Setting things to rights - 8

Ginny pushed back from the table and hurried over to Bill. She threw her arms around him and hugged him fiercely. "Thanks, Bill."

"I'm sorry, Ginny," he whispered into her hair. Releasing her, he looked up and stared intently at Harry, "I owe you an apology, too."

"Never mind," Harry said, waving his hand dismissively. "It's like you said, as long as we stick together, Voldemort can't win."

"Right, even if we sometimes act like prats," Bill said, smiling.

"Don't worry. Harry knows that even Weasleys can act like prats on occasion," Ron said, joining the conversation.

"Well, he must be very well aware of that since he's been stuck living with you for the past seven years," Bill said, chuckling.

"And he's been lucky to have him," Hermione said, beaming at Ron with glistening eyes.

"Yes, I have," Harry said, smiling. That annoying lump in this throat appeared determined to return.

"I've been lucky to find all of you."

"Except when we act like prats," Ginny said, plopping a scoop of mashed potatoes on his plate.

"Yes," Harry replied grinning. "Except then."

The dinner resumed with much less tension than there had been on previous evenings. Mr. Weasley had joined them halfway through, and after the initial shock of seeing Ginny's hair, he told her how proud he was of her. Harry felt almost as if they'd never left and thoroughly enjoyed himself in Grimmauld Place for the first time in a very long time. When dinner was over, a giggling Fleur led Ginny and Hermione from the kitchen.

Before he had a chance to follow the girls from the room, Mr. Weasley placed a gentle hand on Harry's arm.

"Harry, could I have a word?" he asked.

His tone was gentle, almost conciliatory, but Harry still felt uneasy. He nodded stiffly and followed Mr. Weasley into the sitting room.

Mr. Weasley lit the fire in the grate and poured two glasses of brandy from a decanter on the desk. He handed one to Harry as he sat beside him on the couch. He swooshed the amber liquid around in his glass for several moments without speaking. Harry forced himself not to fidget, but the collar of his shirt was suddenly very tight.

"Well, Harry. I suppose you know why I wanted to speak with you," Mr. Weasley said, his ears turning as red as Ron's did when he was uncomfortable.

"Yes, sir," Harry said, dribbling a bit of the brandy down his chin.

"I owe you an apology," Mr. Weasley said suddenly, surprising Harry.

"Huh?" he asked. Oh, great. Really eloquent, Harry.

"As you know, I suspected you were going to pull a disappearing act. I also suspected Ron and Hermione would go with you. It was Ginny I was unprepared to find missing," Mr. Weasley said, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley. I knew you weren't expecting it, but I couldn't say anything," Harry said, feeling desperate.

"I know that, Harry. And unlike Kingsley or Minerva, I think you're more than capable of handling yourself in most situations. The person I underestimated was Ginny. She's my daughter–"

"And you wanted to keep her safe. I understand that, sir," Harry said earnestly.

"No, Harry. You misunderstood my meaning. Of course, I want her to be safe. I want all of my children to be safe, and I'm including you in that statement," Mr. Weasley said softly, causing Harry to swallow around the lump in his throat. "What I underestimated was my own daughter's determination. I know Ginny. I raised her. I shouldn't have expected anything less from her."