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Published:
2024-06-08
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Keeping Company

Summary:

In which the resurrection stone doesn’t work for Harry

Work Text:

Harry couldn’t deny the pain he had felt when the snitch opened at the close and the resurrection stone—given for courage, for connection—did nothing.

“It was a fake,” Harry told Dumbledore, at King’s Cross.

“I thought it real. Maybe the dead did not wish to entice you.”

“Did it work for you? Show you her?”

“No,”

“Have you seen them since, well, dying?”

Dumbledore dropped his eyes. “I have not.”

Harry tried the stone again after the battle, wanting to see his parents, and Remus, and Tonks, and Sirius, and Fred, and bloody Severus Snape. The air chilled but no one came. He put the stone and the wand in his moleskin pouch, buried in his trunk.

The cloak he kept close to him, Harry’s most prized possession. And it was dead useful in those early weeks, when Harry couldn’t take a step without someone wanting to hug him, to shake his hand, to touch him.

————

Ginny and Hermione took to staying by his side. His presence reassured them he hadn’t died. Their presence reminded him what was real. His own mind. His own soul. Nothing and no one else. Harry’s nightmares were gone, but the girls would wake him during the night, sagging in relief when he opened his eyes.

“It’s called sleeping,” he muttered.

“Well, you look fucking dead to us,” Ginny answered.

So the three of them moved as a unit for weeks. They went to funerals. They cared for the castle. They spoke little, saying everything by being there.

Harry and Hermione had a front row to Fred’s bereavement, then. George could only stand to be around Charlie or Percy. Brothers whose pain was softer.

But George would look for Ginny in the evenings. She was the twins’ co-conspirator, their biggest fan. Her grief was large enough for George to show his. Hermione and Harry would sit on the other side of the room, Harry’s stomach turning, Hermione holding his hand.

“It’s my fault,” Harry said one night, tired of holding it in.

Hermione turned to face him, fierce. “Go say that to George and Ginny. See what they think.”

“They’d never admit it.”

Hermione looked insulted. “This war was about more than you, Harry. You think Tonks would have given into fascists? You think Fred wanted Charlie killed?”
“Why would Charlie be killed?” Harry asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

————

Ron attended to Molly, a good assistant to Bill and Fleur. He’d sit with Harry in the mornings. “It’s just over now,” he said, disbelieving.

Harry disagreed. Privately, he felt they’d cut off the head of the snake, but there was no end to hate. Orphans and widowers and, my god, the grieving mothers. “Hermione’s parents. That needs undoing,” he said, voicing the concrete thing.

Percy approached Harry one evening, anxious. “Harry?”

“Yeah Perce?” His apology has been accepted, and as far as Harry was concerned there was no need for uneasiness.

“Not to pry, but Ron’s a bit paranoid about it…Are you with Hermione?”

Harry had been with Ginny twice that month, once when she grabbed onto him for dear life and he grabbed back, once when their sadness needed to be shared. Now, there were just kisses on cheeks and foreheads and hugs and a need for closeness. With Ginny, the worry of the past year was gone, replaced by a constant awareness of where she was. It was effortless, calming. Like checking the sky for rain.

But the same was true for him and Hermione.

“I don’t think anyone is thinking about relationships right now.”

Percy made a face like he disagreed. “Bill and Fleur—”

“Are married,” Harry answered.

————

Ron approached the three of them the next day, “Can I talk to Harry alone for a moment?”

Harry sighed, stood up, walked with Ron.

Ron gestured, “It feels off, doesn’t it? You think you three are jinked?”

“What?” Harry didn’t understand.

“It seems like you are always together,” Ron insisted. “Never apart.”

“Well, they thought I was dead,” Harry shuddered, re-hearing their screams.

“I did too, but I’m not hanging on your every word.”

“Hermione and I haven’t been apart for a year,” Harry said sharply.

“I stopped you from drowning,” Ron said, like it was equal to what Hermione did, by staying.

“You did.”

“She kissed me,” Ron insisted. “You saw.”

“I did.”

“I want to be with Hermione,” he admitted, hand on his neck.

“I think you should talk to Hermione about that, not me,” was Harry’s immediate answer.

“Don’t be a dick,” Ron snapped.

“You’re the one acting like I’m Hermione’s keeper.”

“She hasn’t left you alone!” Ron insisted.

“I don’t mind. Don’t feel much like being without her either.”

“But you and I are fine without each other?” Ron seemed to regret asking as soon as he’d said it.

Harry was too tired to lie. “I guess so,” he allowed, and it was true.

“Are you ever going to forgive me?” Ron asked, like he deserved it, like Harry should show it more.

“You’re already forgiven, Ron.”

“If you say so,” Ron replied, before walking away.

————

Harry took to sleeping on the floor between Ginny and Hermione’s beds. Ginny and Hermione would talk softly across the dark, a cadence unique to their six years of shared nights. It lulled Harry to sleep.

Ron joined Percy in spending the days with George and Molly, Percy who was desperate to make amends and Ron who found the friends he’d left behind weren’t waiting for him to return.

“You kissed me,” he said to Hermione one day, not caring that Ginny was there.

Ginny laughed before leaving the room. “Smooth, Ron.”

“Why haven’t we talked about it,” Ron continued.

Hermione sighed, “There’s not much to say. I care for you, Ron. I was glad you came back. I was glad you cared about something I did. You looked rather rugged holding those fangs.”

“How about now?” He sat close to her.

“Now, I think I’m sad and scared about my parents and need to remind myself that Harry is alive and I’m just glad to finally not be going mad worrying about Ginny.”

“She’s tough,” he said. “I didn’t worry about her much.”

“Maybe you don’t know what she went through,” Hermione challenged.

Ron frowned. “And you do?”

“Have you even asked her?”

“It’s…She should tell me about it. I’m her brother.”

“I wouldn’t know Ron. I’m an only child. But I think the others have asked her.”

“That’s the last thing George needs, someone else’s shit. Or Percy, more junk to beat himself up with.”

“Whatever you think is best,” is where Hermione left it that night.

Ron questioned Harry and Hermione again the next month, finding them outside with Ginny, looking at stars.

Ron was drunk. “Are you ever going to get over it? I came back!”

“I’m over it,” Harry said.

“I understand, Ron. It all worked out,” Hermione said.

They were relaxed, spaced out—the moon was almost full and the sky was clear.

Then, “What do you mean, you came back?” Ginny asked, dangerous.

The question was met with silence and thick air.

Ginny sat up. “You left?” Ron said nothing.

She turned to Harry and Hermione, “He left you?” They looked at each other, shrugged but didn’t say anything.

Ginny stood. “You fucking left them???”

“It wasn’t so cozy on the run, not like you three all clingy with your tongues down each other’s throats. That what everyone thinks, so you’re not fooling—”

Ginny took two steps up to him, got near his face. “I think I’m going to punch you.” She made a fist.

Ron backed up, stumbled, spat, “fucking cunt,” before unsteadily wondering back to the Burrow.

——————

Charlie built a barn out back and moved some creatures in. “Caring for something magical is good for the soul.”

Molly and Arthur loved their Pygmy Puffs. They’d laugh, “Pure cuteness. Like the boys as babies.”

Hermione used the barn as a private place to cry.

Ginny found her one afternoon. “It’s going to be okay.”

“You don’t know that,” Hermione said.

“I do. You have Harry. You have me.”

Hermione shook her head. “Not really,”

Ginny cupped her chin, “Yes, really,” her eyes blazed.

Hermione stared, hardy believing as Ginny pulled Hermione on top of her.

—————-

Hermione gave them all study schedules for NEWTS. “I figured no one wants to go back.”

Ron groaned at his schedule. “And you lot are leaving the country? How am I gonna get through this?”

Harry thought for a moment. “Percy would jump at the chance to help you.”

Ron nodded. “How I’m the one stuck with Percy…”

Ginny tamped down anger at labeling Percy as someone to be stuck with. She tried, “Before school, you two were always the closest.”

“Not by choice,” Ron whined. Ginny bit back her retort.

After a week or so of studying, Ron announced, “Maybe I don’t want to be an auror. I’m sure George could use help.”

Ginny didn’t mention that Percy was already helping George, desperate to be there for anyone who would let him.

——————

Charlie had big plans for Ginny. He always thought she was special. “How much physical training can we fit into that study schedule Hermione made you?”

He had the skill to coach, and apparently never lost the passion for the sport. Ginny was the perfect student, dedicated and demanding. Hermione suggested she drop a NEWT or two to allow for more training, sure Ginny would be going pro.

“I can manage the NEWTs,” Ginny insisted. “It’s good to stay busy. And I’ll need things to do, once you two leave.”

Hermione was going to Australia to retrieve her parents, and Harry was going too.

Once the school’s security was stabilized, Bill did some work on Grimmauld. George got in the habit of spending the day there, scheming. “Let me do up your house, yeah?”

Harry gave him access to his bank account. “Go nuts.”

Before Harry and Hermione left, he had Ginny over to show her George was planning. And to ask her something important. Swallowing his nerves, he took her hand. “You’ll move in, once we’re back?”

Ginny nodded, hugged him tight. Then, “Where can a girl get a good shag in this house?”

Harry laughed, “I wouldn’t know.”

On the fourth floor, they found a decent looking couch. Ginny cast a freshening charm, then pushed him onto it.

“We’re going to have lots of sex in this house,” she told him, her hand between his legs.

“Great,” he panted, heart beating wildly.

“Lots, Potter.” Ginny rarely talked about sex. She preferred to do it. But she paused, stroking his thigh and waiting for his affirmation

“Whenever you want, Gin,” he breathed.

“I’ll hold you to that,” and then she put his dick in her mouth.

—————-

Hermione fretted about leaving Ginny behind as their trip approached.

Ginny had a nonchalance about their departure. It made sense to Harry. They’d left her before, for something they weren’t sure they’d come back from. This time, they had a straightforward goal. And she would be busy herself.

“She says she isn’t even going to miss us!” Hermione snapped.

“She said she won’t have time to miss us, because she’ll be busy,” Harry said.

“Are you going to be too busy to miss her?”

“Probably not,” Harry conceded.

“Me neither,” Hermione admitted.

———

Percy found Harry alone one evening, and decided to demand details.

“Harry. This has gone on long enough. Are you with Hermione? Because if you’re not, Ron deserves—“

Charlie must’ve caught wind, because he cut in and saved him. “—Oi, Percy, shove off. It’s no one’s business but theirs, alright? And why are you doing Ron’s dirty work?”

Percy glared, “Maybe not every relationship has to be secret! And can’t you see that it involves Ginny too? That’s not right!”

Charlie scowled, “Do you know how dumb you sound? Fuck off.”

Percy walked away. Charlie sighed. “Sorry about him, Harry. My parents have encouraged a certain narrow-mindedness about relationships. Luckily, Bill decides things for himself, and Fred and George couldn’t give a fuck. Still, to see this shit from Percy and Ron…They’ll get over it, eh?”

“Ginny asked for a ward so that if anyone wishing us ill tries to visit Grimmauld, they’ll break out in boils,” Harry shared. Not everything had to be a secret. “You know, Ginny is moving in once we’re back from Australia.”

Charlie nodded. “You three are great complements. It’s something with history in our world, you know. Alternate arrangements.”

“Erm..”

“Not everyone talks about it, but it’s more common then you’d think,” Charlie said, with a small smile.

Harry just nodded. Charlie clapped him on the shoulder, and left him to his thoughts.

————

Drunk in Australia, her head against his shoulder, Hermione told him. “I got off telling Ginny about us.”

“So did I.”

Hermione nodded. “She said you had.”

They’d been filthy, disgusted with themselves and each other, when they found a natural spring. They washed and dried and hugged, a celebration of freedom from dirt. Then, they kissed. It was surprising in how obvious it felt.

Harry didn’t pause until he was hard against her stomach. Maybe it wasn’t fair to ask while rubbing his body over hers. “Do you…is this okay?”

Hermione aughed against his cheek, “Good, even.”

He still hesitated. “You’re sure—”

“Harry,” she licked his neck. “Please,” and he obliged.

“She asked me how it was,” Hermione smiled into his neck.

Harry laughed, because of course Ginny asked that. “What’d you say.”

“Good. But desperate.”

Harry nodded.

“She said I should ask to try it slow.”

Harry took a sip of his beer. “Did she?”

Hermione took the beer from his hands, set it on the table, and straddled his lap.

They got through the trip that way, being physical with each other.

“Do you think of her,” Hermione asked, catching her breath.

“Not really, not when it’s us,” deciding that was mostly true, though Ginny was never far from his mind, especially not when he thought of pleasure.

“I do,” she confided.

————

Hermione’s parents decided to move back to England. “We liked our life. We can build something similar.” They were smart. Logical. And they wanted to be near their daughter.

Ginny joined a pro team. Energized the league, drawing eyes and winning hearts. The papers showed Harry as the camera shy boyfriend. People loved them, sent letters asking for relationship advice, shared their own post-war love stories.

One day, Hermione’s parents asked her, “Is Harry with Ginny, or you?”

“Yes,” she answered.

Telling Harry and Ginny later, Hermione mused, “Why is everyone so fascinated?”

“Because we’re hot,” Ginny said over Harry’s snort, “And they want to know who to picture doing what to whom,” she grinned.