Work Text:
Portraits
April 2nd, 2000 (Sunday)
Harry was not prone to bouts of nervousness. Yet today, as he stood in the kitchen of The Burrow, its familiar chaos—charmed dishcloth and scrubber working their way through the mound of dishes—only served to make his already sweaty hands even more clammy.
It wasn’t uncommon for them, the Weasley’s along with their spouses or partners, to visit The Burrow on a weekend, usually Sunday, for brunch or dinner. However this weekend had been slightly different. When the twins' birthday, now solely George’s, had fallen on Saturday it meant the family gathered to celebrate, and mourn, their sons. It had been during that gathering that Harry, his intentions hidden from everyone except Ginny, asked to present his gift the following day, on Sunday. And so, Harry’s request granted, the Burrow became a hive of activity.
“Are you doing okay?”
“Yeah,” Harry replied with a hesitant nod. His pause was noticeable and drew a sideways glance from the girl with copper-red hair and honey brown eyes who stood beside him. “I’m a little nervous,” Harry admitted.
Harry’s words were met with a chuckle.
“Harry,” Ginny stopped, a reassuring hand finding its way to Harry's back. “Honey, you’ve no reason to be nervous, I know they’ll love it .”
For Harry those words, spoken honestly and filled with love, meant more than any other compliment he had ever received. Smiling, Harry leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on Ginny’s cheek.
Nearly two-years had passed since the pair—during the period of mourning the loss of family and dear friends—had sought each other out. It hadn’t taken them long, a lengthy walk taken over the ruined Hogwarts grounds, to rekindle what they had the previous year.
In those following days, weeks and months, at the urging of Hermione, Harry had explained the reason behind why he had made the decisions he had. It was with tears in his eyes and his face nuzzled into Ginny’s copper-red hair that Harry detailed what had happened inside the Forbidden Forest. Harry, hoping to prevent further death and protect his friends, had willingly surrendered himself to Voldemort, and as the green light of the spell rushed forward a single memory flashed before his eyes.
The pair of them stood gazing out over the Great Lake, watching as the giant squid splashed about, before sharing a featherlight kiss. It was the moment Harry had first asked Ginny out. So, as Harry had prepared for death he was greeted by one of his happiest memories.
With a soft shake of his head Harry shoved the memories away. That memory used to be one of his happiest, now he had more than he could count.
“Gin,” Harry paused; he spoke her name with the tenderness and love he had never known during all those years he lived with the Dursley’s. “Thanks for all your help,” he continued, giving Ginny a soft squeeze.
“I was happy to help. It might be a present for them , but it also means the world to me,” Ginny said, giving him a squeeze back.
“What’re you love birds doing over there?”
Holding back a biting remark Harry turned to face Ron and chuckled. Leave it to Ron—even at the age of twenty—to inadvertently break up a heartwarming moment for the pair.
“Ron, I thought you requested to be left out of me and Harry’s private conversations,” Ginny remarked, a smile twisting at her lips as she watched Ron’s face grow red with embarrassment.
Where once Ron might have retorted he now, somewhat begrudgingly, held his comment.
It was undeniable to say they had all changed over the years: Ron abandoned his goal of being an Auror, instead he chose to help at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes; Molly and Arthur, despite the facades they wore, still grieved deeply for Fred; George had withdrawn and entered a dangerous spiral but was broken out of it by Angelina Johnson; Charlie had moved back to Britain to set up a Dragon Sanctuary of his own; following the battle Percy moved back into The Burrow and happily spent evenings and weekends with his parents; and Bill had spent the last half-year doting over Fleur as they readied to welcome the first Weasley grandchild.
This was the moment Molly chose to speak up.
“Harry, dear, are you and Ginny ready?”
At Molly’s question Harry felt his face and neck warm.
Harry nodded. “I’ll just retrieve it from Ginny’s room.”
And with those words Harry—a quick kiss shared with Ginny—exitted the kitchen and moved to climb the stairs.
Getting the gift within The Burrow had been a difficult task earlier that day. While Ginny ran interference with her family Harry had transported the gift upstairs into Ginny’s room, using his invisibility cloak to ensure no one saw what it was. Laying the gift upon Ginny’s duvet—his muttered “please keep quiet for the moment” being answered with a “you got it boss, it’ll be like I’m not even here” and a familiar laugh—Harry had returned to the main floor.
Now, as Harry climbed the steps up to Ginny’s room, he felt his nerves settle over him. With somewhat sweaty hands Harry retrieved the gift.
“It’s time,” he whispered, the sound of his voice oddly loud in Ginny’s quiet room.
“This’ll be fun.”
The familiar voices answer—its noticeable lilt and chuckle an all-too-familiar reminder of who hid beneath the cloak—brought a smile to Harry’s lips.
Shifting his grip on the cloak Harry stepped through the door onto the landing. With slow steps Harry descended the steps. The Weasley’s—or at least those who knew about Harry’s cloak—laughed when they saw him struggling with what appeared to be a non-existent object.
Once downstairs Harry, with Ginny moving in beside him, placed the framed object upon a conjured easel and readied himself for the gift presentation.
“First off, I wanted to thank everyone for being here today,” Harry started, the gentle and encouraging touch of Ginny’s hand on his arm spurring him forward. “I know it’s a difficult time of year,” at this Harry receives a handful of nods; “and I know we all miss him dearly,” another round of nods.
“Originally I had wished to present this yesterday. But, while it is primarily a gift for George, I know this gift has significant meaning to everyone ,” Harry pauses, pulling the invisibility cloak off the framed object.
And as the cloak fell to the ground Harry heard a chorus of confused gasps. In his hands Harry held a large gold and magenta framed portrait. “This portrait is one of a pair—the other will be delivered shortly to Weasley Wizards Wheezes in Diagon Alley—and allows its subject to move freely between either.”
“So, it’s similar to the Headmaster’s portraits?” Arthur asked.
Harry and Ginny nodded. “That’s correct, and it’s part of the inspiration behind this gift,” Harry answered smoothly.
“What’s this gift have—”
The question, Harry knew not who its from, was silenced by a piercing shriek and an eruption of gasps as the portrait's figure came into view. In the centre of the portrait, dressed in a set of pristine magenta robes and wearing his trademark smile, stood Fred Weasley.
“It’s nice to see everyone surprised. How’s the family?”
Fred’s comment and question went unanswered as the Weasley’s charged forward. At the forefront was Molly, her warm eyes pooling with tears. On Molly’s heels was Arthur, his eyes wide in disbelief and a happy smile spread across his face. Behind them were the brother’s. At the front were Bill and Charlie, wide grins of joy spread across their faces; following them were Ron and Percy, their reactions a half-second slower.
However, it was George, still seated on the couch, who Harry found himself unable to look away from. The younger twin had tears in his eyes and his shoulders visibly shook as sobs racked his body.
Chaos had overtaken the sitting room. Having taken a step back Harry watched the Weasley’s, glad that Ginny had put a non-tipping charm upon the easel.
Before Harry knew what was happening he felt himself being pulled into a hug. Having separated herself from the rest of her family Molly, tears tracing their way down her rosy cheeks, embraced him.
Once upon a time Harry had recoiled—more instinctual than anything, memories of the Dursley’s all-too-familiar—at physical touch, but now he welcomed it.
“Thank you, thank you so—”
“I’m glad you like it,” Harry cut Molly off, his arms encircling the woman he considered closest to a motherly figure.
This was the moment Arthur joined them. As the Weasley patriarch wrapped his arms around them, he drew Ginny in and their embrace grew. Only when they all withdrew, the four of them lost in their own moment, did Harry realize they had an audience.
The Weasley brothers, six heads of bright red hair, had all turned to watch them.
“Well, we know who the ‘favourite child’ is now .”
The comment came from Fred and drew a round of laughter from the other brothers.
“Fred, you know that’s not correct,” Molly chided, her gaze falling upon the portrait of her son. “You’re all my children, and I love all of you the same. Even when you’re causing trouble for your father and I.”
From one of the Weasley brothers—Harry could rule Percy out based on his straight-laced character—came a cough and a mutter of, “Bollocks.”
Whirling around on her son’s Molly gave them her patented stare. “What was that I heard?”
A chorus of “Nothing Mum,” rang out from several brothers as an additional comment cut through the sitting room.
“What’s so bad ‘bout saying ‘bollocks’? We’ve all got them—minus you and Gin.”
“Fred Gideon Weasley, watch your mouth,” Molly bellowed, the sharpness of her voice making many of those present recoil. “Just because you're back home, doesn’t mean I can’t wash it out with soap.”
This comment, accompanied by the stern stare from Molly, sent a wave of laughter through the sitting room.
As Harry joined the laughter he felt the soft touch of Ginny’s hand upon his elbow. Glancing sideways, Harry gave her a gentle smile to which she leaned into him.
“I’m glad they liked it,” Harry commented softly, an arm wrapping around Ginny’s waist.
“Honey, you had nothing to worry about,” Ginny supplied in response. “However, you might have trouble when we tell them about this little one ,” Ginny added, guiding Harry’s hand down to where the life grew within her.