aibhinn_fics

Title: Heal The Pain
Chapter 4 - 'The More Things Change, The More They Stay The Same' (Part 1)
Rating: Teens
Words: 11,400 (Both parts)
A/N: The beginning of this chapter is rated R for mild adult content.

Harry Potter propped himself up on an elbow and looked down into the sleeping face of the woman he loved.

The treehouse swayed gently in the morning breeze, which smelled fresh and green. The storm had blown itself out sometime during the night, while they had slept wrapped in each other's arms, covered in Ginny's Summoned bedclothes and resting on a Cushioning Charm that kept them off the hard floorboards.

He reached up and gently swept a strand of hair out of Ginny's face. Their lovemaking had been passionate, breathtaking, as though they had been trying to block out the pain and sorrow of the past few months. He should have felt drained after so little sleep; instead, he felt strangely content, as if Ginny's touch had somehow healed some of the raw, unseen wounds the Last Battle had left on him. His side throbbed painfully, but he didn't care. All that mattered to him now was that he had Ginny here, safe and warm and his once again.

She shifted slightly, turning onto her back, and he ran his eyes down the length of her quilt-covered body, stopping at her flat stomach. His heart twinged, and he reached out a hand as though to touch her, but held back at the last moment, not wanting to awaken her.

Her revelation of the night before still shook him, all the more so now that he'd had a chance to think about it. A baby. His baby. And it had never had a chance at life because Voldemort had risen again, greater and more terrible than ever before. If Ginny hadn't done what she'd done, the whole wizarding world would now be in his power.

And Ginny would be dead, alongside Sirius, and Dumbledore, and Hagrid…

He gave in to his desire to touch her and let his hand rest on her abdomen, feeling the gentle rise and fall of her soft breaths. For a moment, one brief moment, he closed his eyes and let himself imagine what his life might be like now if the Battle had not taken place.

Ginny would be—he counted silently—about four months pregnant. We'd be planning for the baby—choosing names—probably panicking more than a little, trying to figure a way for Ginny to finish school—almost certainly married as soon as we could—

His eyes sprang open again.

Married to Ginny.

The idea had never been spoken aloud by either of them. But ever since last September, when he'd had his first and only Vision, he had known that it would happen. He'd Seen it; it had been an accepted part of his plans for the future. It still was, come to that—their marriage, and the little, black-haired infant he had Seen in his Vision as well. He couldn't imagine any other outcome.

But Visions don't always come true, he reminded himself, stroking his thumb across the quilt, over her flat stomach. Things change. For better or worse, things change.

All he had ever wanted was a normal life, a normal family. All he had ever wished for was to love and be loved. The night before, he had been too concerned over Ginny's own fears and well-being to truly consider what it was she was telling him. Now the realisation came crashing down on him. I was almost a father, he thought, his stomach lurching and a feeling of awe beginning to form. A father! We almost had a child!

But then the enormous reality struck, and the awe fled, replaced by the bitter anger he was far too familiar with.

And Voldemort took that from us, just like he took everything else.

Ginny made a small sound of protest and shifted again. Harry noticed that his hand had tightened on the bedclothes, pressing down on her. He consciously relaxed his muscles and she settled down, rolling slightly onto her side away from him, presenting him with an appealing view of her naked back.

Sliding out from under the covers, he slipped his boxers on and moved silently to stand at the window, looking out into the first streaks of dawn on the eastern horizon.

I—we—almost had a child. I was almost a dad. And if it hadn't been for Ginny's Vision yesterday, the Death Eaters could have taken someone else I care about.

Harry leaned against the windowsill, fingers gripping the rough wood, shoulders tensed. He wanted desperately to hit something. No, not something, someone. Preferably someone in a black Death Eater cowl.

Those bastards! Why can't they just leave us the hell alone? His hands tightened on the sill. My parents. Ginny and that damned diary. Sirius in Azkaban. Bertha Jorkins. Cedric. Barty Crouch. The Battle, where they killed a lot of people whose shoes they aren't fit to lick. Remus, kidnapped and tortured. Children dead in the streets.

And then the baby. Our baby.

And the goddamned bastards are after the Weasleys now, too!

A sharp pain pierced his hand, and he looked down, raising his hand to see what had happened. He had been gripping the unfinished wood so hard that a splinter had dug into the centre of his left palm. He closed his fist over it, squeezing tightly, almost enjoying the pain. It was something to focus on besides the consuming fury. He stood there in the chill morning air, letting the pain radiate through his palm, trying to slow his heart rate and calm his nerves before he did something stupid—like trying to punch a hole through the side of the treehouse.

Oh, for a wand and ten minutes alone with Lucius Malfoy…

"Harry?"

He jumped and spun, his hand automatically going to his hip, searching for the wand that lay beside their makeshift bed. Ginny was sitting up, holding the quilt over her breasts, leaning on one hand. Her expression was contrite.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

She looked so beautiful, tousled from sleep, that he was drawn back to her side. He sat down beside her, trying to push the anger away. "It's okay, Gin," he said, and kissed her gently, cupping her cheek with his hand. "I just didn't know you were awake."

"Are you all right?" she said, pulling back to look at him, her soft brown eyes wide with worry. "You looked—upset."

He opened his mouth to tell her a reassuring lie, but suddenly, he couldn't do it. He couldn't lie to her. "I am," he admitted. "A bit. I was thinking about…the baby."

He saw fear appear in her eyes, and suddenly realised how that must have sounded. "I'm not upset with you, love," he said quickly, bringing up his other hand to curve around her cheeks, brushing her cheekbones with his thumbs. "I'm angry that we never had the chance. I'm angry that our child was taken from us before we even knew he—or she—existed. I'm angry that Voldemort and his cronies have taken so much from us, and from so many people that we know and love." He kissed her again. "But not at you, Gin," he said softly, meeting her gaze and praying that the truth of what he was saying was written in his eyes. "Never at you."

She looked at him for a long moment before she smiled, and he felt some of the tension leave her. He felt another rush of resentment at Voldemort for having hurt Ginny so terribly and for giving her reason to fear him—him, Harry, of all people!—but he swallowed it, pushing it away again so that he could comfort her.

She reached up with her hand to stroke the back of his, pressing it closer to her cheek, then blinked in surprise and pulled his hand away from her face. "What in the world—" She took a look at his palm and sucked in her breath. "Harry, how did you manage to get that?" she asked, looking at the splinter. "That's huge! I need to get that out of there. Where's my wand?"

"Probably back at the house," he said as she leaned over to grab her dressing gown, pawing through it. "Honestly, Ginny, it'll be fine. It's just a little splinter."

"It's a great huge splinter, and it could get infected!" she said firmly. Giving up on looking for her wand, she pulled his hand closer to her, tucking it under her arm so she could get a better angle. "Hold still," she said, and tried to pull the sliver out with her fingernails.

He hissed in pain, but didn't move. She had beautiful, long nails, and the splinter hadn't gone completely under the skin; she was just able to grasp the tail end and pull it free. "There," she said. With a wicked grin, she raised his hand and kissed it softly, letting her lips trail across his palm.

He sucked in a sharp breath again, but for a completely different reason this time. He felt her smile against his hand, and then she was reaching upward to wrap her arms around him. Their lips met, and he let her pull him down to lie beside her once more, craving the comfort of her touch. They kissed slowly, lingeringly. He stroked his hands over her velvety skin as her own caressed him, dancing over his torso, skirting the edges of his bandages and trailing fire wherever they touched.

They loved each other again, with a soft intensity that left them both shuddering in awed completion. When at last they lay together in afterglow, their pounding hearts slowing, Harry glanced up at the window. It was starting to glimmer with the light of full dawn approaching.

"We should go," he sighed. "Before Ron wakes up and realises I haven't slept in my bed—and then finds out you haven't slept in yours, either."

"Ron!" Ginny suddenly sat straight up in bed, eyes wide with terror. "Oh, God, Ron! I almost forgot!"

"Forgot what?" he asked, sitting up beside her. The look on her face was enough to send alarm shooting through him.

She turned to him, and he was shocked to see that she was shaking again. "When I had the Vision yesterday," she said, "I Saw who they were trying to target. They were after Ron, Harry. I Saw them attack Fred and George and Bill, then Disapparate with Ron." She clutched his hands. "I couldn't tell you with everyone else there, and then, what with Bill and Charlie talking to you three, and then all of us going to reset the wards after Dad and the twins and Percy set things up, it went right out of my head. Oh, God, Harry, what are we going to do? How are we going to protect Ron? We can't even tell him he's in danger!"

Helplessness and fear flooded him as the full import of her words penetrated. He held her hands tightly to reassure her, though he could see nothing at all reassuring in the situation.

Not another friend. Not Ron, too.

He looked into Ginny's desperate eyes, seeing the resemblance to his best friend in the world, and his resolution set. The Death Eaters wouldn't get anywhere near Ron—not if he could help it.

Problem was, he didn't know how he could.

"I don't know, Gin," he said softly, his heart twisting at the admission. "I don't know. But I swear, I won't let anything happen to him." He hugged her to him, taking as much reassurance in her presence as he hoped she did in his. "Come on," he said into her hair. "Let's get back to the house before anyone else wakes up. Bill and Charlie wanted to take the three of us to the Ministry today. With all five of us there, Ron can't be in too much danger—and the Death Eaters certainly can't appear in the middle of the Ministry of Magic. Maybe by the time I get back, either you or I will have thought of something."

Ginny looked up at him. "Isn't there anything else we can do?" she asked, tears in her eyes. "I know he's targeted. I know he is. What if they attack you lot in Diagon Alley?"

"We'll be in the middle of dozens of people, with the Ministry of Magic within sight," Harry said, evading her question as he kissed her forehead and tried to hide his own sickening horror at the thought of Ron being kidnapped. "Love, I'll keep my eyes on him, I promise. But without telling someone how we know, there's just not much else we can do. I'm scared, too," he added softly, touching a finger to her lips as she started to protest. "I've lived in fear of this for years—that they might try to get to me through my friends. But I just don't know what else we can do."

Ginny sighed and leaned against his chest again. "Nothing," she admitted softly. "You're right." She was silent for a moment, and he just held her, letting her take her time to get ready to face the world again. After a moment or two she sat up. "Let's go," she said.

They dressed, Banished the bedding to her room, whence it had come, and tiptoed back into the house just as the sun came fully over the horizon. Ginny slipped into her room with a last soft kiss, and Harry moved as quietly as he could up the stairs to Ron's.

He wasn't really looking forward to the confrontation he half-expected when Ron found out where Harry had spent the night, but there was no use trying to avoid it, either. Ron knew that he and Ginny had been together last year, and though Harry was sure Ron had never known that he and Ginny had been lovers, he certainly wasn't going to lie about it now.

Harry took a deep breath outside Ron's door and opened it quietly. "Ron?" he whispered, taking a hesitant step inside. Then he stopped dead. His own bed obviously hadn't been slept in since he'd taken his nap when he came from the Dursleys'—but Ron's hadn't either.

He stepped fully into the room, frowning as he pushed the door halfway shut behind him, then his eyes widened as a slow fear began to seize his heart. The wards had gone up, yes—but what if something had got through them while he and Ginny were in the treehouse? What if Ron had been taken? What if—?

The door opened, bumping into Harry. He whirled to see Ron standing there, frozen in place with a wide-eyed stare, wearing only a pair of blue boxers and carrying a white t-shirt. It was patently obvious where Ron had spent the night.

"Er—" Ron said intelligently, turning pink.

"Er—yeah," Harry responded just as intelligently, feeling his own face flush as he realised he was still in the clothes he'd worn yesterday. Ron's eyes strayed to Harry's bed, and Harry could almost hear his thoughts.

Gee, Harry, wonder what you were doing last night.

Gee, Ron—probably the same thing you were, do you think?

They stared at each other for a long moment. Harry tensed, waiting for for Ron's temper to explode. But against all expectations, Ron suddenly grinned. "Reckon you didn't have any nightmares last night," he offered, his ears turning even brighter pink.

Harry nearly took a step backwards in shock. Ron was—teasing him? After being confronted with evidence that Harry had spent the night with his sister?

Well, if he spent last night with Hermione, maybe he's feeling sympathetic.

After a couple of heartbeats, Harry recovered enough to say, "No, I didn't. Reckon you didn't kick the covers off last night, either."

Ron's blush deepened, then suddenly the two of them were laughing. Ron shut the door and reached out, clasping Harry's shoulder. Harry clasped Ron's, too, feeling a lightening of his heart. "So you aren't going to kill me, then?" Harry asked, only half joking.

"Nah," Ron said, letting go and heading over to his dresser to pull out clothes for the day. "Not today, at any rate. We've got to go to the Department of Mysteries with Bill and Charlie, remember? Maybe after we've been trained up a bit, I can kill you and make it look like an accident." He shoved his drawer closed and turned, his arms full of clothes. "Sound fair to you?"

Harry grinned. "Sure."

"Right, then. I'll just grab a shower before the rest of the house gets up." Ron started out the door, but stopped on the landing and turned back. "Harry," he said, his voice serious again, "I know you love Ginny, but all joking aside, if you hurt my sister, I will kill you."

"I know, Ron," Harry said, just as seriously, knowing Ron meant every word. "And since Hermione is the closest thing I have to a sister—if you hurt her, I'll kill you."

Ron looked at him for a moment, then smirked. "That's fair," he said as he left, leaving Harry to face the day in a much better mood than he had any right to expect.

Breakfast was fairly quiet; the twins had left for the shop and Mr. Weasley had gone to work as well. Ron and Hermione sat across the table from each other, exchanging loving looks when they thought no one was watching. Harry would have liked to have done the same with Ginny, but she was having far too much fun laughing at her brother and best friend.

"I take it you didn't have to worry about Ron's waiting up for you?" she whispered impishly after the third time Hermione's bare foot slid up under the cuff of Ron's trousers.

"I expect he was rather too, er, busy last night to notice," Harry agreed with a grin. "And I take it you told Hermione as well. I wonder if Percy has any clue what's going on in his old room?"

"Oh, never," Ginny said in mock horror. "He might have to come and disinfect the place or something."

Harry snorted into his bacon and eggs, causing Ron, Hermione, and Mrs. Weasley to look over in surprise.

"Is something wrong, Harry dear?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"N-no," Harry said, stifling chortles and shooting a very bad attempt at a glare at Ginny, who leaned back in her chair and laughed openly. "Everything's great, Mrs. Weasley. Thanks."

"Well, if you're sure," she said worriedly. "I've been a bit concerned about you, dear. Are you sure you slept all right last night?"

That set all four of them off. Harry tried to drown his laughter in his goblet; Ron developed a sudden hacking cough; Hermione put a fist to her lips and turned bright red, shaking with mirth; and Ginny just buried her face in her hands.

"Well, really," Mrs. Weasley said testily, putting a hand on her hip. "I think maybe you all need to go straight back to bed if you're so tired you're giggly."

She turned back to start the washing up, ignoring the redoubled hysteria behind her.

Harry gasped, trying desperately to control himself. He most emphatically did not want Mrs. Weasley knowing anything about what had happened in the treehouse, and he was certain Ginny felt the same. He was equally certain that Ron and Hermione would just as soon Ron's mother believed they slept in separate rooms as well. He pressed his fist to his mouth, fighting to control the spasms of hilarity.

Composure. Control. Composure. Control.

At last he was able to take a shaky breath and dared to look up at Ginny again. She had regained control about the same time he did, but amusement still twinkled in her eyes. He jumped as he felt her sock-clad foot slip dexterously under the cuff of his own trousers, delicately teasing the back of his calf as she stared deliberately at him, her gaze warming noticeably.

A shiver ran through him, and suddenly he was struggling for another reason entirely.

Composure. Control. Composure. Control.

There was an abrupt popping sound, and everyone jumped as Bill and Charlie Apparated into the kitchen. "Morning, Mum," they chorused, each dropping a kiss on Mrs. Weasley's cheek.

"Good morning, boys," she said, smiling up at her two eldest. "Ron was telling me this morning that you lot are going to Diagon Alley today."

"Yeah," Charlie said as Bill helped himself to some toast. "Thought it might do everyone some good to get out for awhile."

Mrs. Weasley frowned. "Do you think it's safe, though?" she said. "I mean, after yesterday—"

"Mum, nobody's going to attack us in Diagon Alley," Charlie said patiently, unconsciously echoing Harry's words to Ginny earlier. "They'd be within sight of the entire Ministry. Nobody's that stupid. Besides, there haven't been any attacks at all in London; they've mostly been up north."

"Except yesterday's," she pointed out, then sighed. "All right, boys, I trust you. And your father and brothers will be nearby, too. Though how much good those twins will be, I don't know. I do wish they'd spend their time doing something a bit more important than playing with practical jokes!"

Bill started coughing, apparently choking on a piece of toast. Ron, who was closest, pounded him on the back.

"They're harmless fun, Mum," Charlie reassured her. "But if we're to get done what needs done, we'd best be off as soon as everyone's finished with breakfast. Are you?"

"Yeah," Ron said, now that Bill had recovered himself. "I'm ready. Hermione?"

"Just let me get my shoes," she said, rising and hurrying back up the stairs. "I'll be right back."

"I'm ready, too," Harry said. He smiled at Ginny, reaching to give her hand a squeeze as he stood. She met his gaze and mouthed two words at him: Watch Ron.

"I will," he said very quietly. "I always do."