DRARRY - Wonderful Wheezes

Chapter One

"They say what?" Harry demanded.

"We regret to inform you that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes has missed its latest mortgage payment," Ron repeated dispassionately. "You have until October 1st, 1999, to complete the payment, or the property will be forfeited—"

"I'll shove the payment up their fucking arses!"

"—to Gringotts Wizarding Bank automatically. Furthermore, in order to ensure proper economic success for the whole of Diagon Alley, unless the owners of the property can prove that the shop is still profitable by December 31st, 1999, it will be foreclosed. The Ministry is happy—"

"Oh, happy, are they? I'll bet, yeah. The absolute fucking wankers."

"—to send an inspector around to monitor the shop's proceedings and send back reports on the patronage, net income, and potential for growth. If this letter has been sent in error, please contact..."

"Of course it's a bloody error!"

"We haven't kept up with the payments," Ginny murmured, sitting at the other end of the kitchen table and staring determinedly at her tea. "Most of the money the shop made went to Fred's funeral. And some to the War Orphans' Trust Fund. Anyway, there's not much left now, and I don't think we remembered."

"Well, I'll pay it," Harry said. He didn't mind. How could he? He'd helped start the shop, after all, so there was no reason he couldn't keep it going.

"What would be the point?" Ron's face was bleak as his words.

"It was Fred and George's shop..." Harry tried, having the strangest feeling that if he made one wrong move everything around him would explode.

"I know that. Do you see them here?"

"George, he... We could keep it running."

That's what they'd been doing so far, and there was no reason it couldn't still work. Verity was experienced enough with the day-to-day proceedings that she didn't need his help, and there hadn't been many customers to keep up with.

"You think you could invent new products?" Ron asked. "Advertise? Convince wizarding children that they simply must have a telescope that punches you in the eye? I can't think of a single person who could do that besides them, Harry, and certainly not you."

"We— we can't just give up," he insisted, looking hopelessly between Ron and Ginny, the confidence draining out of him. "What if George wants it someday?"

Ginny stood, pulling Harry into a tight hug. She smelled like peppermint, and also like she might be desperately in need of a shower. He couldn't bring himself to mind.

"I think it might be best for all of us to let go," she said. "We can't keep it going forever without them. It'd be a money pit, and the Ministry knows it."

"I'd be happy to—"

"I know you would. But maybe just," she looked back at Ron, biting her lip, "don't."

His chest clenched, begging him to do something. Ginny wouldn't meet his eyes, and he knew she was probably struggling to hold on.

She never cried in front of them. He didn't know why, or what she was trying to prove, but she didn't. She would lock herself up in her room and turn the music up full blast, only coming out hours later when she could pretend nothing was wrong again. And he didn't want to force her to, because he still loved her, even if they weren't together.

Their breakup hadn't been much, just the culmination of months spent grieving and the realisation that they'd stopped being able to take care of each other, let alone themselves. It hadn't been permanent when they proposed it, exactly, but it felt pretty permanent now.