Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
Author's Note: For avidbeader, because she asked for more of this fic.
Brace yourselves for a chapter in which nothing happens between H/Hr. Also, Ginny's back-but don't worry. Harry's not as stupid as JKR would have him be.
What Happened Before the Wedding
Chapter 6: Regrets and Reconciliation
"It's Mum's birthday on Thursday," Ron said, his tone indicative of nothing in particular, breaking the comfortable silence in the flat as Hermione read through some papers for work while he and Harry had just finished playing a game of wizarding chess.
"Oh, that's right, it is, isn't it? It had slipped my mind," Harry responded rather idly.
"We're all getting together at the Burrow for dinner on Saturday to celebrate," Ron went on.
Harry managed a quick smile. "That's nice. Wish your mum a happy birthday for me."
"And me," Hermione added.
"Actually," and for the first time, Ron's tone changed slightly, held just enough tension that Harry focused his gaze on Ron curiously, "you can wish her a happy birthday in person. Mum said she wanted you both to come too."
Harry straightened up in his chair. "She did? Really?" And he didn't need to glance at Hermione to know that she was staring at Ron with the same expression. In the month since Ron and Hermione's break-up, Hermione hadn't been to the Burrow at all; as for him, he hadn't seen any of the Weasleys besides Ron and, occasionally, George, at all in the nearly seven months since his breaking up with Ginny.
"Yeah. She specifically told me she wanted you both to come." Ron looked a little uncomfortable before he looked at Harry. "So, will you?"
"Of course," Harry said immediately.
"Yes," Hermione answered at the exact same time.
Ron relaxed into a smile. "Good, then. Mum said we should arrive around 6." He paused and then added, "Oh, and she also said that we weren't to bring her any gifts, on pain of not being given any dessert."
Harry made a face of exaggerated shock. "Denying someone dessert is just cruel! After such a dire threat, I don't think I'll ever dare get anything for your mother again."
Hermione laughed and Ron grinned. "I think that was her point."
"Well, you can tell your mother her warning has been duly noted," Harry quipped. "In fact, I'm so intimidated I don't know if I'll even find the nerve to wish her a happy birthday anymore."
Ron looked at Harry and then looked at Hermione. "He really is quite the coward, isn't he?" he asked, conversationally, as if Harry wasn't in the room at all.
"Hey!" Harry protested in mock offense.
"Oh, I don't know," Hermione joined in the fun, making her tone musing. "Your mum can be rather scary when she's riled. Some might say being intimidated by her was just common sense."
"My mum is about as intimidating as a two-day-old kitten, certainly nothing that should intimidate the great Harry Potter," Ron said, straight-faced, although his voice shook with suppressed laughter.
"We should write the Daily Prophet: 'Harry Potter Scared of a Kitten.'" Hermione just managed to gasp before she and Ron gave in to their laughter.
And Harry just managed to say, in a tone as deliberately pompous as Percy had ever been, "I'll have you know my courage is legendary!" before he, too, succumbed to laughter, setting Ron and Hermione off again.
"That," Ron gasped out in between chuckles, "was the worst imitation of Percy I have ever heard."
Harry tried-and failed-to look offended at this statement, making them all laugh harder.
It was one of those moments that made Harry very aware of how much he'd missed this in the months he and Ron had been estranged; he'd missed the laughter and the teasing. He'd missed the Trio, the interaction of the three of them together that simply could not be replicated when it was only two. Much as Hermione meant to him, she couldn't replace Ron.
Ron went to bed soon after, leaving Harry to flip through the latest issue of one of the several Quidditch magazines they received and Hermione to return to her work.
Harry found, though, that, for once, he could not get particularly interested in Quidditch, distracted by the thought of Saturday's dinner at the Burrow. Mrs. Weasley's invitation seemed to indicate that she was now over her disappointment and her regret over his breaking up with Ginny. He hoped so. It was something he'd hated about these last months, this sick wondering if he had lost the Weasleys, the only family he'd ever really known, as a result of his own stupidity in not realizing sooner that his feelings for Ginny were not deep enough. He had known the Weasleys would be hurt and angry, but as the months had gone by, more and more, he'd begun to fear that, after all, he had lost the Weasleys, that Mrs. Weasley, especially, would never be able to forgive him for what he'd done to Ginny. He was less worried about Mr. Weasley, as he had actually spoken to Mr. Weasley a couple times since the break-up-awkward conversations, every one of them, but at least, they'd spoken. Even the fact that he'd received a Christmas gift from the Weasleys had not particularly comforted him because it had been so clearly chosen by Mr. Weasley, a book that was a compendium of sorts of Muggle devices from the point of view of the magical world. For the first time, he had not received one of Mrs. Weasley's usual Christmas jumpers.
As for Ginny, he didn't expect that she would have forgiven him, didn't know if she ever really would. He had almost resigned himself to it.
But he could not resign himself to losing Mr. and Mrs. Weasley as well. It was not something he could have put into words but he was eternally grateful to them for the way they'd unhesitatingly welcomed him into their family fold. If he did not, exactly, look upon them as parents, he certainly considered them in the light of an aunt and uncle-and cared for them much more than he had ever cared for his real aunt and uncle. They had given a lonely, friendless orphan the first glimpse of family he'd ever known and he would never forget it. Aside from Ron, their hurt and disappointment and anger had been what concerned him most, even more than Ginny's feelings over their break-up.
And now, this invitation to a family event…
He suddenly remembered how Hermione had told him, when he'd first told her of his doubts about marrying Ginny and his fears that the Weasleys would hate him, families are more than just about the blood relationships or ties by marriage. It's also about love and loyalty and caring for each other…
"You shouldn't worry, Harry. Mrs. Weasley must have forgiven you to invite you over again. I told you she would forgive you eventually."
Hermione's voice broke into his reverie, her words fitting so perfectly into his thoughts that he wasn't even startled by the interruption. He didn't know how she did it; it was just part of the magic that was her, and he felt his heart give a dangerous throb of emotion. "When did you learn to read minds?" he asked, trying to laugh a little.
She smiled, as he'd known she would. "I can't, but I do know you, and I knew you weren't thinking about Quidditch, because you haven't turned a page in more than 15 minutes."
He glanced down at the Quidditch magazine he still held open in his lap, having forgotten about it entirely, and had to laugh. "As always, you're right. I wasn't thinking about Quidditch."
She lifted one shoulder into a half-shrug. "You shouldn't brood over Saturday's dinner, Harry."
"I wasn't brooding, I was… pondering."
Hermione looked rather as if she wanted to mildly scold him for his half-hearted attempt at evasion but her lips curved up into an indulgent half-smile. "Well, then, don't ponder. It's going to be fine. Exactly how many times have you been invited to the Burrow in the past six months?"
He shot her a somewhat narrow-eyed glance, but gave up on even trying to be annoyed at her. "None, and you're right. Mrs. Weasley would hardly ask us over if she didn't want to see us."
She smiled. "There? You see? Now, stop worrying."
"Yes, ma'am," was all he said, giving her a half-teasing salute, and she just shook her head a little, although a smile tugged at the corners of her lips, as she returned to her work.
He looked back down at the magazine, succeeding in pushing any thoughts of Saturday out of his mind.
~
"Ron! Harry, Hermione, come in." Mr. Weasley opened the door to their knock, greeting them expansively. He gave Ron a quick hug, put his arm around Hermione's for a half-hug, and then turned to Harry. "Harry, it's good to see you."
Harry attempted a completely natural smile, but was conscious that he failed, his smile being a little wobbly, uncertain. "Hi, Mr. Weasley."
Mr. Weasley shook his hand heartily, gripping it tightly, after an almost imperceptible hesitation. "Harry, how many times do I have to remind you to call me Arthur?"
Harry relaxed at these words, familiar as they were, but then instantly tensed up again as Mrs. Weasley appeared.
"Arthur, why are you all still standing about in the hallway? Come in, come in. Ron," she greeted her youngest son with a hug.
"Hi, Mum, happy birthday."
Mrs. Weasley also gave Hermione a hug, somewhat more tentatively than usual. "Hello, Hermione."
"Happy birthday, Mrs. Weasley," Hermione smiled.
"And, Harry, how good to see you!" Mrs. Weasley proceeded to give him one of her usual motherly hugs, which should have comforted him except for the fact that both Mrs. Weasley's voice and her hug were a shade too enthusiastic.
"Hi, Mrs. Weasley. Happy birthday." He hesitated and then added, more quietly, the words almost impelled from him, "I've missed you."
For a split second, Mrs. Weasley's smile faltered and he saw the sadness and the disappointment she'd felt-because of him-reflected in her eyes. But then, she quickly masked it.
"Come in to the kitchen. We're all here now and dinner's ready. Are you all hungry?"
Mrs. Weasley's cheerful tones accompanied them as she hustled them into the kitchen, and promptly began bustling around in her usual manner.
Harry suppressed a brief sigh, but then was comforted as he felt Hermione grasp his hand and give it a surreptitious squeeze, and was able to smile and greet Bill, Fleur, Charlie, and George with more cheer.
The conversation became general and he was grinning and talking to George when Ginny came in. For one moment, everyone-with the exception of Hermione-- glanced from her to him, all conversation stopping, and then everyone began talking again, a little too quickly.
Ginny greeted Ron with a hug, Hermione with a smile, and then showed every indication of planning to ignore him altogether, but Harry stepped in, edging forward until she had to face him. This first meeting since their break-up would be the worst, he knew, and it couldn't be avoided. "Hello, Ginny."
"Hello." The word was spoken so coldly he was half-surprised that icicles didn't form from it. With that, Ginny turned away from him, immediately beginning to talk to Charlie and Fleur with a brightness that was too overtly blithe to be real.
He had a sudden memory of the way she'd always used to greet him before, the brightness of her smile, her immediate hug and kiss, and the stark contrast hit him like a slap. He felt a sudden surge of regret, not because he wanted her back, not in that way, but for the affection he'd lost. Affection of any kind had been too scarce for him for so many years and meant enough to him that he hated to lose it-and to lose Ginny's, even if he knew he deserved it and even if he'd been expecting it, somehow hurt.
He pushed aside his emotion, promptly manufacturing a smile, as he turned back to George and tried to seem completely natural.
Now was not the time to think about his changed relationship with Ginny or anything else. He concentrated instead on appearing casual, steadfastly ignoring the proverbial elephant in the room in the awkward undercurrents, as everyone else appeared to be trying to do. It got easier, helped by the fact that George was his usual self.
There was a brief moment of returning tension when they all moved to sit around the table, as Ginny made something of a production of ensuring that she was seated as far from Harry as possible, but as everyone ignored it, Harry found it easier to do so as well. And knew he succeeded in appearing unaffected when Hermione stopped giving him quick, half-concerned glances.
As always at one of the Weasley family dinners, the table was groaning under the weight of all the food Mrs. Weasley had prepared and, under the influence of the food and the casual atmosphere that prevailed at these dinners, Harry found himself relaxing. It felt so much like it had always been, nothing really changed. He could almost imagine it was back during their Hogwarts years, long before anything had happened between him and Ginny, long before anything he'd ever done had marred the Weasley's family peace. If it hadn't been for the absence of Fred and Percy-and for the way Ginny immediately looked away whenever their gazes accidentally met across the table, steadfastly ignoring his presence-he really could have imagined nothing had ever happened and all was well again.
But Ginny did ignore his presence. It shouldn't have been quite so obvious, given how many people were sitting at the table, but somehow it was, perhaps made so by the contrast to how Ginny had always behaved with Harry before. Before, she'd always had a smile for Harry, hung onto his every word as if everything he said was the wisest, funniest, most fascinating thing she'd ever heard. Now, Ginny smiled and talked with everyone at the table except Harry and did it all with such studied carelessness that it was almost enough to make Harry wonder if he'd somehow slipped underneath his Invisibility Cloak without realizing it. She wasn't really ignoring his presence so much as she was acting as if he wasn't present at all.
It was pointed. It was deliberate. It was unmistakable. And it was making everyone uncomfortable, a constant reminder of the reason for the underlying tensions.
And Harry felt another surge of regret swamp him. He hadn't wanted this. He didn't expect Ginny to have forgiven him yet; he certainly didn't expect, or even want, her to treat him anywhere close to the way she'd treated him before. But he didn't want them to be enemies either. He might not love her, but he did care about her and he didn't want her to hate him.
And this thought was what compelled him to waylay Ginny as they all got up to go into the family room after dinner, stopping her from following with a quick hand on her arm. A hand he immediately dropped as she sizzled a glare at his offending hand. "Ginny, wait."
"What?"
Her tone was about as welcoming as a Manticore, but Harry persevered. He was conscious of an odd sensation of… ease… in spite of the acid taste of regret in his mouth. It was ridiculous; why should he feel strangely more at ease with Ginny now? But even as he thought it, he suddenly realized why; it was because, for the first time since he'd met her, she wasn't treating him with any trace of hero worship. He'd never known exactly how to react, never felt completely at ease, with her hero worship and now, he felt… more at ease with her, oddly enough. Now, in spite of his regret and her anger, he could be more straightforward with her. "Ginny, I'm sorry. I- you have no idea just how sorry I am for hurting you. I hate knowing that I hurt you. Can't you forgive me? I'll do anything-let me know what I can do to try to make it up to you and I'll do it," he promised recklessly.
"You want to know what you can do to make me forgive you?"
"Yes."
Ginny studied him for a moment, and then answered, coolly, with a slight narrowing of her eyes, "Marry me, in July, like we were planning to before."
He recoiled slightly. He couldn't help it. Hated himself for reacting so obviously, but it was automatic. "Ginny! You-I-we-I can't!" he blurted out, less than fluently. He hesitated and then, "You- you still want to marry me, even after what I did?"
"This isn't about you, Harry," she snapped. "It's about what you can do to make it up to me for what you did."
"But- Ginny, I- I can't marry you," he faltered.
Her eyes flashed. "Then I can't forgive you. Do you have any idea what these past months have been like for me? Do you?!"
"I- no," he admitted.
"People staring at me, pointing at me, a moment of silence the moment I walk into a room before everyone starts to talk, wondering why you didn't want me. I'm the Girl Who Was Dumped by Harry Potter, and now everyone thinks there's something wrong with me that made you not want to marry me!"
"Can't you-you can tell people that you were the one who decided you didn't want to marry me."
She gave him a look that could have pulverized rock. "Don't be stupid! Do you really think anyone will believe that? I could swear until I was blue in the face that I was the one who chose not to marry you, and no one would believe me! You're Harry bloody Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and no one would ever believe that any girl would dump you!!"
"I- I'm sorry," was all he could say, helplessly, a little stunned at the depth of Ginny's anger. He hadn't thought-hadn't known-hadn't realized just what calling off their engagement would mean to most people. Because, now that Ginny mentioned it, he knew she was right. The few stories blaming him aside, the vast majority of the wizarding public persisted in thinking of him as the perfect storybook hero, the Boy Who Lived and Savior of the Wizarding World. Given that, it was natural, inevitable, that Ginny would be subjected to ridicule and insulting conjectures about why he'd decided not to marry her.
"So don't expect me to forgive you, Harry. I can't. I won't."
"Maybe… if I explained that it was my fault…" Harry ventured.
"No one would believe you either. They'd just think you were acting like the noble hero and taking the blame," Ginny shot back. "Just stop it! I can't forgive you and, frankly, I wish I'd never need to see you or hear your name again!"
And then she left, storming out of the kitchen, while her words still seemed to be ringing in the air.
Harry stared after her, feeling a little stunned and a lot dismayed, before he too left the kitchen. He took one step towards the family room and then stopped. He couldn't go in there. Not now, not yet. He couldn't face the Weasleys now, not when he still felt Ginny's words sting like the lash of a whip. He was too miserably conscious of what he'd done to her, to their daughter or their sister, to dare face them now. Instead, he turned and walked out the back door, not stopping until there was some distance between him and the house, although he didn't leave the yard.
The March night was cool and Harry almost welcomed the slight chill in the air, that rather seemed to match his mood.
He saw the light from the back door opening and knew who it was even before he turned to glance at the person who walked outside to stand beside him.
"It's getting a little stuffy inside so I wanted to get some air," Hermione explained.
"Right." Harry knew perfectly well that Hermione's reason for coming out had been to look for him, but he appreciated her delicacy and let the statement stand.
"It's been a nice evening," Hermione finally said, her tone just a shade too casual.
"Yes, it has been," he agreed readily, and even sincerely. It had been a nice evening, notwithstanding his little confrontation with Ginny and the awkwardness of the greetings when they'd arrived.
"Fleur is looking very well, not even showing at all."
"No, she's not," he agreed again. Ron had mentioned a few weeks ago that Bill and Fleur had told the Weasleys that Fleur was pregnant, and tonight was the first time either he or Hermione had seen Fleur since finding out.
"George says that Weasley's Wizard Wheezes is doing well."
He felt a rush of tenderness for Hermione at what she was doing, how she was deliberately keeping the conversation light. She had joined him outside out of concern and sympathy, but she was also giving him space, and time, to decide if he wanted to talk about it or not, and if not, her bland words told him that she wouldn't press.
Merlin, but he really did love her…
It was amazing that even after his talk with Ginny that left him flagellating himself with guilt, he could so soon be comforted, distracted, by the thought of Hermione. And yet, there it was. She managed to comfort him, somehow, by her very presence, and then she also showed her understanding in letting him choose whether or not to talk to her. She simply seemed to know when she should press him and when she shouldn't, knew when he needed a simple distraction with uncomplicated words.
And he loved that about her…
"So Ginny hates me," he finally blurted out, his tone conversational enough that anyone who didn't know him well would have thought he didn't care at all. He knew Hermione wouldn't think so, would be able to hear the truth in his voice, to say nothing of knowing him well enough to know how he would be feeling.
Hermione didn't respond immediately, and he could sense her slight hesitation before she ventured, "She doesn't hate you, Harry. She's angry at you; she might even think she hates you right now, but I don't think she really does."
His lips quirked into the ghost of a smile. "She only thinks she hates me? That's comforting," he said dryly.
She let out a brief, obliging laugh, but sobered quickly. "Seriously, Harry, give her some more time. I think it'll be easier for her to forgive you when she's happy with someone else." She paused and then added more quietly, "Sorry, should I not have said that?"
"If I was going to have issues with Ginny seeing someone else, I wouldn't have broken up with her," he reasoned. Which was true enough. But it was a little lowering, nonetheless, to think that he might be replaced so completely, especially to Ginny, who'd always worshipped him-and then he had to laugh silently to himself at his own conceit. Because it wasn't jealousy he felt at the thought of Ginny with anyone else; it was just a prod to his ego.
"Give her some more time," Hermione repeated.
"I don't know if even time will do it. She said… she said everyone now looks at her and wonders what was wrong with her to make me not want to marry her. That I've made people think she's some sort of freak." He let out a sound that was almost a bark of unamused laughter. "She's right, too. I didn't even think of that in my own selfishness, but I did humiliate her. And of course people will think it was me who ended the engagement, not her, everyone being so convinced that I'm some bloody perfect hero." He ended on a rather savage note. He hated the pedestal people seemed determined to place him on, hated that the damn pedestal had made this whole mess with Ginny that much worse, as if it weren't bad enough to begin with.
"Oh, Harry…" Hermione sighed and said nothing more.
He was glad that she didn't even try to tell him it wasn't true-but of course, she didn't. Not for Hermione were those comforting, placating lies people tended to tell in times like this. Hermione comforted, yes, but she didn't lie.
"And I don't know what to do, don't know what I can do to make it up to her. I don't even know if I can make it up to her at all and that's almost the worst thing of all. How do you get forgiveness for a wrong when you can't do anything to make amends?"
Hermione said nothing but he felt her sympathy and he found himself turning to her. "Can you think of anything, Hermione? You're better at this than I am. Can you think of something I can do to try to make it up to Ginny?"
"Harry… I don't know… I mean, I'll try but…" Hermione faltered, rather uncharacteristically, but then he hadn't asked a fair question. "Maybe… maybe if you went with the Weasleys to some public place, where people could see you." Her voice gained some confidence as she went. "Let people see that you still care about the Weasleys, that you still care about Ginny as a friend, and it should make them, at the very least, question their beliefs about who's to blame. Ginny won't need to do anything but show up and she'll have all her family there to support her, if she needs it."
"That's… brilliant, Hermione," he said honestly. A moment's thought was enough to tell him that. It would allow people to see him with the Weasleys and with Ginny, allow people to see him treat Ginny as the younger sister of his best friend that she was, and if Ginny only treated him with a fraction of the disdain which she'd shown him tonight, it would still appear as if she had really been the one to break off their engagement. It might revive some of those news stories about him that had made Hermione so angry, but he doubted the revival of those stories would last any longer than the original ones had. And it would be a fitting part of his attempt to make amends.
She relaxed into a slight smile. "I'm glad I could help."
He returned her smile. "You always do." Their eyes met and held and, for a moment, he felt the now-familiar tug of attraction before he quickly looked away. "Anyway, enough about me," he said, with manufactured briskness. "What about you? You haven't come here since you and Ron ended either."
"That was different, Harry. We both agreed to it, you know, so the Weasleys don't blame me for breaking Ron's heart or anything."
She spoke matter-of-factly, but Harry slanted a glance at her. "I wasn't only thinking about the Weasleys' reaction. How are you doing?" They had not talked about her breaking up with Ron at all; it had barely even been mentioned, just accepted as true. But he was still a little concerned; he knew Hermione too well to think that she was quite as unaffected as she acted, and as Ron believed she was.
Hermione lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal gesture. "I'm fine, Harry. I- I'm still rather sorry that Ron and I didn't work out but I know it was for the best." She essayed a smile. "How did that one song put it? 'Regrets, I've had a few, but then again, too few to mention'?"
He managed a smile. "And you did it your way."
She gave a brief laugh. "Yes, exactly. You don't have to worry about me, Harry. Ron and I are still best friends, and it's better this way. I'm happier this way."
"Okay."
Another brief silence fell, a dangerous silence as all these little silences between him and Hermione were now. Silences made him too aware of her, of his attraction to her. Silences led to temptation.
He forced a small laugh. "Listen to us. I'm beginning to think I should start a club."
She gave him a curious glance. "A club for what?"
"Something like an 'I used to date a Weasley' club, the Society of Weasley Ex-es," he said lightly.
She rewarded him with a laugh. "Now that's an idea."
"We could invite Lavendar and Dean."
"Don't forget Michael Corner," Hermione added. "And I'm sure we can find some ex-girlfriends of Bill's and Charlie's too."
"Perfect. I'll start planning the agenda for the first meeting immediately. I'm thinking of including a group discussion on the attractions of redheads and Weasleys," he deadpanned.
Their eyes met and they both gave in to their laughter.
"Oi, here you two are."
Ron's voice cut across their laughter and they both turned to see Ron standing in the doorway. "Come on inside. We're about to cut the cake."
"I'd hate to miss the cake," Harry agreed lightly, and then turned to follow Hermione inside.
Inside-to face Ginny again, and endure whatever awkwardness would linger in the atmosphere. But he found he felt… better, more confident. His talk with Hermione-and the suggestion she'd given him-was comforting. And he was suddenly quite sure that everything with his relationship to the Weasleys was going to be fine. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow. But eventually, things would be fine.
And he could begin to move on.
~To be continued…~