a/n Not much relating to the case in this chapter - it's more of an interlude dealing with the personal stuff. I hope you enjoy.
And thanks to everyone who has reviewed - it's like fuel for me and encourages me to keep going.
BF
Reunion
Harry tried to suppress his feeling of nervousness as he and Hermione made their way down the meandering lane that led from Ottery St. Catchpole to the Burrow. He was aware that both of them were still struggling to come to terms with the information discovered in Cho's diary and as a result conversation had been limited since their departure from the flat. He had removed everything he thought to be of value and deposited these items in Hermione's office, with the exception of the diary - Hermione had shrunk this down and had kept it on her person for safety. It was the only proof they had that something was amiss and he felt better for knowing that it was within easy reach.
Almost by unspoken agreement, both had decided to refrain from dealing with this latest development until after their lunch with the Weasleys. They had only briefly discussed it and even then it was only to confirm that nothing of the matter should be revealed for the time being. He thought that this meeting was going to be difficult enough without broaching the subject of Ron's murder.
The lane twisted round a small clump of trees and there it was; the Burrow in all its absurd glory. Despite his nerves, Harry could not help but smile as his eyes took in the familiar ramshackle cottage. He looked with fondness on the lopsided storeys and the five chimney pots; the cauldrons and old boots by the kitchen door and the garage where Arthur spent so much of his spare time trying to unravel the mysteries of the Muggle universe. He knew that this house had been a second home to him over the years and he could still feel the warmth and welcome that seemed to emanate from the old stone bricks and crooked windows. Some things went deeper than magic, he thought to himself.
Before he had gotten to within a hundred yards of the back door, it was suddenly swung open and a pile of redheads emerged into the summer sunshine. He glanced at Hermione who seemed to sense his uncertainty and who reached out and gave his hand a soft squeeze.
'It will be fine, Harry. They are glad you came back; this is your family, remember. There are no enemies here; only ghosts,' she added softly.
He regarded her for a moment, oblivious to the approaching Weasleys; aware only that his friend had been disturbed by the events of the morning. He began to question the wisdom of having her assist him when his attention was drawn towards a voice that was getting louder with each passing second.
'Harry! Oh, Harry! Welcome back!' exclaimed Ginny as she raced up to him and thrust her arms around him in a tight embrace. He stood totally rigid for a few moments before he finally drew his arms around the woman that he should have been married to by now. Ginny was crying into his chest - something he always had difficulty dealing with - but when he caught a look at her face he noticed that she was smiling. Her evident pleasure at seeing him did much to allay his fears.
'Hi, Ginny,' he finally managed, his voice hoarse. 'It's good to be back,' he added and surprised himself by realising that this was true. For all his bluster; for all his attempts to distance himself from magic, he realised now with certainty that this was where he belonged. Hermione was right; the Weasleys were his family, despite everything that had happened.
'I'm sorry,' he began. 'Sorry for…'
'Don't you dare, Harry Potter!' exclaimed Ginny as she drew herself out of the embrace to face him. 'You have nothing to apologise for so I don't want to hear another word about it. Understood?' she asked through her tears.
He could only nod mutely, glancing away and becoming aware that the rest of the Weasleys were drawing closer. It occurred to him that they must have let Ginny race ahead in order to give them some time together first. Well, we were engaged, he thought, suddenly realising what needed to be done. He glanced back to Ginny. 'We'll talk later, right?' he asked quietly.
Ginny nodded and stepped aside as Arthur approached. Harry held out his hand but was surprised when the older man walked straight past it and gripped him in a ferocious bear hug that lifted him from the ground, almost squeezing the air out of his lungs.
'Welcome back, Harry,' said Arthur, the emotion evident in his voice. He released his grip and held him by the shoulders as he looked straight into his eyes. 'We've missed you. We've all missed you; it's so good to see you again.' He seemed to sense Harry's unease and continued in a quieter voice. 'What's done is done, Harry. There will be no recriminations here; we're all just glad to have you back.'
Harry nodded his appreciation and fought back the tears that threatened to burst forth. He had often wondered just how much the Weasleys held him responsible for what had happened but the evident warmth and sincerity of Arthur and Ginny's welcome finally made him realise that he should never have left. He glanced at Hermione and saw that she was crying, but it was with a smile on her face that his best friend was watching the reunion.
He turned as Molly Weasley finally caught up with the others, pushing her way past Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Percy and George before smothering him in an embrace that made Arthur's seem like a childish cuddle. For once, she made no comment, content only to hold him like the long lost son that he knew she considered him. After what seemed like an age, she finally released her grip and stepped back to have a good look at him, taking in the changes - noting especially how he had filled out.
'Oh, Harry,' she began, tears in her eyes but a hint of amusement in her voice. 'Come inside for some lunch.' Her eyes twinkled through the tears. 'You're so thin,' she added softly, bringing smiles to everyone present as they realised the lie and the reason for saying it.
Harry couldn't speak; could only nod his acceptance at the welcome and allowed himself to be drawn into the house.
***********
Just over an hour later, Harry sat back in his chair and let out a contented sigh. He hadn't eaten such a fine meal in nearly a year and his stomach was alerting his brain of this fact. It had been a typical Molly Weasley extravaganza; dishes piled high with a variety of home made foods and he had been encouraged to place more and more in front of him. He reckoned he's had enough to feed a small army and he smiled sadly as he thought of just how much Ron would have enjoyed such a feast.
There had been awkwardness at first; when everyone had sat down there had been a strange formality to proceedings, almost as if everyone didn't know quite how to behave. As a result, the start of the meal had been conducted with excessive courtesy and decorum. He smiled to himself, recalling a phrase he had once heard; they were acting with the contrived politeness of those who had just fought a duel.
Thankfully, this hadn't lasted long; no table group that included Bill, Charlie and George Weasley could stand on ceremony for any length of time. It had been George who had broken the ice by casually asking him if he had "taken a little shine to Draco Malfoy". Why else, George had asked, would Harry have been so willing to help his former enemy? Bill had gone one further, suggesting that he had only taken the case on because his name had been out of the papers for more than three minutes.
He had played along and had glared at George and Bill for a moment before breaking into a smile. That had been the cue for everyone to join in the laughter. It wasn't that anything was particularly amusing; more that it was with a sense of relief that everyone present realised that they could laugh. After that, proceedings had taken on a more relaxed air.
Now as he sat back and tried to digest his lunch, he wondered how he had managed to survive without all of this to sustain him. He glanced across at Hermione and caught her watching him. He suppressed a smile; he had become aware that she had been keeping an eye on him since first arriving, almost as if she were protecting him from attack. He noticed the concern in her eyes and gave her an almost imperceptible, reassuring nod. I'm OK Thanks for caring.
He noticed the corners of her mouth turn up slightly and knew that she had understood his unspoken message. They held each others gaze for a moment before being interrupted by Ginny.
'So, Hermione,' she began. 'When were you planning on telling us this little titbit?' she asked, holding up the front page of the Prophet. 'Assistant to a Soul Thief? And you sat with us last night and never said a word!' she added, the amusement evident in her voice.
Hermione flushed. 'Well,' she began, 'I didn't…that is I couldn't…'
'I asked her not to say anything,' said Harry. All heads turned towards him, surprised at the interruption. He hadn't meant to sound so brusque but he was not enjoying Hermione's discomfort. He realised he had spoken sharply and moderated his tone. 'I didn't want anyone to know but somehow Rita found out. Don't blame Hermione for keeping secrets; it's my fault. We would have told you all today, but the Prophet beat us to it.'
'No problem, Harry,' said Charlie with a smile. 'So how's the case going? Learned anything juicy yet? Did Malfoy do it? C'mon; spill the beans.'
'Now, Charlie, we shouldn't be prying,' said Arthur. 'I'm sure Harry would rather keep what he knows confidential. We should not be noseying too much into this affair. There is enough speculation about it without you lot sticking your oars in.' He looked thoughtful for a moment. 'Harry? Now that we have all finished such a wonderful meal, would you mind if we had a quick word in private?' he asked as he got to his feet.
'Sure. No problem,' Harry replied, curious at the request. He stood and followed Arthur towards the living room catching the looks of interest on those remaining at the table. What could this be about?
On entering the living room, his eyes were immediately drawn to the clock on the wall. The arrows showed that the entire Weasley family were all "home" but he noticed with sadness that there were now only seven hands on the clock. Two were gone; those of Fred and Ron were no longer visible.
'They fell off,' explained Arthur in a soft voice as he followed Harry's gaze. Harry turned to the elder Weasley, noting the sadness in his eyes. 'The hands fell off when the boys died,' continued Arthur with a sigh. 'There's not a day that goes by that I don't think about them. They should both be alive today and enjoying their lives.' Arthur shook his head. 'Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better for us to stay out of the war - to stay out of everything.'
'You know that's not what Fred and Ron would have said. They would never have stopped fighting for what they believed in, even if they had known how it was going to turn out.'
Arthur regarded him for a moment. 'Thank you for saying that, Harry. As it happens, I know that to be true, but I can't help myself from wondering, if you know what I mean. Wondering about what could have - should have been.'
Harry nodded his understanding, knowing only too well what Arthur meant. He still wondered about how his life could have been different. If only my parents hadn't died; if only I hadn't been marked by Voldemort; if only I had been able to grow up in a world where those I loved weren't taken from me.
If only I hadn't lied to Ron when asked the one question that mattered.
If, if, if. He smiled suddenly; a twisted grin that hid the bitterness as he recalled the words of his old skipper in Peterhead. "It's no use dwelling on "ifs", Harry. "If" is something we cannot change. After all, if your Auntie had balls, she'd be your uncle."
It was a crude expression, but he understood fully the sentiment behind it. There was no use dwelling on what could have been; all a person ought to do was concentrate on what might yet be.
He watched as Arthur strode over to the cabinet next to the old wooden wireless and proceeded to pour out two glasses of firewhiskey. He gratefully took the offered glass and slumped onto the sofa. Arthur took the armchair facing him.
'Cheers, Harry. It's so good to have you home.'
He didn't reply; instead he saluted Arthur with his glass before taking a drink. Then he sat back and regarded the older man, a questioning look on his face.
'I don't really know where to begin,' said Arthur. 'So much has happened to us all in the past year that it is difficult to know where to start. I suppose I should begin by apologising for causing you to feel responsible for what happened to Ron.'
'There's no need. It was…'
'There is every need,' interrupted Arthur. 'You have always been considered a part of this family, Harry; and yet some of us turned on you when we needed to stick together. Molly and I lost a son; my children lost a sibling; Hermione lost her fiancé; but you, Harry; you lost a friend and brother both, did you not?'
Harry nodded, feeling miserable.
'We should have been there for you. We should all have been there for each other. When you left, it was like losing another son,' continued Arthur.
Harry stared into his glass. There was nothing he could say to this man that could adequately express the love and respect he had for him. Despite everything that had happened, Arthur Weasley contained not a hint of bitterness; only a deep sorrow and regret and a consideration for others that defied belief. 'I don't blame anyone, Arthur,' he finally managed. 'Everyone was so upset. I was still trying to deal with the guilt. I blamed myself for what happened - I still do.'
'Is this why you have taken on the Malfoy case?' asked Arthur.
Harry looked up at the older man, astonished. Arthur noticed the look.
'I may not be considered the sharpest tool in the box, Harry; but I do know a thing or two about our world. You think Malfoy's case might be connected to Ron's death, don't you?'
Harry could only nod his mute admission.
'I thought so,' continued Arthur. He stood up and began to pace the room. 'This is what I wanted to speak to you about. I wanted to warn you.'
'Warn me?'
'Yes. You don't think Malfoy did it, do you?'
'No, I don't.'
'I thought as much,' replied Arthur. He stopped pacing and looked directly at Harry. 'If you are correct then you need to watch your step. You are dealing with someone powerful and ruthless enough to kill a Chang, frame a Malfoy and possibly murder Ron - don't assume that you will be immune from attack too.' He sighed. 'I know that many people don't have a high opinion of me, but I do understand a lot more than people think. Possibly the only benefit of getting older is that one also gets wiser. I have been working for the Ministry for over thirty years and in that time I have learned a thing or two about human nature. Something is going on at the moment; there is an atmosphere in that building that does not bode well. Watch your step.'
'An atmosphere? Have you heard anything?'
'Nothing concrete, but my antenna is twitching. I have never sought power - all I wanted to do was to make a difference - but there are those within the Ministry who would crawl over the bodies of their own children to gain office. Kingsley is an astute man but he is not a politician. I think he may be vulnerable and he doesn't even realise it. Remember; what happened five years ago left a lot of scars; there is still a lot of scores to be settled and I fear that this is what is happening right now. Please be careful.'
Harry didn't know what to say to this. It had not occurred to him that he might be in danger. And Hermione, he suddenly realised with a chill.
Arthur smiled, as if reading his thoughts. 'Don't cut her loose, Harry. I'm glad Hermione is helping you; she was always good at looking after you. You need her - you have always needed her. And the change in her since your return has been a source of joy to me. You need each other and the sooner you realise this, the better. Don't let her slip out of your grasp again.'
Harry regarded him in confusion. 'Slip out of my grasp?'
Arthur smiled; a strangely sad smile that conveyed almost everything that he had been through over the years. 'Yes; "slip out of your grasp." You let her go once, Harry; I would recommend that you do not do so again - it would be like cutting one of your own limbs off.'
'Again? But Ginny…'
'Ginny is my only daughter and I love her more than life itself, but we both know she was never the one for you.'
Harry was dumbfounded. 'How?...What?...'
'I told you I knew a thing or two about human nature didn't I? I watched you grow up, Harry. I watched you develop into the fine young man you have become. Please do not insult me by suggesting that I did not notice where your true affections lie.'
'But you never said a word! I was engaged to your daughter. Ron was going to marry Hermione! Why didn't you say anything?'
'What was I supposed to say? That I thought you were all making a mistake? No; Ron loved Hermione and Ginny loved you. In a way it was a perfect outcome; it would mean that I could keep my family together. But life doesn't work that way, does it, Harry?' This last question was said as a challenge.
He held Arthur's gaze for what seemed like an eternity. Finally he looked away. 'No,' he replied. 'Life doesn't work that way,' he added quietly.
Arthur let the silence stretch out after this revelation, content to stroll over to the cabinet for the bottle of firewhisky and refill the glasses before sitting down again. He mutely toasted Harry before taking a drink and despite himself, Harry smiled. He was amazed that he was having this conversation with his fiancée's father. He had never had "the talk", not having had a father figure to step into the hole left by his dad and then Sirius. That it should be Arthur Weasley to fill this role was strange to say the least in view of the fact that he had been engaged to this man's daughter. But then he considered Arthur's kindness; his humanity and compassion and realised that it wasn't so strange after all.
'So what do I do?' he finally asked.
Arthur took his time before replying. 'I'm no expert, Harry, but I do recall the advice of someone I knew that had a lot more wisdom than me.'
'What was that?'
'That you should always do what is right rather than what is easy.'
Harry smiled at the memory but then considered the words. What was right in this situation? What was easy? He found to his discomfort that he wasn't particularly sure about either at the moment.
***********
Hermione sat at the kitchen table and tried to engage herself in the conversation despite the fact that her thoughts were concentrated on what was going on in the next room. She was intensely curious about what Arthur wanted to speak to Harry about and as a result she was not giving her hosts the attention they deserved. No one seemed particularly bothered about this; indeed, the Weasleys seemed to appreciate her predicament and had deliberately kept the chatter light and trivial. Only Ginny seemed as preoccupied as she was herself.
She had watched Harry closely during the meal, sensing his initial discomfort and then noticing him becoming more at ease with himself. She had been worried that he might withdraw back into his shell but the welcoming embrace of the Weasleys seemed to have done the trick and Harry had been more like his old self than she could remember. When he had glanced over and caught her looking at him, his reassuring nod had done wonders to allay her own sense of anxiety and she had allowed herself to relax and to enjoy herself.
And then Arthur had asked to speak to Harry alone. She loved Arthur; loved his kindness and compassion; his simple love of all things Muggle and the fierce protectiveness he had for his family. She didn't know if he was cut out to deal with Harry at the moment though and she earnestly hoped that he didn't put his foot in it.
She glanced across at Ginny and felt a sudden surge of sympathy for her friend. Harry would speak to Ginny soon and when he did, her friend's dreams would be shattered. She knew that Ginny had almost resigned herself to losing Harry after what had happened, but she was also aware that her friend still clung on to the faint hope that their relationship could be redeemed. She knew better; Harry's brutal words on Tottenham Court Road left no room for doubt in the matter.
She still wasn't sure why this didn't sadden her more than she once thought it would. She was sad for her friend, but a part of her - if she was honest with herself - was relieved that Harry had declared his relationship with Ginny to be over. She didn't want to examine too closely why this should be so; she feared the answer and so was content to let it lie.
For the moment anyway.
She glanced up as the living room door opened and Arthur strode into the room, his face an inscrutable mask. He walked over to Ginny and whispered something in her ear - she didn't catch what was said but could guess as her friend stood with a nervous look on her face and made her way into the living room, closing the door quietly behind her. She turned to the others and noticed that all had a grim look on their faces. Arthur spotted it too and felt moved to speak.
'Remember,' he began softly, 'what goes on in there is between Ginny and Harry. Stay out of it and don't be too hard on Harry if things don't work out.' For some reason, she noticed, Arthur glanced in her direction before he spoke again. 'We can't always get what we want in life; what is important is that we support one another when things go wrong. Understood?'
She noticed the subdued nods of assent that the others gave before she turned her attention to the living room door. She suddenly felt a surge of sadness and regret overwhelm her as she considered what was being said in that room and she remembered what they once had, the four of them. Arthur's words rang in her head as she contemplated what might have been.
We can't always get what we want.
***********
On the other side of the door, Harry stood and regarded his former fiancée in silence, noticing how nervous she looked as she twiddled her fingers in front of her. This just about summed up how he was feeling at the moment too - he had been dreading this meeting, but realised that it was perhaps a blessing to be in a position to finally come to terms with what he had become. The road to this point had been started with the best of intentions but he now knew that he was about to hurt a woman he loved.
Love? Yes; I did love Ginny; and once I was in love with her too. Or at least I thought I was in love with her and that's what counts, isn't it? He now knew that this was no longer true. It was not that what she had said to him after the verdict at Ron's hearing had changed his opinion of her; rather it was that the events of the past year had finally made him come to terms with the man he had become and the true calling of his heart.
After a pause that seemed interminable, Ginny finally spoke.
'Harry? I'm sorry for what I said to you last year. I was…'
'Don't,' interrupted Harry, his hand held up. 'Please don't, Ginny. There is no need to rake over old ground. I know you didn't mean anything by it.'
'I still said it though,' she replied. 'I just want you to know that I don't blame you for what happened to Ron. No one does, Harry.'
'I know.'
They stood in silence and Ginny was unsure how to proceed. There was a restlessness about Harry; a nervousness that seemed alien to him. Then she understood. She decided to make this easier for him. She reached down the front of her blouse and pulled out the chain that hung around her neck. Harry watched curiously as she removed it and held it out to him. It was then that he realised; at the end of the chain hung a ring. The ring he had given to her when she had accepted his proposal of marriage. He felt a sudden surge of sadness threaten to overwhelm him.
'I don't suppose I'll need this, will I?' she asked, trying to keep her tone light and battling to keep the tears from her eyes. 'I took it off after you left but I couldn't bring myself to throw it away. I suppose I hoped that you might want me to wear it again.'
Harry stood still for a long time knowing that his life had reached a crossroads. This ring was a symbol of the life he'd once had and he knew that if he accepted it back he was shutting the door on that previous existence forever. This ring symbolised the boy he once was; the boy who had sacrificed his own needs for the benefit of his friends and it was with a touch of regret that he realised that this boy had gone; now there was only the man he had become and that man was not as willing to be so selfless. After a long moment, he finally reached out and accepted the ring, examining it as he held it in the palm of his hand. To his surprise, he felt a surge of relief; relief in the knowledge that he no longer had to hide behind the mask that he had so diligently constructed over the years. He no longer had to live the lie. After a few moments, he looked up.
'I'm sorry, Ginny. Truly sorry. I didn't want to cause any more hurt.'
'Too late,' whispered Ginny through her tears, attempting to force levity into a voice that threatened to break. She looked away. 'It's always been too late for us, Harry, right from the start. Maybe we were not fated to be together.'
'Don't ever say that!' said Harry, a little too loudly. 'Don't ever think that,' he added in a quieter tone. 'We had some good times, you and I. Had things not…happened as they did then who knows where we might have gone. But I'm sorry, Ginny. I can't give you what you want. I'm not the man I was and I don't think it would be fair to either of us to pretend otherwise.'
He watched the tears fall freely down Ginny's face and noticed how she defiantly ignored them. It occurred to him at that moment just how beautiful she was but he knew that this fierce beauty was not enough; that despite the fact she was a wonderful woman and that he loved her, after a fashion, Ginny Weasley would never be enough for him. He was not in love with her.
'I thought that this would happen if you ever returned,' began Ginny. 'In some ways I almost wish you had stayed away, Harry. At least then I would still have my dreams.' She looked down at her feet. 'I think that I knew deep down that we were finished; that we could never pick up the pieces after what happened.' She lifted her head to face him, her eyes boring straight into him. 'But I want you to know one thing, Harry; I want you to know that you will always be welcome, wherever I am. I want you to stay in my life. You mean too much to me to sever things completely.'
'Thank you,' he replied in a small voice. He looked at the floor, unable to face her at that moment. He felt tears smart at his own eyes and wondered at the grace and dignity that his friend was displaying. Friend? Yes; she would always be that, but nothing more.
'I'm going to leave now, Harry. I hope you will understand if I go up to my room until you go. I…don't think I will be able to act as if nothing has happened.'
'No! I should be the one to leave! This is your home, Ginny. I will go right now.'
She shook her head. 'This is your home too; don't ever forget that. Mum and dad are so happy to have you back. Stay a little longer, for their sake.'
Harry regarded her gratefully; aware of what this moment was costing her. He couldn't find the words to do her justice so instead he merely nodded. He was then surprised as Ginny stepped forward and embraced him. This time he didn't flinch or stand stiff; this time he returned the gesture in kind.
'Take care, Harry,' she whispered, giving him a soft kiss on the cheek. 'I'll see you later.'
He kept his back to her as she slipped out of the room and it was only when he heard the door close behind him that he slumped onto the chair by the fire. He sat there, his head down, and contemplated the ring in his hand and everything that it had now come to symbolise.
After a few minutes, he decided that he needed some fresh air.
***********
Hermione looked up as the living room door opened and Ginny strode out, her head down in order to hide the tears in her eyes. She quickly made her way upstairs leaving the others at the table to share knowing - and sad - looks with one another. Molly and Fleur exchanged a particularly telling glance and the two women headed upstairs after Ginny in order to console her.
Hermione was torn; Ginny was her best female friend and right now she needed comfort and sympathy. But Harry was her best friend and he too would be upset by the break up of an engagement that had once promised so much. She sighed deeply, wondering why it was that their lives seemed to be so complicated.
Haven't we done enough? She raged. Haven't we given enough already?
She decided to wait a few minutes in order to give Harry some time alone in order to process what had just occurred. This could not be easy for him; Ginny had been - at least to her knowledge - his first and only lover and the disintegration of the relationship seemed like one more unfair burden that her friend had to bear. She only hoped that it would not destroy the fragile bridge that Harry had managed to build back to their world.
She glanced at her watch, deciding that she had given him enough time with his thoughts. Standing and casting an almost apologetic look at the remaining Weasleys, she strode over to the living room and opened the door.
The room was empty.
Fighting a sudden surge of panic, she cast her eyes around the room as she tried to work out where Harry had gone. He must have Apparated! Damn it! Where would he have gone?
Just as the feeling of panic threatened to overwhelm her she glanced out of the window and to her relief she saw him standing under one of the trees in the orchard. She knew the significance of the spot and it was with a feeling of sadness that she quickly made her way out of the back door and headed towards him. She realised that she was running and forced herself to slow down as she approached. He looked so lost as he stood there and it was with a feeling of trepidation that she finally reached him and stood by his side. Following the line of his gaze, she cast her own eyes on the two, small stones that were placed at the foot of the tree; dedication stones that marked the lives of Fred and Ron Weasley.
'Are you OK, Harry?' she asked. 'I saw Ginny and she seemed upset…'
'She will be. We broke up.'
Hermione didn't react immediately to the expected news. 'I thought as much,' she finally replied. 'Will you be all right?'
He nodded, but did not reply. Instead, they remained standing in silence for some time before Harry finally spoke again.
'I never realised that Ron had been buried here,' he said softly. 'I should have been here for that.'
'There was no burial,' she replied, wondering how to break this to him. She noticed him turn to look at her questioningly. 'There was nothing to bury,' she added in a small voice. She saw the pain in his eyes at this revelation before he turned away. 'They had a memorial service for him,' she continued. 'Arthur wanted a stone to mark his life and decided that it belonged next to Fred.' She cast her eyes round the orchard. 'He said that the boys had loved coming here to play Quidditch when they were little and so it was only fitting that they should be remembered together in a place where they had been happy. It's a beautiful spot.'
'It is,' replied Harry hoarsely.
They stood for a few more minutes in silence before she decided to speak again.
'Harry? Can I ask you something?' She noticed him look at her and his expression seemed to suggest that he knew what was coming. She ploughed on. 'When Voldemort cursed you; when you…died; what was it like? Will Ron be happy where he is?'
She watched him consider her question for a long time as he gazed at the stones. This was something they had never discussed in detail, despite their closeness. Finally he answered.
'I can't really answer that, Hermione. You see, I never went "on". I was kind of in limbo - neither in this world or the next. Dumbledore seemed happy enough though and it is reassuring to know that there is something else, even if I don't know what it is.' He paused for a moment, then smiled. 'Wherever Ron is, I'm sure he's happy. He's probably sitting somewhere right now, a butterbeer in one hand, a half eaten chicken leg in the other and he's probably calling me out for being such an arse the past year.'
She matched his mood. 'That sounds like the kind of thing he would do,' she said with a smile of her own. 'I think he was happy enough here, though.'
'He was,' replied Harry. 'And he deserved to be after everything he went through with us. He was a good man - the best. He was a lucky man too; he had a wonderful family and he had you. A man couldn't ask for anything more.' He frowned. 'Sometimes I think he never fully appreciated what he had, but I reckon that he finally came to realise how lucky he was before he died.'
'I think that's true,' she replied. 'He was always a bit insecure; always feared that he wasn't living up to his brothers. Or to you,' she added.
'Me?'
'Yes; you. He loved you, Harry, but when we were younger I think he felt that he was in your shadow a bit. You do cast a long one,' she added with a smile. She paused, considering whether to reveal something she had never told him before. 'When I destroyed the Horcrux in the chamber, he got quite upset at what happened.'
'Oh?' said Harry, a feeling of dread forming in his stomach. He emphatically did not want to discuss what had occurred when the Horcruxes were destroyed. 'Why?'
'Because when I first struck the cup with the Basilisk fang, a spirit Riddle formed and spoke to us - to me.'
'What did it say?'
'It wasn't so much what it said; it was more what it sensed if you know what I mean. It knew I wanted to destroy it so it tried to stop me by playing on my deepest fear. I don't know how it managed it.'
'So what happened then?' asked Harry, scarcely able to breathe. They had never discussed this before.
'It showed me you lying dead,' she replied in a small voice. 'It told me that you were going to die and that there was nothing I could do about it. It was horrible - it took all of my willpower to ignore it and stab it again with the fang. Later on, when Hagrid carried you back to the castle, I thought that you were dead.' She shook her head. 'It was as if the Horcrux had been correct. A part of me died when I saw you like that.'
Harry took a moment to digest this, never having fully appreciated what his friend had gone through that night. 'So why was Ron upset?'
'Because it was you that the Horcrux portrayed as dead - not him. He…took this quite badly at first, until I told him that I was more worried about you because you were in more danger than the rest of us. After that I think he was always a bit worried that you would overshadow our relationship too. It wasn't until you and Ginny got engaged that he finally seemed to gain confidence.' She grimaced. 'If he were still alive he'd probably have a fit now that you two have broken up.' She paused, turning to face him. 'Did he never tell you any of this?'
'What do you think?' asked Harry flatly.
'No, I suppose not,' she replied. 'He never did speak much on these matters - he never even told me what happened with the Horcrux he destroyed.' Her tone was a question but Harry studiously ignored her comment. She sighed, knowing that some walls might never be breached. 'Anyway, I think he had finally come to realise that you hated the attention; that you wanted what he had - you know; a close family and such. It was only then that he truly started to be his own man.'
Silence descended once more on them as each dwelled on what had been revealed. There was peace to be found here; it was a beautiful spot and in the afternoon sunshine one could almost forget the troubles of the world. She noticed that Harry had a faraway look on his face, almost as if his mind was elsewhere, which was hardly surprising in light of what they had discussed.
'A penny for them,' she said quietly.
He finally turned to face her, deciding how to respond. 'I'm just trying to work something out. I'm trying to make a decision and I am wondering what Ron would have wanted me to do.'
'What? Is it about the case?'
Harry shook his head. 'No; it's something Arthur said to me earlier. I'm just trying to work out the difference between what is easy and what is right. Sometimes I think that for certain decisions, neither way is easy and so it is difficult to recognise what is actually right.'
'Can you tell me what it is?'
He turned to look straight into her eyes and Hermione felt the intensity of his gaze. 'Not yet,' he replied. 'When I decide, you'll be the first to know.'
He turned back to face the stones and stretched out his hand towards her. Surprised, she placed her own hand in his and they stood in companionable silence for some time.
Eventually, Harry broke the silence.
'Thanks,' he said quietly.
'What for?'
'For not giving up on me,' he whispered.
Hermione didn't respond. Instead, she squeezed his hand and allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction.
She was beginning to get her friend back.