A.V. - After Voldemort

OK boys and girls, I realize it's been far too long since I have updated. Mostly my work has been really busy, and I'm trying to find a new apartment, etc. etc. However, that doesn't get me off the hook.

I will say that this chapter will perhaps be the hardest to write. So if it's not the best, rest assured the story will improve.

YOU ARE ONE CHAPTER AWAY FROM THE KINKY STUFF! Next chapter will have some interesting developments for our young characters!

And finally, thanks to everyone who took the time to even click this story. It means a lot to me personally to see people enjoying my work.

With that, on to chapter 2!

Chapter 2: The Final Summer, Pt. 1
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Harry emerged from the castle to find a small crowd of people waiting for them. The Weasley family was talking with Kingsley, and off to one side was, much to Harry's dismay, Rita Skeeter. All of them looked at them as they approached.

“We'll wait a little off to the side here,” Mrs. Weasley said, dragging the rest of the Weasley's as well as Hermione away, leaving Harry facing Kingsley and Rite Skeeter. Kingsley nodded at Harry, and turned away to go look at Dumbledore's white memorial, which left Harry and his least favorite journalist staring at each other.

“Well,” Harry said, his temper already flaring, “come to write my autobiography and spread lies against me just like you did to Dumbledore?”

Rita Skeeter gave Harry a smile that was all malice. “Harry, my dear, I'm appalled you would say such a thing about me. I am, after all, a well-respected journalist. However,” she said, reaching into her purse for a piece of parchment and a quill, “if you have any personal comments on the events, or just anything in general, I'd be more than happy to take them down.”

“Not on your life,” he replied, and noticed that the quill hadn't started moving at his words. “Not using your Quick-Quotes Quill any longer?” he asked, spite in his voice.

“Now that wouldn't do, would it?” Rita replied, looking a little bitter now. “Besides, even if I did publish anything that portrayed you in a bad light, no one would have it. You're the savior of the wizarding world, the boy who defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named...”

“Voldemort,” Harry corrected her, and was rewarded with a flinch from her at the sound of the name.

“Whatever,” Rita continued, a bit flustered. “Plus, you know my little secret, and I can't have that getting out, can I? But the point is, I do want to write a book on you, Harry. Where were you all year, what were you doing, how did you finally defeat...” she paused, bunching up her courage, “...Voldemort?”

“I won't answer a single question if you're writing it, and without me you'll never get the real answer, “Harry replied bitterly.

“Oh well fine!” Rita shrieked, “Minister! Your turn!” And she marched away without a second glance or goodbye to Harry or the Weasleys.

Kingsley turned back to Harry. “I hope you didn't do anything rash, Harry,” he advised. “That Skeeter woman has a foul quill, you should know that.”

“She won't dare write anything bad about me,” Harry replied cooly. “I have something against her I can use if she does, and she knows it.”

“Well, you'll be the only one then,” Kingsley replied, glancing in the direction that Rita had gone. “But enough of that woman, I'm here about your future, Harry.” Harry's eyes shot up into Kingsley's. “Minerva tipped me off about the three of you getting to graduate early, and also about you and Mister Weasley's intentions to become Aurors. There are spots for you, if you want them,” he added with a grin.

Harry knew he should be happy about the announcement, but given recent events, it just felt like a hollow ring against his heart. “Thanks, Minister. I'll have to talk to Ron about it, but he should join up with me.”

Kingsley took Harry's hand and shook it. “I had a feeling you would. And I won't beat around the bush, there's a political reason for wanting you in the Ministry, Harry. All of you, Hermione included.” Harry's eyes shot up to Kingsley with a wary glare.

“Not anything like with Scrimgeour,” Kingsley said, throwing his hands up in defense. “It's more that you lot have showed a strong sense of justice amid all of this mess, and the Ministry is a wreck right now. Besides the Death Eaters still on the loose, we have mass corruption in all branches of the Ministry itself. You lot are, quite honestly, the most trustworthy people I can find right now, and I need your strength of character to help me reform the Ministry into what it was meant to be.”

Harry was genuinely touched by Kingsley's words. “I'm honored Minister, and I'll do my best to help you straighten things out.”

“Neville Longbottom will be joining you at Auror training,” Kingsley commented. “That boy has real courage, standing up to Voldemort like he did. He'll go far.”

“I'm glad to hear that,” Harry said, and despite the times, he smiled. Neville had turned into a pretty amazing man as far as Harry had seen. He had noticed Neville chatting with some of the old D.A. before Harry had been taken into the castle earlier.

“Well then, Auror training starts the same day as the first day of Hogwarts classes, so you still have the summer to get, well, everything settled.” He glanced up at the castle, shook Harry's hand again, and turned to leave. Harry saw Kingsley glance at the Weasleys standing a little ways off, furrow his brow, and continue on.

Harry noticed Hermione missing from their group, and went to investigate. “She couldn't do it, mate,” Ron said, glancing at the castle. “She didn't want the easy way out. She tore up her diploma and went back to tell McGonagall she was going to do her seventh year properly.” Harry wasn't really surprised by this, and when Hermione emerged from the castle a few minutes later, he put a hand on her shoulder in support.

* * *

Harry lay on his bed in Ron's room back at the Burrow later. He was holding his Order of Merlin, First Class medal up in front of his face. His mind, however, was elsewhere. He was reliving the night of the battle at Hogwarts. It was as vivid as though it were all happening again. The screams, the sounds of destruction and roars of rage, it was all there.

“Harry?” asked Hermione, who entered the room and sat on Harry's bed next to his feet. Harry glanced towards her and saw Ron join her. “Are you alright?” she asked with a concerned look on her face as though he were a difficult Charms problem.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Harry replied, putting the medal down.

“Bollocks, mate” said Ron with a snort. “You're not fine, and you shouldn't be. None of us should be. We've been through a lot this past year, and not stuff wizards our age normally do either.”

“I know,” said Harry rather dejectedly.

Ron and Hermione both looked at each other, gave each other a slight nod, and then turned back to Harry. “Harry,” Hermione began, “We're going to go find my parents tomorrow. I want to get them back here and with their proper minds as soon as possible.”

Harry sat up quickly. “Great,” he said, glad for the chance for an adventure to distract him. “How long to you figure it'll take us to find them?”

“See, that's the problem,” Ron said. “Hermione and I are going to go. Alone.”

Harry was slightly confused by this comment. “But, we've always be a trio...” he started.

“Yes, we know,” said Hermione quickly, “But there are people here who need you.”

“Like my sister,” said Ron. “She's a lot more beat up about Fred's death than she lets on. She needs you mate, and you need to be here with her rather than off in another country.”

Harry slammed his hand into his pillow in frustration. “You're right,” he said. “But I just can't help wanting to go with you two. We've been through everything together.”

“We'll be sure to remember as much as we can so we can tell you every bit,” Ron said with a grin. They got up and left Harry alone with his thoughts, which were rather dark. A part of him worried greatly about their safety, as though his mere presence would stave off danger. Another part realized that they were two well-qualified wizards, just like him, and could take care of themselves.

He got up and went to find Ginny. He found her in her room, much in the same position he had been in a few minutes earlier. “Mind some company?” he asked with a gentle knock on her door. She glanced over and him and nodded, patting the bed next to her. Harry could see the tears she was even now trying to wipe away.

Harry took her hand. “It's alright you know,” he said gently. “It's good to get it all out.” And before he knew it he was laying on the bed, and Ginny was hugging him so fiercely, her hot tears staining his shirt. It seemed like everything that she had been holding back had suddenly exploded out of her in a torrent of emotion. It was all Harry could do to pat her back gently while tears of his own fell from his face into her hair.

He realized they had been through a lot, and Ginny had gone through more heartache in the past year than Harry would ever know. She had had to sit in Hogwarts for a whole year, not knowing where he was or what he was doing, or, perhaps worst of all, whether he was safe. And while they might not have been “dating”technically, Harry had little doubt that that fact would have dampened her care for Harry.

He heard Mrs. Weasley's voice calling them to dinner, and he felt Ginny roll off of him slowly, trying to wipe the remaining tears from her eyes. “Thanks, Harry,” she said with a sniff. “I needed that.”

“I'm here for you Ginny, just like you're there for me,” Harry said, patting her shoulder lightly. “But right now I need to get a dry shirt. I don't think you want your mom asking questions,” he said with a small smile.

Ginny laughed despite the tears still in her eyes, and went on trying to dry her eyes as Harry stepped out of her room to run up to Ron's for a clean shirt. No one asked any questions when Harry arrived at the dinner table with a different shirt than he had had on earlier, and he took the last seat available, which he was pleased to see was next to Ginny, who despite her best effort still looked like she had been crying, her eyes still puffy and red. Of course, most of them had some evidence of their sorrow. Mrs. Weasley would occasionally look around the table, notice Fred's absence, and choke back a sob. Mr. Weasley kept looking at the door, as though thinking that Fred's death was merely his latest prank, and that he would waltz through the door at any minute, asking jovially if people missed him.

George, rather than looking around, was staring at his plate, his mind obviously elsewhere. Percy, who had joined them at the small table, had seemed to become very interested in the ceiling, thought Harry saw him blinking furiously throughout the whole meal. Harry guessed that Ron and Hermione were holding hands underneath the table by the way their arms were poised, and they kept looking at each other when they thought no one else was looking at them.

Harry felt this meal had to be the most somber meal he had ever eaten. He had never felt so much misery in a single room. Nothing, not Cedric's death in his fourth year, or the deaths of Sirius or Dumbledore seemed as gloomy as the room he was currently eating in. There was no conversation, or noise at all save for Mrs. Weasley's occasional sniff. Even the food was bland, a possible first in the Weasley household.

They all retired early. It was hard not to with everyone mentally worn out from the day's events. Ron and Hermione would be leaving in the morning, and Harry vowed to be up to see them off. Which of course meant he couldn't sleep at all that night. Too many faces were haunting him in his sleep.

* * *

The following morning Harry and Ginny were standing opposite of Hermione and Ron. Ron was carry both of their backpacks on his back, a fact that had made Hermione blush and comment that she could carry her own bag. It was really only a gesture as they would be Apparating to an international portkey bound for Australia.

“How long do you think it will take to find your parents?” Harry asked.

“I know where my parents were supposed to live,” said Hermione immediately, “so I doubt more than a few days at the most. However, well...” She paused and glanced at Ron with a small grin. Ron smiled widely.

“We were thinking of turning it into a bit of a vacation for us,” he said sheepishly. “You know, get away for a bit, just the two of us. Don't tell Mum,” he said with a glare at Ginny. She shrugged her shoulders and put her arm around Harry.

“What you two do while in Australia is your own business, and so long as I don't have to hear the details you can do what you please. Remember, Ron, I'm not a prat,” Ginny said with a cheeky grin as Ron blushed.

“Well n-now,” Ron stuttered. “You two best...uh...behave,” he ended lamely. Harry could tell that Hermione's hands on his shoulder to turn him towards the drive told Ron to shut up and move.

“We'll see you in a week and a few days. Have to settle my parents back into our house!” Hermione called as she took Ron's hand, gave him a quick peck on the cheek, and turned, dragging him along to their portkey with an audible popping sound.

“I guess that leaves the two of us all alone,” Harry said, wrapping an arm around Ginny. He leaned over and kissed her gently, their lips barely brushing together. He heard a rather loud call from the house from Mrs. Weasley, and regretfully broke away.

“Damn,” Harry murmured. “Foiled again by your mum.” He unwrapped himself from Ginny and turned to walk back to the house.

“You're not getting off that easy, Harry,” Ginny said as she fell into step next to him. “We'll finish this later,” she said softly so that only he could hear as they headed inside for Mrs. Weasley's cooking, which Harry was pleased to see had returned to it's usual splendor. He almost felt sorry for Ron, who would go without Mrs. Weasley's wonderful cooking for a whole week. But then again, he had Hermione, and given a choice Harry had no doubt where Ron would choose to be.

The rest of the day was spent apart from Ginny helping Mrs. Weasley around the house. The Weasley house was quickly becoming empty. George had returned to his flat above his store in Diagon Alley, Charlie was still in Romania, Bill and Fleur were back in their cottage, and with Ron gone, Harry realized that aside from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny was the last Weasley left in the house. And as he walked around the house, it felt more empty than it had ever been when he had been there. He suddenly knew how the house had to feel during the year when he and Ron had been at Hogwarts.

Harry also had a suspicion that Mrs. Weasley had seen him kissing Ginny. And while it was no secret they were dating, and would be for a long while, he had a feeling Mrs. Weasley was still trying to protect Ginny. Hence her not letting them work together.

So it was not until after dinner that Harry got to get back to Ginny as they cuddled on the couch listening to the wireless while sorting through the day's mail. Harry had been getting simply ludicrous amounts of mail recently, with everything from job offers to love letters to requests for interviews from seemingly every journalist and author he had ever heard of, and quite a few he hadn't. So they went through, opened a few to read them, laugh, and throw them into the fire.

Mr. Weasley was sitting in a chair reading the day's Prophet, so they didn't do anything besides trade hugs, but before long they both retired to bed, and Harry could feel Mrs. Weasley's on him from the kitchen as he ascended the stairs. As they approached Ginny's door, Harry leaned his head in to kiss her, and was shocked when he felt a tug on his shirt as Ginny almost threw him into her room, gently closing the door behind them.

“Told you you weren't getting away that easily, Harry,” she said as she threw herself against him. Harry fell back from her weight, and felt the back of his legs hit her bed, and they both fell back onto the soft sheets.

“Uh, Ginny,” Harry said, blushing slightly. “Your parents are right below us...”

“And I don't care,” Ginny replied with a fierce gaze Harry know meant she was telling the truth. “You're sleeping with me from now on, Mr. Potter. I'm never going to sleep without you again.” She practically yanked his body to the center of the bed, and practically smothered him with her body.

“Gin...Ginny,” Harry panted as Ginny kissed him passionately. She pulled away and glared at him. “Erm, not that this isn't great and all, I just, well, I'm not very experienced in, uh...” He stumbled over his words. He didn't want to use the word “sex” since this wasn't that, and suddenly he realized that his mouth was hanging open with no word to fill it. “...this,” he finished lamely.

“You think I do, Harry?” Ginny asked as she rolled off of him with a huff, the moment ruined. “I'm just going off of what I've heard from my brothers and a few other sources I'd rather not mention. Maybe we aren't ready for all that.” Harry just nodded his head dumbly, not really knowing what to say. He put his arm around her shoulders and turned her on her side towards him.

He kissed her gently. “Let's start with some sleep, and we can worry about the other stuff when we have a better idea of what to do. I don't want to, you know, hurt you or anything.” He was starting to worry himself, and thought to perhaps ask Hermione about sex when she had returned. He knew that muggle schools taught classes about sex, but the wizarding world did nothing of the sort, leaving him very confused and not at all sure of himself. He was also aware that many of his peers had had sex. Hogwarts was a big castle, and Harry, with his very good knowledge of the school, had at times dreamed of kissing girls, and sometimes more, in various hidden places in the castle.

“Let's just get some sleep,” Harry said, pulling her closer. “I just wonder what your mum will say if she catches us.” He kissed Ginny softly, running his hands around her back.

“Unless she wants us to move ourselves to Grimmauld Place, she better not say a thing,” Ginny said, making Harry smile. He did still own Grimmauld Place, and with Kreacher's change of heart about Harry, it had become, while not quite a home, at least a place to stay.

“That house isn't exactly a home,” said Harry, now yawning. “That batty portrait kind of ruins it. And it needs some paint or wallpaper or something.”

“Maybe we can turn that into a summer project. Turn that into a proper house,” Ginny said, now yawning herself. She snuggled up next to Harry, resting her head on his shoulder. Harry turned his head slightly, smelling that smell that was unequivocally Ginny as he drifted off into the first dreamless sleep he had had since the battle at Hogwarts.