Chapter 13: Gifts and Memories
The last few days leading up to Christmas were a flurry of activity as the Burrow’s occupants prepared for the upcoming holiday. Harry spent hours helping the rest of the family charm tiny glowing fairies into place around the house and Christmas tree, hanging garlands and wreaths, working out just the right amount of power to put into the Enchanted Snow Charm, and a host of other things to make the house as festive as possible. Molly had been baking all week, and the constant smell of pies and puddings meant everyone’s mouths were watering almost ‘round the clock.
Most of Harry’s free time during those few days was spent analyzing his memories inside his Pensieve. He’d started with his final battle with Voldemort in the Department of Mysteries, and moved from there to other significant events in his life. He watched himself instinctively use magic for self-protection while working as a police officer, relived the terror of watching Voldemort return to power at the end of his fourth year at Hogwarts, felt his own satisfaction at finally joining the police force and being able to move out on his own, and also remembered his grief and rage as his godfather, Sirius Black, was killed before his eyes. Late into the night he reviewed his memories, good and bad alike, until finally, on Christmas Eve, he could no longer put off examining the ones he had been both looking forward to and dreading more than any others.
Steeling his resolve, Harry looked down into the stone basin to see his own smiling face swirling around in its depths. “These are happy memories,” he reminded himself in a tense whisper. “I can handle this.” And before he had time to back down yet again, he plunged forward into the Pensieve.
He landed in the Burrow about eighteen years in the past, and watched himself interacting with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny during the summer before his sixth year at Hogwarts. He forced himself to concentrate on what he had been feeling at the time, and discovered that even then he had begun feeling something very subtle that seemed to draw him to his future wife. As his memories of their interactions that summer unfolded, the feeling only intensified until, when they left for school on the Hogwarts Express, he was deeply disappointed when she decided to sit with her boyfriend instead of with him.
For hours, Harry relived his growing frustration with his budding feelings for Ginny over the course of his sixth year. He paid particular attention to the incident when he and Ron had caught Ginny snogging Dean Thomas after Quidditch practice one day. The others’ emotions were easy enough to read from their expressions: Ron and Ginny were both furious, while Dean was embarrassed and a bit frightened of Ron’s anger. Harry only spared them a cursory glance however, before closing his eyes and focusing on remembering how he had felt at that moment. Immediately, the feeling that something large and scaly had burst to life inside his chest overcame him. He was filled with an intense desire to hex Dean out of the way and take his place in Ginny’s arms. In fact, he probably would have done so if not for his fear of both Weasley siblings’ wrath.
When the memory ended, he was breathing heavily, and it took some effort to calm down enough to watch the next few memories of encounters with Ginny over the next several months. When he found himself nervously approaching the Gryffindor common room, however, he grinned; he knew very well what was coming.
The Fat Lady’s portrait swung open, and Harry was assaulted by the noise of an extremely loud party as his Housemates pulled him inside. Jubilation washed over him as he watched Ron dancing around, waving the Quidditch Cup. And then Ginny was running toward him - her arms were around his neck, and his were around her waist - and then he was kissing her, as the creature in his chest roared triumphantly. Relief, hope, happiness, protectiveness, and something he couldn’t quite identify flooded his senses; the effect was so overpowering that he had to repeat the memory three more times before he was able to absorb it all and recognize that unidentified feeling. It was love.
Over the course of the next several memories, Harry could feel his love for Ginny increase with each passing day. He wanted to punch himself in the face when he broke up with her at Dumbledore’s funeral, and he nearly cried with relief when she convinced him to take her back a month later.
When he finally arrived at the memory of their wedding, Harry was exhausted, but he was determined to get through all of these memories tonight.
The small chapel seemed empty, despite the size of Ginny’s family. Harry caught sight of Molly sitting in the center of the front row, in the midst of all six of her sons (Percy having reconciled with his family by this point). Fleur sat close to Bill, little Angelique cuddled comfortably in her lap. A few seats away, Hermione sat clutching Ron’s hand, with Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks next to her on the end of the row. The remainder of the pews were totally unoccupied.
Harry’s nervous excitement was obvious by the look on his face, but it went far beyond that which is felt by most grooms. He knew that this might well be his last night in the land of the living - the following evening, he would be trying to lure Voldemort into the Department of Mysteries - so he felt an added sense of urgency.
The moment Ginny appeared in the double doors at the back of the chapel, both memory-Harry and observer-Harry felt their breath catch. Her pure white gown seemed to shine with an inner light (a small, detached corner of Harry’s mind realized that that might well be the case, but he was too distracted to realize it at the time), and her long red hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back, only partially obscured by a sheer veil. As the organ music began to play she seemed to glide forward down the aisle, led by her father, and Harry began breathing again - very rapidly.
The trip to the front of the chapel, where Harry and the officiating Minister stood waiting, somehow seemed to take both an eternity and an instant. Arthur Weasley’s eyes were bright with unshed tears as he gently placed his daughter’s hands in Harry’s and lifted her veil. The sight of her radiant face caused both Harrys to catch their breath once again, and nearly made even the one who was just observing miss Arthur’s whispered, “We’re so proud of both of you.”
The ceremony itself was a blur, but that didn’t really matter to Harry; all that really mattered were the emotions flowing over and through him. He was loved - he belonged - for some incomprehensible reason, the beautiful and amazing woman in front of him had decided that he was worth any risk. And he loved her with all his heart, more than he had ever dreamed possible.
The small party back at the Burrow was a joyous occasion, and no one was thoughtless enough to dampen the mood by mentioning the plan for the following day. Tomorrow would bring whatever it would, but tonight was for celebrating love and life. Around nine o’clock, when Harry saw himself and Ginny retreat into her bedroom and begin performing several locking and privacy charms, he forced himself forward into the next memory. There were a few things that would be far too awkward to watch from a third person perspective, and his wedding night was at the top of that list.
The next memory he watched was his next one-on-one encounter with Ginny, nearly fifteen years later, and the hurt in her eyes as he first pushed her away and then fled from her presence made him wince. From there, he continued on to several more post-memory-loss encounters, stopping at the end of the summer and rising, mentally and emotionally exhausted, out of the Pensieve’s depths.
After carefully returning each memory to his temple, Harry sank onto his bed, the thoughts and feelings he had relived repeating and swirling together in his mind. His feelings toward Ginny were still somewhat conflicted - part of him knew her as an attractive friend while another part was hopelessly in love with her, but for the first time since regaining his lost memory, he understood that they were both parts of the same whole. There was truly only one Harry Potter with one mind and one heart, and if his feelings were conflicted, the conflict could be resolved. With these thoughts, as well as his plans for the morrow, dancing through his mind, Harry finally drifted off to sleep.
Something was tickling Harry’s cheek, and he reflexively swatted at it with his hand. He missed, but whatever it was went away, so he settled back into his peaceful dreaming. A moment later, the tickling sensation began on his other cheek, bringing him slowly awake. As he realized what was happening, his hand shot out again, higher this time, and caught someone else’s hand retreating away from his face.
“Caught you!” he exclaimed, looking up to see a laughing Ginny with a lock of her long hair in her hand.
“Happy Christmas,” she said quietly.
“Happy Christmas,” he smiled. “It’s been far too long since I had anyone to share this holiday with.”
“Well, then get yourself downstairs and start sharing it with us!” she laughed, pulling her hand out of his and getting to her feet. Harry jumped out of bed, threw on his dressing gown over his pyjamas, and hurried down the stairs after her.
“There he is!” Ron shouted as Harry came into view at the bottom of the staircase. “How can you sleep in on Christmas?” Harry looked around in awe at the living room, which was packed full despite having had its capacity magically increased. Arthur and Molly sat on a conjured loveseat, surrounded by all seven of their children, plus in-laws and grandchildren; there were nearly thirty people in all.
“Am I the last one?” Harry asked awkwardly.
“Well, you wouldn’t have been if Mum had let us wake you up when we first got here,” called Fred.
“She only let Ginny go up to get you after Charlie showed up,” George added.
“Well, if we’re all here now, then what’re we waiting for?” Harry exclaimed. He was met with a general cheer, especially from the younger children, and soon presents were being passed around and torn open amid shouts of thanks and exclamations of awe.
Harry grinned as he opened a new set of polished wooden chessmen from his daughter. “Lily!” he called, but the cacophony was too loud for her to hear him. Snatching up a large scrap of wrapping paper, he crumpled it into a tight ball and threw it at her, hitting her in the shoulder hard enough to get her attention. She spun around to see who had hit her, and was met by the sight of her grinning father holding up her gift to him and mouthing the words, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she murmured back, being sure to clearly form the words so that he would be able to read her lips.
A few minutes later, the festivities were interrupted by a loud BANG! Harry’s head jerked up, and immediately focused on the large cloud of violently purple smoke hovering around Philippe’s head.
“Peeves!” Philippe shouted as he dropped the box he had just opened and shot to his feet, revealing a face that had been dyed the same violent shade of purple as the smoke. “You’re in for it now!” Fred’s older son grinned at him and then took off at a run as Philippe charged. The chase went on for several minutes, and didn’t stop until little James, Fabian, and Gideon decided it looked like fun and joined in running around in circles while screaming at the top of their lungs, and the adults were forced to intervene.
All in all, it was an extremely fun morning, and more than once Harry found himself laughing so hard that it was difficult to breathe. When the presents had all been opened and the discarded paper had all been cleared away, Molly started edging toward the kitchen.
“Who wants to help with breakfast?” she asked. “I can cook enough food for this lot by myself, but it’ll go a lot faster with more than one wand working.”
“I’ll come,” Penelope volunteered at once.
“Wait!” Ginny called out. “I’ll help you too, Mum, but first I have to open Harry’s present.” Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look carefully at the package in her lap. The flat, foot-long box was wrapped in red and green patterned paper and tied with a gold ribbon.
“I thought you said it was small enough to hold in one hand,” Lily said, sounding just a bit confused.
“You really don’t have to watch her open it,” Harry said, feeling his face heat up. Even among family, it was still difficult for him to be the center of attention - especially when he knew they were all about to be disappointed.
“Well maybe we want to watch her open it,” Hermione retorted. “Go on, Ginny.” Ginny gleefully tore into the paper, revealing a large box of her favorite Honeydukes chocolates.
“Thank you, Harry,” Ginny said with a wry grin. “If you couldn’t remember what kinds of chocolates I like, though, you could’ve just asked. There was no need to run out and buy a Pensieve.”
“That’s not why-” Ginny winked at him, and he fell silent as everyone had a chuckle at his expense. “See? I told you it wasn’t anything big,” he told the rest of the room after a moment. Several of the adults looked rather disappointed, but no one commented as the focus shifted from presents to breakfast.
The hours between breakfast and Christmas dinner flew by in a blur as the house shook with shouting and laughter from children and adults alike. Harry marveled at the sheer amount of energy the youngest kids seemed to have as they ran, jumped, and sometimes quite literally flew around, bouncing off the walls and ceiling. Quiet didn’t return to the Burrow until around ten o’clock, when everyone had returned to their own homes and Brian and Lily were sent off to bed.
After setting the last of the dishes from Christmas dinner to wash themselves, Molly dragged herself into the living room and collapsed onto the sofa next to her husband. “Remind me again why we do this every Christmas,” she murmured.
Arthur smiled indulgently at her. “Because we all love to get together like that, but it’s too tiring to do more than once a year.”
“Not to mention you live for all that noise and chaos, no matter how much you try to deny it,” Ginny added, smirking at her mother.
“Why don’t we head on upstairs, Molly?” Arthur asked after a moment. “It’s been a rather tiring day, and I don’t think either of us wants to be too exhausted tomorrow.” Molly looked like she would rather spend the night right where she was than have to climb the stairs up to their bedroom, but she nodded and pushed herself to her feet.
“Goodnight, dears,” she said tiredly.
“Goodnight, Mum,” said Ginny. “Love you. You too, Dad.”
“Goodnight,” Harry echoed as the older couple made their way up the somewhat rickety staircase. He and Ginny sat in silence for a couple of minutes before she began to shift in her seat, preparing to stand.
“Wait,” Harry said softly.
Ginny hesitated for a split second before sinking back into the sofa next to him. “What’s up?”
Harry cleared his throat nervously and, without realizing it, tried to flatten his hair. “Ginny, about the present I gave you-”
“It’s not a problem, Harry,” she interrupted gently. “I absolutely love Honeydukes chocolates.”
“I know,” he murmured. “But that’s not the point. What I mean is-” He groaned in frustration and held out his hand. “Here.”
Curious, Ginny reached out and took the tiny present wrapped in shiny gold paper from his fingertips. It couldn’t have been more than an inch in any dimension, and she had no idea what Harry could be giving her that would fit inside such a miniscule box.
“Before you open it,” Harry began, feeling a bit more confident now that she actually had the present in her hand, “you have to understand that it’s sort of a strange gift.”
“Strange how?” she asked, staring intently at the tiny box.
“Well, mainly because I’d like you to seriously consider giving it back to me after you open it.”
Ginny’s brow furrowed in confusion. “What sort of present is this?” she asked incredulously.
“Open it and see,” Harry said simply.
Slowly and carefully, as though frightened she might break whatever lay within the tiny box, Ginny peeled off the paper and lifted the lid. When she saw what was inside, her face registered a mixture of confusion and disbelief, as though she knew what she was seeing, but couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it. Her hands began to tremble slightly as she tipped the box over into the palm of her left hand and stared at the simple gold ring.
The outer surface, which had been perfectly smooth and blemish-free the last time she had seen it, was now covered in tiny scratches that dulled the gold’s luster. It had taken its share of careless abuse over the years, but was essentially still intact. Most importantly, the tiny letters engraved on the inside surface still proclaimed the words she had chosen over fifteen years ago - words which meant even more to her now that Harry had returned after everyone had thought him dead for so long.
Love Stronger Than Death
Tears sprang to Ginny’s eyes, blurring her vision as she read the words over and over.
“How?” she asked weakly. “Why?”
“I tracked it down the same way Dumbledore tracked down Voldemort’s Horcruxes,” Harry said quietly. “That was why I needed the Pensieve. As for why....” He paused to take a deep breath and blow it out very slowly.
“Ginny, ever since I showed up here this past summer I’ve been an idiot,” he blurted. “Lately, though, I’ve realized that I don’t want to act that way anymore. I don’t want to be a teenager who looks like an adult; I want to be the man I should have been all along. I want to be Brian and Lily’s dad, and- and I want to be your husband.”
“Harry,” Ginny whispered, ignoring the tears that were streaming down her face. Almost of their own accord, his hands reached out to brush them away.
“This isn’t going to be easy for me, Ginny,” he warned in a quiet voice. “I know I’m not ready to really be all that overnight, but I want to try.”
“And I’d like nothing more than to help you,” she sobbed happily. “Would you like me to put this on you?”
“Either that, or you can keep it to remind you of the husband you lost,” Harry answered, his eyes downcast. “I know I’ll probably never be-”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ginny demanded, her shock giving way to a hint of anger. “I’ve only ever had one husband, and he’s sitting here in front of me! I didn’t give up on you when everyone thought you were dead, and I certainly won’t now.”
Taking his left hand in hers, she slid the ring onto his finger. “Love stronger than death, remember?” she reminded him gently. “Nothing can keep us apart forever, not even death, and certainly not some ruddy Memory Charm.”
Harry chuckled weakly. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“Here’s a little secret, Harry,” she whispered. “None of us do. You’re doing fine so far, though.”
“Really?” he asked hopefully.
Ginny nodded. “But after that speech you just gave me, don’t think I’m letting you go without a goodnight kiss tonight.”
“Aren’t you worried I’ll mess it up?” he asked. He was looking forward to this almost as much as she was, but for some inexplicable reason he kept stalling. “I mean, you’ve had quite a while to build up expectations. What if-”
“Harry,” Ginny interrupted softly. “Just shut up and kiss me already.”
Harry stared at her for a long moment before finally bringing a hand to her cheek while nervously wetting his lips. Her breathing hitched slightly when his hand made contact, and he leaned in toward her, his other hand finding the small of her back and pulling her closer as their lips touched. The kiss was chaste and only lasted a few short seconds, but it had been so long since the last time they had kissed that it hardly mattered.
As they slowly pulled apart, Ginny sighed in contentment and cuddled up against Harry’s side, his arm wrapped protectively around her.
“So,” she said quietly after several minutes of comfortable silence. “What happens now?”
“Now?” Harry repeated, shrugging. “Well, normally, I’d get all flustered and stutter and stammer my way into asking you to be my girlfriend, but somehow that doesn’t seem to fit in this situation.”
“No,” Ginny chuckled. “Why don’t we try acting like that, though? Like we’re just dating, I mean. I think it’ll help us both get used to this whole idea again.”
“That sounds perfect,” Harry murmured. “You’ve been so perfect through all of this.”
“That’s what you think,” Ginny scoffed. “You have no idea how many times I nearly hexed you for looking like my Harry but refusing to act like him. The only reason I didn’t was because I always held out hope that something like this would happen, and I was afraid that if I outright attacked you, it never would.”
“I want to be your Harry again,” Harry said sincerely. “Just give me some time.”
“As much as you need,” she pledged. “As long as you don’t go trying to push me away.”
They stayed on the sofa, talking quietly and holding one another, for another hour, until neither of them felt they could stay awake any longer. Then they climbed the stairs hand-in-hand, and when they reached Ginny’s bedroom, they shared another, slightly longer, goodnight kiss before she went inside and Harry continued up the stairs to his own bed. He never remembered his feet touching a single step.