was being a hero, then being a hero is too difficult. Why would anyone ever want to be a hero when they could have a nice peaceful life?"

"Harry, you just described every great hero from every great story, ever. Being a hero is never easy. It's hard, difficult, bloody, and it hurts. After everyone's over, the hero in those stories is so beaten up that all he wants to do is lie down and rest."

Harry snorted. That was, of course, exactly what happened. "Do heroes... real heroes, I mean... ever really get the girl? Do they ever ride off into the sunset together and live happily ever after?"

Shacklebolt smiled. "I'll tell you what, Harry... you come and tell me the answer ten or fifteen years from now when you're settled down with a family of your own. I saw the magazine article..."

"Oh that thing... they got it wrong, by the way." Harry rolled his eyes. "We were buying an engagement ring so Ron could ask Hermione."

"Ah, excellent! I shall have to extend the congratulations of the Ministry to Mister Weasley and Miss Granger."

Harry nodded. "I'm sure they'd appreciate it." He took a deep breath, held it for a moment, and then let it all out at once. "I really hate fame. I just want to be a normal guy."

"Yes, well, whether you want it or not, fame is upon you. You must keep in mind that fame can be both good and bad. You need to learn to tell the difference. Certainly, everyone out there who is not your friend will want a piece of the legendary Harry Potter." Shacklebolt shifted in his seat, gesturing toward the window of his office. The view it afforded of London's skyline was spectacular, especially given that as far as Harry knew, the office was located underground. "Ordinary people will walk up to you out of nowhere and start speaking to you as if you were fast friends. Politicians will be dueling each other over who gets to associate themselves with you first. Businesses will want your endorsement..." At Harry's scowl, Kingsley Shacklebolt stopped talking. "Something the matter?"

"Well... probably nothing. I visited a grocer's shop the other day and while there, I autographed a picture for the owner... it was nothing at the time, at least I thought it was nothing." Harry rubbed his chin absently. "But now I'm wondering if he doesn't have my signed picture framed and sitting behind his counter as some sort of statement that I'm endorsing his shop."

"That's only a problem if you dislike the man's service, Harry," Shacklebolt laughed. "But it is a good example of a lesson learned." The Minister of Magic was thoughtfully silent for a moment. "Of course, it's not all bad, you know. I'm sure a great many people will simply want to stop you and thank you. You know, show a little appreciation for what you've..."

"Yeah, people have been doing that to me since I was a baby," Harry interrupted. "It's never been something I've looked for."

Shacklebolt sighed. "I understand. My advice is, when that happens, to just say thank you, politely, and let them have the thrill of brushing up against someone they hold in great regard."

Harry thought of his encounter with the Stebbins family, and realized that was exactly how he handled it. "I suppose you're right."

"Of course I'm right... I'm the Minister of Magic!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "So... about this job offer..." he prompted.

"Ah, yes... well... here is my plan. I'd like you to be inducted into the Aurors as soon as possible." Shacklebolt began searching his desk. It was covered in parchment, and finding what he wanted was proving troublesome. "There are some important tasks ahead before the Ministry could even be called 'back on its feet', and... Ah, here we are." He held a stack of three pages out to Harry.

It was a list of names. Harry scanned down the list; he'd heard of one or two of these people, but most of them were ciphers. When he reached the name 'Umbridge, Dolores Jane', he brought his eyes back up to Kingsley's. "Should I guess what these people have in common?"

"If you'd like, but I'm going to tell you anyway. They all supported, or at least appeared to support, Voldemort and his program of oppression against the Muggle-born through their actions here at the Ministry. That we can tell, none of them bear the Dark Mark, but..." Shacklebolt spread his hands wide.

"You still want them gone." Harry looked back down at the list. "Minister... Not that I'm turning down a chance to be an Auror, mind you, but what do you need me for? Have the Aurors round them up and arrest them."

"Harry... not to put too fine a point on it, but therein lies the problem." Shacklebolt sat back in his chair. "The Aurors are in a shambles. Many are just gone... I presume they were killed by Voldemort's supporters, or else fled the country. Others are suffering permanent injury after being tortured for not being supportive enough of the Dark Lord's regime. In addition... we can't just arrest them all... we need to determine who on that list was an authentic supporter of Voldemort and who was simply keeping their head down and trying not to attract untoward attention, if you take my meaning. Unfortunately, whether or not they were active supporters, they appear tainted by association."

Harry nodded. "So what do you want me to do?"

"Simple... head up the task force that's going to clean up the Ministry. I intend to transform this place... make it more open to public scrutiny. It will be your job to separate the good from the bad. The malevolent from the merely apathetic, if you will. The Americans have a saying about holding government in the sunshine. Well... too many things have been done in the shadows for too long." Shacklebolt was grim. "And given our conversation regarding the consequences of fame... I'm not ashamed to admit that part of the reason I want you in on this is that you're a name people trust. If they trust you, and see you as part of the solution to our corrupt government, then they'll trust that the government is actually being cleaned up."

Harry stared at the man, incredulous. "You right bloody bastard! All this talk of watching out for people wanting to use me..." He shook his head. "Well... I suppose it's for a good cause. Not to mention a good example of a lesson learned. All right, then... I'm in. When do you want me to start?"

"As soon as possible," Kingsley Shacklebolt laughed. "As soon as possible."

XxxxxxX

Earlier

Ginny took a quick tour of the house, making sure that there was a place for everything, and that everything was in that place, as the saying went. There were still some empty rooms, mostly up on the fourth floor, but all the important rooms... the dining room, the sitting room, a room that would one day be an office/library and their bedroom... were all furnished and decorated. This morning we just had a house. Now it feels like a home. Our home... mine and Harry's, she thought to herself.

"This place is about as perfect as it could be," Ginny said to herself.

Kreacher, who had followed her on the tour of the house, turned to her. "Mistress?"

"Nothing, Kreacher. Thank you for your help this morning." The truth was that without the little elf's help, the furniture would still be in the box, and she'd have been all day getting things arranged.

Kreacher bowed. "Kreacher lives to serve the Most Noble and Valiant House of Potter."

That remark made Ginny laugh. "Well... it's appreciated. Now, though... I think it's time for that walk." She ran a hairbrush through her hair, tucked her wand into her pocket along with the white card Harry had pushed on her that morning. She wasn't sure how it worked, but Harry assured her it was effectively Muggle money. He wanted her to have it 'just in case', whatever that meant, while she was wandering around Islington.

Islington itself was refreshing, though a bit surprising and in some ways scary. She'd grown up in Devon, after all, and in a rather rural part of an already rural county. No one could ever accuse Ottery-Saint-Catchpole of being metropolitan. As such, London, especially a busy area like Islington, came as a shock to the system. But while it was strange and a bit confusing, it was also wonderful. It took Ginny no more than twenty minutes to find any number of shops and note them for a return visit, this time with Harry.

It also took her no more than twenty minutes to realize she was hopelessly lost. But Harry had given her instructions just in case that had happened. It took only mere minutes to find one of those 'please-men' Harry had mentioned, standing under an awning to what looked to be a used book shop, on the other side of the street.

With a smile, Ginny stepped between two of the parked cars. She already knew what to ask the please-man... she was confident that she'd be able to fit in with the Muggles, just like Harry wanted...

XxxxxxX

Now

As she had for a while, she came awake slowly. The lights had been dimmed and she got the impression that it was the middle of the night. She could hear someone shuffling around, out of sight. If it hadn't been for the painkillers sizzling through her blood, she would have been terrified, she knew. Her entire body felt... distant... for some reason, and it was all bearable.

It occurred to her that she had something to say to people, but she had forgotten the message already. And she remembered talking to someone, but who exactly... she couldn't remember that either. Fred maybe... it was a dream after all.

Her eyes went wide as a dark form loomed over her. It had messy hair, and glasses.

"Ginny...? Ginny! I don't know if you can... can hear me... I don't know if you're even still in there... its Harry... I've been looking for you all day, and... I'm sorry it took me so long to find you... It didn't occur to me to contact the Muggle police... I am so sorry... oh, Ginny, look what's been done to you... oh, baby... I love you, Ginny... please... I'm here... I'm here for you, baby..."

He took her hand, and she immediately gave it a squeeze. She knew, almost instinctively, that he needed the reassurance.

"Ginny? Did you just... Ginny?" She gave his hand another squeeze. "Oh, Thank God! Ginny... I love you... I'm going to get you out of here and to some real Healers, Ginny... You're going to be... You're doing just..." He kept interrupting himself. She hated when he did that.

She gave his hand one more squeeze and drifted back to sleep.