Chapter Text
Chapter 20
Sunday (Last Sunday of November)
“Are you ready?”
“If I said ‘no’ would we turn around?” Harry questioned giving Ginny’s hand a gentle squeeze.
The pair stood just beyond the boundary of The Burrow’s apparation point gazing up at the house. In truth Harry marvelled at the house. In Harry’s mind The Burrow stood as a testament to everything the Weasley’s had been through. The house reached several stories into the otherwise open sky and was miraculously held upright by longstanding magic. Yet despite its somewhat chaotic design, rooms and floors added on when needed while the Weasley family had grown bigger, The Burrow stood as a depiction of close family with deep bonds.
“No, and you’ve no need to be nervous,” Ginny replied before giving Harry’s hand a squeeze.
Ginny’s answer was short but eased some of Harry’s nerves. While he had spent much of the past days worrying—what with the escalating work that was involved with locating the Death Eater’s and his impending meeting with Ginny’s family—while Ginny had done her best to sooth his worries. What had worked was Ginny mentioning Harry already knew, and had worked, with over half her family; Arthur and Molly had served as his teachers, meanwhile Harry had worked alongside Ron and Bill. Of the Weasleys there were three Harry had not met: Charlie, the Dragon Tamers; Percy, the Ministry of Magic Clerk; and George, the man who ran the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes empire.
Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. “Okay, I think I’m ready,” Harry stated softly, not entirely sure he trusted his own words.
“It’ll be okay,” Ginny said, leaning upwards to plant a reassuring kiss upon his cheek.
And with that the pair walked through the gates.
Mercifully, in the hopes of easing more of Harry’s worries, Ginny had privately asked her parents if she could bring ‘someone special’ around early for introductions before chaos broke loose when everyone descended upon The Burrow.
With each step the pair took Harry felt the knot in his stomach clench and tighten. WHy was he so nervous? He had known Molly and Arthur for nearly half his life, yet this felt like such a different experience. What if they thought less of him for dating their daughter? All those thoughts, and more, swirled through his mind as they climbed the porch steps.
“Mum, I’m home,” Ginny called out after opening the door.
Ginny’s voice is greeted by the familiar motherly voice of Molly Weasley as her thick head of hair comes into view.
“Ginny, it’s great to see you,” Molly says, stepping out of the kitchen. With each step Molly drew closer until she had enveloped her daughter in a tight hug. Pulling away Molly turned to him, her eyes going wide. “Harry,” Molly cried out; “it’s so good to see you again.”
The next moment Harry felt himself pulled forward and wrapped in a tight hug.
“Hi Molly,” Harry managed to say while being given Molly’s Weasley’s patented ‘Motherly Hug’.
Stepping away from Harry, Molly gave him a good look up and down before turning and shouting into the depths of The Burrow. “Arthur, come to the sitting room. We’ve got a guest.”
It doesn’t take long for Arthur Weasley to emerge from further within the house.
“Harry,” Arthur exclaimed loudly, pulling Harry into a gruff but warm hug before pulling away. “How’ve you been? Everything okay at the MLE?” Arthur forges onward, his line of questioning drawing a groan and head shake from Molly.
Taking a half-step back Harry felt his finger brush against Ginny’s as they held hands once again.
“I’ve been good, had a brief stint at Mungo’s, but nothing too serious” Harry responded cordially with a shrug. “As for the MLE there isn’t much I can say, Ron’ll probably have a better idea than me since I’m on a field case at the moment,” Harry added, not wishing to go into further depth regarding his current assignment.
Arthur, seeming to sense Harry’s intention of not wishing to elaborate, turned to Ginny. Stepping forward Arthur went to hug his daughter only to pause when his gaze landed upon their hands.
“Oh.”
That soft sound from Arthur is enough to attract Molly’s attention.
“Ginny?”
Molly’s voice is soft but implores an explanation from her daughter.
“Mum, Dad, the reason we dropped by early was so I can introduce you to my boyfriend, Harry.”
As the words left Ginny’s lips Harry couldn’t help hide the smile that twists at his lips. His cheeks might be slightly-tinged pink from embarrassment but that doesn’t do much to dampen his excitement to see Molly and Arthur’s reaction. Where once—no more than a handful of minutes before—he had been nervous, now Harry stood anxious but hopeful for a positive response.
If Harry had expected an outburst he got one, but not in the way he had expected. Molly’s facial expression shifts from surprise to shock and eventually ends on Joyful as she pulls both Harry and Ginny into a tight hug.
“I’m so happy for you . . . both of you,” Molly exclaims once she had pulled away from them, her gaze lingering on their attached hands. “How long has it been?”
Harry went to answer Molly’s question but it’s Ginny who first speaks. “Three weeks, but we spent quite a while dancing around each other” Ginny said in a soft and somewhat sheepish voice.
Harry nodded in confirmation.
“Well regardless, I’m happy for you. Right Arthur?”
At Molly’s side Arthur simply nods, his approval granted.
***
For Harry the rest of the morning went rather smoothly, or it was until the other Weasley’s, along with their partners, began descending upon The Burrow. First came Bill and Fleur, Victoire hugging her dads leg while Fleur carried baby Dominique. They were followed shortly by the always prompt Percy and Audrey. Next to arrive were George and Angelina, their laughter serving to announce their arrival. And last were Ron and Hermione, obviously fresh off the heels of a lengthy discussion that had left them both a little more animated than they might have liked.
During everyone’s arrival Harry and Ginny sat side-by-side on the love seat, his arm draped across Ginny’s shoulders and her cuddling into him. For Harry this moment felt like a dream, or it would if he wasn’t constantly receiving side-eyed glances and the occasional glare from Ginny’s brothers.
Its Ron, fresh off exiting the kitchen with a red hand where Molly slapped it while he tried to taste test dessert, who first speaks up.
“Harry,” Ron jubilantly exclaimed before drawing to an abrupt stop. “What the bloody—”
“Ronald, watch your mouth,” Molly screeched from the kitchen.
Harry could hardly blame Ron for his outburst; after all his friend—the one who served as both his mentor and boss—was cuddled up with his younger sister who wore a content smile.
“Ron—”
“When . . . How long have you two been—you know—together?” Ron interrupted, stumbling for words and he ventured further into the sitting room.
“You’re such an eloquent poet Ronald, truly the wordsmith of our generation,” Ginny joked from where she sat, clearly not deigning to answer his question.
Before Ron could respond a loud snicker echoed from across the entrance of the sitting room. The snicker came from George. Beside him—clearly trying her best to hold back her laughter—sat Angelina with her hand over her mouth. With a muttered apology Angelina ducked her face into George’s shoulder where the pair clearly struggled to hold back any further outbursts.
“So?” Ron, cheeks tinted pink with embarrassment, urged.
“Its been three weeks,” Harry supplied in answer.
“Three weeks?” Ron looked incredulous as he stepped closer to them.
“Yes Ronald, three weeks,” Ginny bit back, a fiery hardness settling over her honey-brown eyes. “And before you—or any of the others—take it out on Harry just know it was me who started this .”
As Ginny spoke those words a silence fell over the sitting room. Harry, unlike Ginny’s brothers, knew this statement to be the truth. The silence seemed to extend infinitely as Ginny glared at each of her brothers in the room; seemingly daring them to jump in and say anything, however no further objection came.
“Food’s ready, I expect everyone at the table promptly.”
Molly’s cry came from the kitchen, signalling the end to their current conversation and the silence that had descended upon them.
***
Chaos, laughter and conversation. Brunch was all those things and more. Molly had prepared a decedent array of dishes that now littered the crowded table. The seemingly mountainous plate of deliciously crispy hash browns quickly disappeared as it circled the table. Once the hash brown had circled the table a second plate with the succulent breakfast sausages emerged; any manners and order that had been present during the hash browns was quickly discarded and a half-dozen hungry forks descended upon the plate at the same time. The third dish to arrive contained heaps of fluffy scrambled eggs and was deliberately put in front of Harry by Molly Weasley. And the last dish to arrive was the plate of towering toast that was accompanied by a collection of jams, jellies and different spreads.
Only when Harry’s plate had been emptied and once again filled—upon Molly’s insistence that he need more food—did he catch Ron’s eyes. A simple tilt of his head and a silent word exchanged, “talk”, was all that was all it took for the two Auror’s to excuse themselves and walk upstairs towards Ron’s vacant room.
Once inside Harry withdrew his wand and muttered “ Muffliato ,” before turning back to Ron.
“Ron, I know you’ve got questions—and I’ll answer them when I can—but there’s something I need you to do for me,” Harry spoke smoothly, holding his hand up to forestall any interruption.
“What is it?”
“How much do you know about my current case?” Harry inquired.
“Nothing really,” Ron admitted with a shrug; “Robards hasn’t really said anything, just that you’re off on an assignment for him and the Minister.”
“He’s not wrong in saying that,” Harry admitted with a laugh.
“So, what is it then?”
“Robards and Kingsley—the Minister—have me investigating and hunting them , the Death Eaters.”
As he spoke Harry watched Ron’s expression shift; surprise, hatred and finally understanding. Harry knew of Ron’s past experiences with Death Eaters. That year at Hogwarts with the Death Eaters; having to endure the Cruciatus Curse for extended periods during detention.
“Who?” Ron asked simply.
“At the moment I’m focusing on Nott and Zabini,” Harry supplied in response, the names eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Ron.
“What can I do to help?” Ron asked, a steely determination reflected in his blue eyes.
Smiling Harry launched into his explanation. “First, if possible, I’d like you to personally deliver this to Kingsley,” Harry said, withdrawing a shrunken down file from his pocket. “If you have any problems go to Nymphadora Tonks—Kingsley’s personal Auror—and she’ll be able to get you a meeting, otherwise rely on Robards.”
Ron nodded, taking the file.
“Second, I want you to do some research for me. Grab any existing files on Nott and Zabini; I want personal recounts from anyone you might know who had contact with them—I’ve already spoken with Draco—during their years at Hogwarts.”
Once again Ron nodded, determination flaring behind his eyes.
“And lastly,” Harry paused, eyes darting off in the direction of the kitchen; “If possible I’d request that you avoid mentioning any of this around your parents or Ginny.”
Confusion seemed to settle over Ron at this request. “Why? I mean other than the obvious—case confidentiality and what not,” Ron inquired, an eyebrow going up in question.
“You remember that manor?” Ron nodded in understanding. “It was owned by Rosier who—years before it became a husk—coincidentally bought it from the Zabini’s for a somewhat ‘reduced’ price.”
“So, what’s any of this have to do with my parents or Ginny?” Ron asked, a mixture of intrigue and confusion written across his expression.
“Well, for one, your parents are worriers, notorious in fact,” Harry paused, across from him Ron shrugged and let out a soft laugh. “The second thing that worries me is the overall proximity. I’m worried, because all evidence I’ve gathered seems to suggest that Zabini is in the area.”
“So—”
“So, I’d appreciate it if you let me tell Ginny because—”
“But she’s my sister,” Ron interjected, his voice rising in volume.
“And she’s my girlfriend, who I love ,” Harry shot back, his voice growing noticeably more quiet as he admitted his feelings.
Across from him Ron’s expression shifted once again, lips parting and eyes bulging in surprise.
“You lo—”
“Yes, so please let me tell her,” Harry pleaded.
“Fine.”
Confirmation received Harry lowered the Muffliato charm and the two Auror’s moved their way downstairs back to where the chaos only seemed to be ramping up.
***
Hours later, upon their arrival back at the small flat, the pair stored the brunch leftovers Molly had forced upon them and moved towards what had become their favourite spot. It was on the love seat that Harry and Ginny cuddled, a blanket thrown over them to ward off the late November chill.
Silence, not awkward in its length or reason, fell over them as they settled into each other. It was a moment Harry found himself greatly enjoying. Brunch at The Burrow had been an enjoyable affair, yet it left Harry physically and emotionally drained.
The afternoon had been enjoyable, great even; under a strict warning from Molly any questions regarding their relationship were left unasked. As the time passed Harry, at Ginny’s urging, found himself pulled into many of the Weasley’s antics—their ringleader being George, to no one's surprise—much to his chagrin. When one of George’s ‘new products’ went awry in the garden Harry was left to scramble for cover where he received a sharp bite on his finger from a startled garden gnome.
Otherwise the afternoon had gone smoothly, and now as they settled into a comfortable position it was Ginny who broke the silence.
“Harry, is it okay for me to ask?”
“Go ahead.”
“When you and Ron disappeared earlier today what did you talk about?”
Ginny’s question hit him like a bludger. Harry had known she might ask, but hadn’t gotten around to thinking about a valid explanation. So, he relied upon what he knew worked best. Honesty.
“It was mostly about work,” Harry admitted, running a hand through his messy hair. “But it also had to do with you.”
“Really?” Ginny asked, gazing up at him.
Harry nodded. “I’m getting Ron to deliver files for me while also assisting in some research into the primary targets.”
“So, where do I come into this?”
“Well,” Harry paused, taking a moment to sort through how he wished to say his words. “I know you’ve experienced danger—more so than other people our age should ever have to experience—but I was wondering if I could place some protection wards upon you?”
“Can I ask why?”
Letting out a pent up breath Harry glanced at Ginny and took one of her hands in his. “At the moment I have sufficient reason to believe one of the targets—Blaise Zabini—is within the area.”
As Harry spoke Ginny let out a soft exclamation, her lips forming a distinct ‘O’, as realization settled over her.
“Is Zabini really that dangerous?” Ginny asked softly, searching Harry’s face for any kind of reaction.
Harry nodded. “Weeks ago, right before my ‘accident’ the day of your announcement, Ron and I were investigating some leads. In our investigation we came upon the husk of a manor, torched by Fiendfyre , that once belonged to Zabini and his Mum,” Harry explained. “This connection is a very recent development and makes me strongly believe Zabini has been, or is in the area at the moment.”
Harry’s words fell heavy in the otherwise quite flat. At his side Harry felt Ginny shift, she now sat facing him, her honey-brown gaze staring up at him.
“Harry, you know I’m capable of defending myself?” Ginny asked, clearly a rhetorical question; Harry simply nodded. “I’ve been doing it since I was eleven and can continue it without any assistance,” Ginny added, a certain hardness taking over her voice.
“Ginny, I know that all too well,” Harry whispered, leaning down to place a kiss on her forehead. “You’re an incredibly amazing witch who is fully capable of defending herself, but it would ease my worries if you’d let me cast protective wards—even if its only basic one—over you,” Harry paused, his next words catching in his throat. “Ginny, please,” he pleaded; “the last thing I want is for you, the woman I love, to be hurt because some bastard inadvertently targets you in the hopes of getting me to back off.”
Falling silent Harry let his words settle over them. While Harry had called Ginny ‘Love’ before he had never fully admitted the depth of his feelings. So, as he watched Ginny he felt a swell of emotions—a mixture of worry, happiness and understanding—settle over him.
Ginny’s bright honey-brown eyes had gone soft and the faintest traces of tears could be seen forming in the corners. The next moment Ginny wrapped her arms around Harry’s neck and pulled him down to her face.
“You love me?”
Harry nodded. It was the most honest response he could give.
“I’ll let you cast your wards, but on one condition,” Ginny stated, pulling Harry into a passionate kiss.
“Whatever it is, my answer is yes,” Harry replied breathlessly as they broke the kiss.