Ron grinned at Harry when he said it, but the sudden realization hit Harry like a punch to the gut.
He was homeless.
Realistically, he knew that he’d always have a spot at the Weasleys’, there for the asking, but the fact remained that he was truly on his own. He really didn’t belong anywhere. Not that he’d ever really belonged at the Dursleys, either, but at least it was an address. A place to hang his hat, as it were.
As if sensing his sudden unease, Ginny placed her warm hand on Harry’s forearm and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Don’t worry, Harry," she whispered. "You’ll always belong here, no matter what else has happened."
Harry raised his eyes to meet hers and was nearly lost in their depth. How did she know? She’d always been able to see through whatever it was he was feeling and get to the heart of things.
Damn, this will be harder than I’d even anticipated.
He nodded slightly and saw the brief flash of pain in her eyes before she covered it up again. Smiling brightly, she turned her attention to Hermione and began chatting about bridesmaid dresses. Her dismissal allowed Harry to breathe again, but the pit he felt in his stomach would make eating impossible. He felt nauseous and needed to regroup. He hated feeling so wrong-footed and uncertain about everything.
"Of course, I suppose you could always go to Grimmauld Place," Ron said, oblivious to the startled and aggravated looks he was receiving from the rest of his family. "You do own that now, don’t you, Harry?"
Harry’s insides went cold. He’d forgotten about Grimmauld Place, but it would never be home. "Yeah," he said, finally finding his voice. "I’m going to go put my trunk up in your room. I’ll take yours up, too."
He grabbed all the shrunken trunks from Hermione and nearly sprinted from the room. He knew they’d all be talking about him, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t stay there with her so close for one minute longer. He needed to breathe. And he’d thought it was bad at the Dursleys’. Somehow, he suspected that this would be the longest week of his life.
It wasn’t until he’d reached the brightness of Ron’s orange room that he remembered he couldn’t use magic to enlarge the trunks. He left both Ron and Hermione’s miniature trunks on Ron’s bed and sat down on the camp bed with his own. He’d stayed in Fred and George’s old room when he was here last summer, but he suspected that with so many people staying at the Burrow for the wedding, he’d be bunking with Ron. That’s what he’d done last Christmas when they’d had a crowd.
He stretched out on the camp bed and let his thoughts drift to the previous Christmas. Things had been so much simpler then. He grinned as he remembered the sweetheart necklace that Lavender had sent to Ron. He wondered what his friend had done with it. Chucked it out the window of the Gryffindor dormitory, most likely.
He relaxed and allowed his mind to wander as he drifted off to sleep. He really hadn’t slept well the previous night and was feeling quite drained. He wasn’t certain how long he’d dozed, but he awoke to Hermione sitting on his bed, making a "Harumff" sound.
Harry jerked and looked around wildly.
"Sorry, Harry," Hermione said. "Mrs. Weasley put Ron to work with the twins, but I couldn’t stand listening to them for one more minute. They can be so insufferably condescending sometimes."
Harry shook his head and tried to clear it. "Yeah," he mumbled.
"Are you all right?" Hermione asked, glancing at him from the corner of her eye.
Harry shrugged.
"Ginny looks good," Hermione ventured, letting her sentence hang in the open. Harry refused to respond.
Hermione huffed but continued prodding. "Fleur is driving her crazy with these wedding plans. Ginny says she’s done nothing but attend engagements and make plans for this wedding and will be just as happy when it’s over and done. She hates the dress robes she has to wear. Says they’re made for a ten-year old. I’m supposed to help her with them tonight."
Harry fought the smile that threatened to crack his impassive expression. He could just imagine Ginny’s tirades against wearing anything that would make her look younger than she was. She hated being treated like a child.
"Why are you telling me this, Hermione?" he asked.
Hermione shrugged. "I thought you’d want to know, since you avoided talking with her at all."
Harry frowned. "I-I- I didn’t avoid talking…I just–"
"Just what?"
"I just didn’t know what to say," Harry whispered.
Hermione smiled sadly. "She misses you, Harry, and I know you miss her. No matter how well you think you’re hiding it."
Harry swallowed against the thickness in his throat. "It’s even harder than I thought it would be."
"Harry, if Professor Dumbledore said this great power you possess is love, do you really think it’s a good idea to be pushing her away?" Hermione asked, picking at a loose thread on the blanket on Harry’s bed.
Harry stiffened, closing off his emotions. "It has to be this way, Hermione. I won’t put her in danger."
"She’s already in danger, Harry. We all are. Didn’t you see the hands on that clock downstairs? Ginny’s hand is still pointed to Mortal Peril, whether you’re with her or not. I think she could help us."
"No."
"Harry– "
"Don’t push it, Hermione. I can’t let her die because of me, and I don’t want her to have to watch if it’s me that’s going to go," Harry said, refusing too look at her.
"Don’t say that," Hermione hissed, grabbing him around the waist and hugging him fiercely. "Don’t even think it. We can’t lose you, Harry."
"Don’t be stupid, Hermione," Harry said, finally looking at her directly. "We both know it’s a very real possibility. Look at what happened to Dumbledore’s hand while he was after these things. This isn’t a game, and I’m not nearly the wizard he was. It’s more than likely I’m going to die, but so help me God, I’m taking him with me when I do."
"Don’t!" Hermione pleaded, her voice choked.
"Hermione," Harry said gently, hating the tears that were streaming down her cheeks. He never did well with crying girls. "Let’s just take this one step at a time. It’s the only way I’m able to keep going forward. Ginny is a distraction — a very pleasant distraction — that I can’t afford."
"Then you at least enjoy yourself at this wedding. Dance with her, drink and be merry and have a good snog if that’s what you want to do," Hermione said, crossing her arms across her chest.
"Hermione!"
"What?"
"I can’t believe you, of all people, just said that," Harry replied, unable to contain his laughter.
She shrugged. "If you don’t, you’ll have no right to complain if someone else does."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked warily. The beast within his chest that had curled up in misery at the end of term suddenly raised its head and breathed fire.
"Well, Ginny told me that the two groomsmen are Charlie and Fleur’s cousin, Jean-Luc. Fleur has been making no secret of the fact that she wants to pair Ginny up with Jean-Luc," Hermione said, her nose slightly in the air.
"What? What does Ginny think about this?" Harry asked indignantly. His monster was snarling. No prancing Frenchman was getting anywhere near his Ginny without her permission.
Unless…Harry’s insides suddenly went cold. What if Ginny wanted the attention? He felt the beast whimper and curl its tail inward.
"Oh, Harry. You know Ginny. She won’t be pushed into doing anything she doesn’t want to do, especially by Fleur. But she’s hurting, too, and…well…Ginny has been known to be spiteful on occasion," Hermione said, somewhat apologetically.
Harry’s heart constricted so tightly that he thought he might asphyxiate himself. He clenched his fists, knowing there was nothing he could do. He’d brought this on himself, and if he thought a girl like Ginny wouldn’t have a string of other suitors waiting in line, then he was being foolish. He felt as if all the air had been let out of his wings.
Harry shut his eyes, his head slumping forward.
"It gets worse," Hermione said, shifting as she made herself more comfortable.
He opened his eyes wearily. "How could it possibly get any worse, Hermione? Unless you’re about to tell me there is some wizarding custom that all the attendants in a bridal party have to snog each other in front of witnesses, as well."
Hermione sniggered. "Actually, this concerns you. Ginny said that Fleur plans on having you entertain Gabrielle during the reception."
Harry blinked several times, nonplussed. "Huh?"
"You know, her little sister?"
"I know who she is Hermione, but isn’t she around ten?" Harry asked.
"Eleven, actually. I wonder if she’ll be starting at Beauxbatons in September. I read that other wizarding schools–"
"Hermione!"
"What? Oh…right, Gabrielle."
"Eleven. Do I really come off as being that desperate?" Harry asked, cringing.
Hermione giggled. "Of course not, Harry, but evidently Gabrielle has had a major crush on you since the Second Task. Fleur wants to make her dream come true by having you be her dance partner."
"Great. I don’t suppose it occurred to her to ask me how I felt about this?" Harry asked, feeling nettled
"You know how it is with Fleur. How other people feel about anything has never been one of her top priorities," Hermione said, sniffling slightly.
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