Chapter Eight: Present

Kingsley threw down his quill and scrunched up yet another piece of parchment, hurling it into a growing pile on the floor of his office.

Marjory poked her head around the door, eyebrows raised. “Making some progress then?” she asked cheekily.

Kingsley smiled wearily and threw a paper ball at her retreating figure. “Shut up and fetch Arthur for me, would you?”

He pulled over another sheet of parchment and began sketching, muttering to himself as he worked.

“So if this tier looks roughly like this… and the water could spout from here… and, mmm, yes, it could form a kind of bubble around the whole thing.” He scratched his nose absentmindedly with the end of his quill. “Then maybe we could fit twelve around the base? Or maybe less.” He continued scribbling away, not even noticing the arrival of his red-haired friend.

“How’s it coming, Kingsley?” Arthur asked as he seated himself across from his boss.

There was a pause as the Minister for Magic surveyed his handiwork.

“Look at this one, Arthur. Do you think I’m getting close?”

Arthur chuckled. “I’ve seen merit in all of the designs you’ve shown me! I’m just glad that I don’t have to be the one to choose between them!”

Kingsley looked up at his friend seriously. “This will be a big step forward for the Ministry, Arthur. We need to make sure that we get this right. It will symbolise the direction we want the wizarding world to go in, the direction that Dumbledore and Harry have led us in.”

“I know,” Arthur said quietly. “I understand how significant this is. Its symbolic power has been horribly misused until now.”

“I hope we can go some way to undoing all of that,” Kinglsey mused, half to himself.

“Well, I trust you, Kingsley,” Arthur replied. “And so does everyone else that I care two hoots about.”

****

In the bustle that the home-comers created in Harry’s flat, he had almost forgotten about the beautiful tawny owl still perched on top of the bookshelf. Ginny saw him observing the bird and came over to sit beside him on the lounge.

“What are you going to name her, Harry?

“Name her?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Well, every owl should have a name!” She laughed. “My note was a bit ambiguous wasn’t it?” Ginny grew serious as her eyes met Harry’s. She spoke softly. “Both of us are yours.”

Harry turned his whole body to face her, watching her intently as she pulled an owl treat out of her pocket and motioned to the beautiful creature who flew down and perched next to her on the lounge to take it. Harry watched her feeding the owl, distracted by his happy contemplation of the possessive.

“Mine?”

Ginny returned his gaze steadily for a moment before responding.

“Yours,” she said smiling.

Harry reached for her, delighting in the warm, tangible presence of her as she leaned into his embrace. He’d spent so long loving people who would never be able to embrace him that the physicality of Ginny’s affection communicated love to him in ways that he’d rarely been able to experience from anyone other than her.

Ron and Hermione wandered in from the kitchen where Mr and Mrs Granger were drinking tea and Harry started moving to put some distance between himself and Ginny but she wouldn’t let him.

“You don’t have to move away, Harry.” She looked pointedly at Ron. “We have my brother’s approval now, don’t we?”

Ron grinned sheepishly. “I’m fine with you two being together. Just don’t break up, ok!”

Ginny turned to look at Harry, one eyebrow raised. “Much chance of us breaking up this afternoon?”

Harry pretended to calculate the odds and winked at Ron. “Hmm, we’ll see how she goes. I’ll probably give her ‘til the end of the day at least.”

Ginny laughed, turning on the couch to put her feet up and lay back across Harry’s lap leaning her head on the armrest opposite the speckled owl.

“Ok, we have to name Harry’s owl.”

“Any ideas?” Harry asked Ron and Hermione as they settled themselves on the couch opposite.

“How about Rose?” Ron offered without hesitation.

Hermione laughed, “He’s been obsessed with the name Rose since he watched Titanic on the plane.” She stopped speaking, realising her explanation was lost on her audience. “Oh, never mind.” She turned to Ron. “It’s a nice name for a human but it wouldn’t suit an owl, Ron.”

Harry was only half paying attention to his friends, so consumed was he by the close proximity of the girl that he’d loved from a distance for too long. Harry found himself thoroughly enjoying the return of the familiarity between himself and Ginny. It felt just as exciting to have her so near to him now as it had on their very first evening together after they’d made their exit from the Gryffindor Common Room. He doubted that he’d ever grow blasé about having her in his arms.

Harry studied her face as she chattered animatedly with his friends. Her freckles provided a beautiful smattering of colour, warming the paleness of her skin, her deep brown eyes were so expressive and alive and she was always quick to smile or laugh.

Hermione was giggling as Harry vaguely tuned back into the conversation.

“Excellent suggestions all round, everyone! So Harry, what do you think of your short list?”

Harry tore his eyes away from Ginny to look across at Hermione. “What? Sorry, I think I may have been distracted for a minute there.”

Ron laughed loudly. “You think?”

Hermione began listing possibilities, trying to keep a straight face. “Well, we liked Murgatroid, Erma, Begonia, Morag and Phelina. Can you pick one from that list?”

Harry, slightly panic-stricken, looked to Ginny for help. His expression caused her giggling to become all the more uncontrollable and Ron and Hermione couldn’t help themselves either.

Hermione had often berated Harry and Ron for their failure to focus on more than one thing at a time. In this instance, Harry only had the capacity to appreciate Ginny, whose giggling weight was playing havoc with all of his senses at once.

Watching him zone out again caused Ron and Hermione’s laughter to increase all the more but Harry was oblivious, absorbed in his observations of the pretty pink blush rising from Ginny’s neck-line and travelling over her throat to stain her cheeks with colour.

She turned to Ron and Hermione to speak in Harry’s defense. “He wasn’t joking before, we really had only been officially back together for about thirty seconds when you arrived. I’m not sure that Harry has quite accepted the reality that things have been put on hold for a while.”

Hearing himself being spoken about in the third-person prompted Harry to re-enter the conversation as best he could. “What’s been put on hold?”

Ginny nestled her head into the crook of his neck so that she could whisper in his ear. “Your bookend. It’s been temporarily delayed.” She paused to kiss his earlobe, causing what felt like a bolt of lightning to shoot through his body. “You’ve got things to say that I really want to hear,” she went on, “So we will be continuing this later, right?”

Harry could only nod vigorously in reply.

She got to her feet and Harry found himself feeling a little bereft. Seeing her chance, Harry’s owl flew across the couch to perch herself once more on Harry’s shoulder, hooting softly.

He reached up to stroke her soft feathers with the backs of his fingers and she bobbed her head appreciatively.

“I know!” Ginny said excitedly. “Remember Sirius’ family tree?”

There were nods all round.

“When we were staying at Grimmauld Place, Sirius talked me through it all one day before you arrived, Harry. Did he tell you about his great, great, great Aunt Isla?”

Harry looked up at her with interest.

“She was disowned for marrying a Muggle called Bob Hitchens.”

“Isla.” Harry tried the name out as he continued stroking the owl’s feathers, liking the sound of it and the fact that it was a link to Sirius. His godfather would have approved of him honouring the memory of yet another Black blasted from the family tree.

****

Molly Weasley had been having a difficult morning. Arthur’s work was consuming most of his waking hours and Ginny had left very early, presumably to be with Harry for as much of his birthday as possible. She was worried about Ron and Hermione in Sydney, Bill and Fleur were refusing to let her host an anniversary celebration for them, George hadn’t given her any of his washing to do and try as she might, she just couldn’t seem to get her wand to work for her as she attempted to get organised for Harry’s birthday dinner later that night. She was therefore quite surprised to hear Percy’s voice calling her from the lounge room.

“Mum? Are you home?”

“Percy?” she cried as she bustled out of the kitchen to embrace him. “What on earth are you doing here?”

“Mum!” Percy squeaked. “You’re crushing me!”

“Oh my! I’m so sorry, dear. It’s just been quite a lonely morning, I’m so happy to have some company!”

“Funny you should say that,” Percy smirked, wandering into the kitchen with his mother following behind. “You’re just about to be inundated with visitors! Kingsley sent me over to let you know that Ron has arrived safely back in England with Hermione and her parents. They’re at Harry’s with Ginny right now, but any second Dad is heading over there to fetch them and bring them here.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” Molly clasped her hand to her chest in relief.

“Why don’t you take a seat, Mum,” Percy said, summoning her only half-read copy of Witch Weekly and conjuring a squashy armchair so precisely behind her knees that Molly had no choice but to fall into it. “I’m going to sort out some breakfast for everyone.”

Molly began to protest but Percy silenced her with a raised palm. “Mum, you’re often a bit sexist about who gets to work in the kitchen. You get to have your turn every day but now I’m going to show off what I taught myself while I was off being a git.”

His expression softened and he turned and walked over to Molly, kneeling down next to her armchair. He fixed his eyes on his mother’s tatty slippers. “Mum, I never said…” He went silent for a moment.

“Percy, it’s alright.”

“No,” he continued, “It’s not alright. I’m so sorry, Mum. I’m so sorry for everything that I put you and Dad through.”

Tears rolled down Molly’s face as she leaned over the side of the armchair to embrace her son. “It’s all forgiven, dear. You have nothing to apologise for. I’m just so happy that you were reconciled with… with F-Fred… before we lost him.”

“So am I, Mum. Though I replay those few minutes in my head everyday, wishing that I’d thought faster. I wish that I hadn’t been so cocky, making jokes in such a dangerous situation.”

“Oh, Perce,” his mother smiled sadly. “Whether you had been there or not, Fred would still have been making jokes despite the danger.”

“I know. That’s what I always have to conclude. It makes me cringe to think about how hard I tried over the years, but thankfully I could never have succeeded in making Fred any less himself.” He chuckled quietly and reach his hand into his pocket, bringing out a tarnished silver badge. He held it out for his mother to look at.

She laughed. “You still have that? Weren’t you ever able to change it back?”

“I did, but the enchantment was too strong. It kept reverting to their version at the most inappropriate times.” He smiled sadly. “If only I’d managed to see how much of an idiot I was being, Mum. They were right about me all along.”

“Have you said this to George?” she asked gently.

“Not yet,” Percy admitted, “but I will very soon.”

****

Lee cued up the third song in a row, fully aware that he just wasn’t at his best for today’s broadcast. He was completely distracted by thoughts of a certain feisty blonde witch who worked every day just a staircase away from his new home. And what was a staircase to a wizard, anyway?

On top of his usual evening shows on the WWN, he was covering for the popular Glenda Chittock on her talk-back program which came on straight after Tilden’s “Toots, Shoots ‘n’ Roots” on a Friday morning. Due to the success of Potterwatch while Voldemort was still at large, Lee, or River, as he had then been known, had won the hearts of many a Harry Potter supporter and audiences clamoured to hear more of him once the war was over.

Lee was in his element in the evenings playing the Weird Sisters and other wrock bands along with a few odd bits of Muggle music for his younger demographic. Glenda’s talk-back show was a real challenge for him and the play-list rarely ventured very far from Celestina Warbeck’s greatest hits which drove him crazy. Today he was meant to be taking an opinion poll over the Floo Network on how old was too old for of-age wizards to leave their parents’ home but, having only moved out in the last week himself, he was finding that it all cut a little bit close to the bone. Unfortunately, the last strains of This Keeper’s A Keeper were fading out and Lee was going to have to do his best. He took a deep breath as the first caller’s head appeared in the fireplace.

“And our first caller has popped in to share her views with us this morning. Can you say your name clearly for those listening at home?”

“My name is Edith.”

“Great to have you with us, Edith. Now, do you have children of your own?”

“Yes, dear, I have three boys.”

“And have they moved out of home yet?”

“Oh no, dear. They wouldn’t be able to fend for themselves. They’d starve! And who’d wash their clothes?”

“How old are your boys, Edith? Have they only recently turned seventeen?”

“Well, my youngest turned seventeen about five years ago and the eldest is about to turn thirty.”

“Hang on a minute, Edith! Are you saying that your three sons still live in your house, even up to the age of thirty, and you still do everything for them?”

“Well, yes, of course, dear!”

“That’s amazing! Thanks for the call, Edith, I look forward to hearing what our other callers think of that!”

The fire glowed again as Edith’s head disappeared and was replaced with the face of a middle-aged man.

“Good morning, sir, what’s your name?”

“My name is Kenneth, Lee, it’s great to be on your show! I’ve been a big fan since Potterwatch!”

Lee smiled. “Thanks for your support, Kenneth! Now what do you think of Edith’s situation with her three of-age sons still at home being waited on hand and foot?”

“Poor old dear,” Kenneth chuckled. “My mum and dad threw me out the minute I turned seventeen and it was the making of me! It absolutely sorted me out right there on the spot. There was no one around to do my cooking and cleaning for me, I had to do it all myself and I think I turned out alright as a result.”

“Well, thanks for your thoughts, Kenneth. That’s certainly a different perspective!”

The coals glowed again and the face of a pretty young girl appeared in the fireplace. Lee’s eyes widened in shock.

“Verity! What are you doing here?”

“Well,” Verity replied loudly for the benefit of the listeners at home. “I thought it might be interesting for the listeners to gain a little bit of an insight into your own experience, Lee. So why don’t you tell us all how old you were when you left home?”

The Wizarding Wireless Network was silent all over Britain while Lee glared furiously at his beautiful new acquaintance, smiling sweetly at him from the grate.

“Come on, Lee! We all want to know.”

“Err, well, I myself am now twenty years old and I just moved out of home this week.”

“And does your mother still do a lot of things for you?”

Verity’s stare was penetrating.

“Umm, well, my lovely mother has been known to do a bit of washing for me. Hi Mum!” He glared at Verity and spoke through gritted teeth. “But now that I’m independent I’ll definitely be taking the responsibility for all of that kind of thing myself.”

She grinned triumphantly.

“Why don’t we go to a song, listeners? Here’s our dear Ms Warbeck singing A Howler To Henry (Revivify My Heart).”

As the music started to play, Lee turned to face the fireplace.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Verity winked. “Just playing my part for the mums of the world,” and with that, she vanished.

Lee sat in stunned bemusement – he wasn’t going to figure this girl out easily.

“Lee, dear?”

He was jolted out of his reverie to find that his mother’s face had replaced Verity’s in the fireplace.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m ok, Mum!” Lee replied, trying to smile warmly.

Mrs Jordan looked suspicious. “Are you sure that you’re alright, dear? Are you about to be on air again?”

“No, Celestina’s still warbling away here. What can I do for you, Mum?”

“I just wanted to say that you’re a very sweet boy, dear. It was lovely to see you yesterday and I was so touched that you decided not to bring your laundry. Then hearing you sound so grown-up in your determination to be independent – I just wanted to tell you that I’m very proud of you!”

Lee found himself grinning broadly as realisation dawned. Verity may have believed that she was playing her part for his Mum but it was paying dividends for him also! He could see the tears of happiness welling up in his mother’s eyes.

“And Lee, that was very kind of you to mark the page in Witch Weekly of the Most Marvellous Magical Mum Competition. Are you really going to nominate me?”

“Of course I am, Mum! Who could be more deserving?”

The tables had turned and Lee couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. He was going to kiss that girl very thoroughly if she ever gave him half a chance.

****

The long table in the garden was littered with the debris of the magnificent brunch that Percy had whipped up to feed the hoard that had arrived at The Burrow that morning. Mr Weasley and Mr Granger were chatting animatedly about aeroplanes, Hermione and Ginny were whispering and giggling with one another at one end of the table, Mrs Weasley and Mrs Granger were laughing about the clothes that the young people were wearing today, George and Percy were talking quietly and Harry and Ron had been sitting back in well-fed, companionable silence.

Ron yawned and stretched languorously.

“Apparently it’s called ‘jet-lag’,” he explained knowledgeably. “I might still feel like I’m running on Australian time for a few days.”

“How was it in Sydney?” Harry asked.

Ron grinned sheepishly. “To tell you the truth, I wasn’t much of a tourist, I was only interested in being with Hermione.”

“So you didn’t see anything?”

“Oh yeah, of course. We went all around the harbour and that. I managed to take my broom out one night under that enormous bridge they have – that was pretty amazing, but Hermione refused to come. You know how she is with brooms.”

Harry chuckled. “Is there a wizarding part of Sydney, like Diagon Alley?”

Ron looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “Of course! Wizards are everywhere!”

Harry shrugged helplessly.

“’Salright, mate,” Ron said apologetically. “Sometimes I forget that you were raised by Muggles. And barmy ones at that.”

“So what was it like?”

“It was amazing actually!” Ron suddenly looked a bit supercilious. “I mean, for a colony of course.”

Harry laughed at his mate’s snobbery. “What’s their Quidditch like?”

“They’ve got two good teams that supply most of the players for their international efforts. I nearly got to go and see a match between the Wollongong Warriors and the Thundelarra Thunderers but our flight was booked too early. I have to admit, when I worked that out I cursed us for destroying all those time-turners at the Ministry!”

As Ron continued to talk about Australian Quidditch and the Sydney wizarding community situated in The Rocks, Harry’s eyes kept drifting over to where Ginny and Hermione sat deep in conversation, their heads close together. At one point Mrs Granger called her daughter over leaving Ginny alone for a moment. She immediately sought him out and laughed at the sight of her brother chattering away obliviously while Harry paid him no heed.

She nodded her head towards the fields beyond the garden and raised her eyebrows questioningly. Harry leapt out of his seat without a moment’s hesitation, startling Ron mid-sentence.

“I’ll be back in a bit, mate.” He looked up to see his bushy-haired friend approaching and knew that all would be well. “Anyway, here comes Hermione.”

The conversations continued on cheerily under the canvases that Hermione had suspended over the tables to provide some shade and Harry and Ginny were able to back away unnoticed.

Harry held out his hand to her and savoured the sensation of her warm fingers intertwining with his own as they walked out of the garden. As soon as they were out of sight Ginny threw her arms around Harry and kissed him passionately.

“Trying to make up for some of that lost time,” she offered in breathless explanation as she eventually pulled back and smiled at Harry’s dreamy expression.

“Mmm, I’m all for that,” Harry replied, leaning forward to capture her lips again with his own.

After a number of very pleasant minutes passed, Ginny took his hand and pulled him forward in the direction they had previously been heading.

Harry laughed as he recovered from tripping over his third tree root of the venture, aware that he was paying far more attention to Ginny than to where he was going. He tugged on her hand, pulling her down to sit next to him under the enormous fig tree and wrapped his arms around her.

“Gin, I hope you don’t mind but instead of getting a boyfriend who’s all consumed with noble causes and carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, I think you’ve just ended up with a bit of a sap who wants to do nothing more than moon over you.”

Ginny looked at him appraisingly. “Oh really? I don’t mind a bit of being mooned over.”

Harry raised an eyebrow and Ginny laughed. “Look, if it gets too bad, we can always find you some hobbies. Maybe even some noble ones?”

Harry smiled and looked into her eyes, beginning to feel a bit nervous about saying all of the things he’d been wanting to say for a year.

“Ok, so I guess that it’s time for me to fill in the gaps, isn’t it?”

“The gaps in your story of what happened this year?” Ginny asked.

“Gin, you know that I hated breaking up with you at Dumbledore’s funeral, don’t you? You know that if I felt like it was safe, I never would have let go of you?”

Ginny smiled sadly. “I know, Harry.”

“It’s all variations on a theme, really. Right from the next time I saw you at The Burrow that night everyone came to move me from the Dursleys’, all I wanted to do was hold you again. You took my hand and stood by me for most of that night and I was so grateful.

“Then I made that stupid joke about someone else killing off Voldemort while your mum had us making vol-au-vents and I saw your face just turn white. You looked so worried for me and I hated keeping what I was doing from you. Do you remember that?”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes on the ground. “That whole night was awful. I cried myself to sleep.”

“Oh Gin, I’m so sorry,” he held her more closely to him. “But then it was my birthday.” He pulled back smiling to look at her face. “And this fiery temptress called me into her bedroom and snogged me senseless.”

Ginny laughed. “Until my git of a brother intervened.”

“I don’t see Ron anywhere just now, do you?” Harry asked, looking intently into her eyes.

She pretended to do a thorough scan of their surroundings. “Well, I can’t see him, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not hiding behind a bush somewhere.”

“We can take our chances, don’t you think?” he asked hopefully.

“I think so,” Ginny whispered and closed her eyes as Harry’s soft lips met hers.

After enjoying their freedom to be together for a while, Harry pulled back and drank in Ginny’s features. Her eyes were still closed and she was smiling slightly and biting her bottom lip as if willing him to kiss her again.

“Ginny, wait, there’s still more that I have to say.”

She opened her eyes and gazed up at him, smiling encouragingly.

“Remember the Maurauder’s Map that I told you about?”

Ginny nodded.

“I had it with me while we moved around. So often I’d sit and stare at your dot on that map for hours, I began to think of it as watching you sleep, as if I could really see you. I used to hope that you would know somehow that I was thinking of you.

“Any little bit of news I could get about you sustained me, I was so hungry to know that you were alright. I’ve already told you how proud I was when I heard what you were up to at Hogwarts trying to steal the sword from Snape.

“And then when we finally got to Hogwarts and I saw you climb out of that hole in the wall into the Room of Requirement I wanted to run over and hold you and never let go and then send you back the way you came to get you as far away from me as possible!”

She laughed. “It seems I provided you with plenty of opportunities to experience the full gamut of human emotions, as if you didn’t have enough to deal with.”

He smiled. “And even though I didn’t acknowledge it at the time, I just loved it when you stepped in and organised Luna to take me up to the Ravenclaw common room instead of Cho.”

Ginny’s face flushed and she dropped her head into her hands.

“I thought you were going to hex me into oblivion when I refused to let you fight and then when we came out of the Room of Lost Things to let you back in and you were gone, I was terrified. Fred had been killed and there I was with my stupid quest but I didn’t even know if you were alive or dead.

“And you already know that I had to walk past you under the cloak to go out to meet Voldemort. Oh, Gin, I wanted you to know what I was doing so that you would stop me, but I knew that I just had to keep going. I knew I had to go and die.”

Ginny grasped both his hands in her own, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“I didn’t tell you this before. I didn’t tell you what dominated my thoughts just before Voldemort raised his wand.”

Harry looked down at their clasped hands.

“It was you, Ginny. That blazing look of yours, kissing you.”

Ginny closed her eyes and the tears that had been pooling there spilled freely down her face.

“I knew then, with absolute clarity, just as I was about to die, that I was in love with you. That I am in love with you, Ginny.”

She beamed at him through her tears and for a moment there were no words between them.

When Ginny eventually spoke, her tone was one of gentle exasperation. “It took you six and a half years and a near-death experience to know what I’ve known since I first saw you on Platform Nine and Three Quarters!”

Harry laughed, though his voice was thick with emotion. “Hermione will vouch for the fact that boys catch on a lot more slowly than girls.”

She grinned. “Luckily, I’m less concerned about the past than I am about the present.” Her tone grew more serious. “I love you, Harry.”

Harry’s eyes were dry but he felt as if a flood-gate had opened within him. “ Ginny,” he paused, “I can’t remember anyone ever saying that to me before.”

She looked shocked for a moment. He could see his favourite expression forming in her eyes. “You’ll hear it a lot from me, Harry.”

He grinned. “I don’t think it’s something I’ll get tired of.”

And she pressed her lips to his putting a stop to any further conversation.

Just as it had on the night he went out to meet Voldemort and his death, his body reminded him of just how alive he was. His heart was pounding and every inch of him tingled with the incredible sensation of being in the presence of Ginny. She was willing to forgive him for the past and focus on the present. He remembered the Gringotts savings account George had recently opened for him and looked forward to the day, perhaps only a few years down the track, when they could make some serious plans for their future.