Chapter Text
You have to support baby's head. That's rule number one. Harry knew that, because he wasn't an idiot. He wasn't sure where he had acquired that knowledge since he'd never been around babies before, but it must be one of those things people just know. The sky is blue, the earth is round, baby's neck muscles aren't developed enough to support their massively oversized heads when the stork drops them off. It's just one of those things. What he didn't know was at what age the head supporting rule took a back seat to the much more general and all encompassing 'don't drop the baby' rule. It didn't really matter now since Teddy was not even three weeks old and clearly still in the floppy, head support needed category. He was so, so tiny. His fingernails small and sharp like baby Norberta's little dragon scales, his hair wispy and thin under his yellow and black striped beanie, his legs folded at the hip like he wasn't quite ready to stretch out after months curled in a warm ball. He was just a pink lump, really. Barely opening his eyes. Lips working mindlessly around his soother as he drifted between a groggy awake and deep sleep.
Harry hadn't intended to meet his godson today. To be fair, he hadn't had a plan at all. Typical. He had fallen asleep in an armchair by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. The battle hadn't left its mark on that space, even if the dormitories above had been blasted open. Rather than search for a proper bed, he, Ron, and Hermione had fallen asleep in their chairs after soup and sandwiches from a sedate and bandaged Kreacher.
Despite having been awake for nearly two days, Harry woke a few short hours later. Hermione had shifted to a sleeping bag and a spot on the floor. Ron was snoring, curled in a tight ball in his chair, which seemed comically cramped considering his friends height. Other students had made their way to the tower for a bit of rest, and were sleeping on sofas, in chairs, or on the floor.
Harry retreated from the tower carefully, trying his best to avoid stepping on anyone or making a noise that might wake them. A small pile of sleeping bags were stacked next to the portrait hole along with a small table laden with tea and snacks. Harry took a moment to prepare a cup and grabbed a small pastry before walking out as quietly as possible.
The damage to the castle seemed somehow worse in the light of day. Night had brought terror then overwhelming relief, but daylight brought grief, both numb and piercing. As he wove through the corridors around bits of rubble, doubled back to find an intact staircase, let his eyes linger on curse marks on the stone walls, and averted his gaze from the still drying pools of blood, he couldn't escape the reality of what had happened. Voldemort was dead, but at great cost.
The relief of Voldemort's demise and his own survival quickly faded to the wish it had been a nightmare - a premonition that he still had a chance to change. If he had only figured out the diadem sooner, he could have turned himself over from the start. But would Neville have had the chance to kill Nagini then? Was there a way to have won without the slaughter of so many people, both good and bad?
His feet had carried him through the eerily silent corridors to the destroyed entrance hall. He stood on the threshold to the Great Hall looking over the house tables, remembering the bodies that had been laid out in rows only hours before. He knew the dead were resting in the chamber behind the teacher's table - the one he had been to once after his name was called for the Triwizard Tournament. He couldn't make his feet move as he considered all the twists of fate that had led to Voldemort's downfall from that moment nearly four years ago. He felt tainted by his association with the wizard. He had been a horcrux the whole time. Nearly his whole life. A piece of Voldemort had latched onto him, entwining with his soul, always in the periphery of his mind. Dumbledore never told him. How would it have shaped his life if he had known earlier? About the prophecy? The horcrux? Would he have been the same person? Had the same friends? Would anyone who had died be alive now or vice versa? Had he been led to believe that people are made up of their choices only to feel like he never had a choice at all?
This felt like destiny.
A destiny fulfilled, for better or worse.
What was he supposed to do now?
BANG!
Harry jumped half a meter and twisted, wand drawn from his pocket in a flash, teacup shattered at his feet, and settled into a defensive crouch, only to be greeted by the sight of the purple, double-decker Knight Bus only a few meters back from the broken entrance hall doors. A stooped man with grey and black streaked hair and an easy smile stepped out in a conductor's uniform. He turned offering a steadying hand to a tall, slender woman with curly, dark brown hair fastened in a low plait. She wore trousers and a woolly cardigan. A nappy changing bag was draped over one shoulder and she held a baby carrier out in front of her. Her eyes were glassy, red, and puffy. She looked far away from herself. She couldn't have looked any different from her sister in that moment.
Harry's wand had lowered to his side as his feet had automatically carried him through the entrance way and down the steps to the front lawn. "Mrs. Tonks."
She turned her despondent gaze to him and he couldn't look away. Pain and loss radiated from her. He wished he could take some of that away.
"Thank you all for calling on the Knight Bus. We'll be back around, quick as you need us, free of charge," the conductor spoke solemnly. "We are truly sorry for your loss." Harry's gaze turned to the conductor, who flashed a sad smile, placed a hand over his heart and leaned into small bow to the assembled group and again to himself. "Mr. Potter."
The Knight bus was gone with another BANG! and the spell seemed to be broken. Harry was standing in front of a small group of families, all there to visit or collect their deceased loved ones. He recognised Lavender Brown's older sister, a few months pregnant by the looks of her, and to her left was Dennis Creevey standing in front of his parents looking as if he'd been punched in the gut repeatedly.
"Hiya, Harry," Dennis said, voice breaking on the familiar greeting. His mother's shoulders shook with quiet sobs.
"Dennis," Harry whispered. "It's good to see you."
Dennis nodded, but shuffled uncomfortably. "Do you... know where my brother is?"
Harry briefly panicked, wondering if they knew he was dead. But one glance at any member of this group, anyone could have told you they were grieving a loss. There was no hint of nervous fidgeting of the worried. There was no spark of hope in their faces.
"Yeah. They're just through here." Harry turned uncertainly to lead the party into the entrance hall. "Watch your step. It's... it's a real mess."
Harry wondered what the scene would look like to someone who hadn't seen the chaos unfold. Would the curse marks and rubble and crooked doors and charred stone and settling dust and spattered blood look any different to those who hadn't fought?
"Oh my," a woman at the back of the party uttered in shock.
No. It was bad no matter your perspective.
Professor McGonagall emerged from the chamber door just as the group was rounding the raised platform that held the teacher's table. She looked every bit her age and then some, but her robes were crisp and her expression was solemn. Even amongst the ruins she was a pillar of strength.
Harry was glad he wouldn't have to lead the group beyond. He didn't know what to say.
Professor McGonagall looked down at her watch, frowning. "My apologies. I was meant to greet you, but you seem to have found the way." Professors Sprout and Sinistra joined her from the chamber, and Professors Flitwick and Slughorn were speaking quietly to a group of people in Ministry robes shuffling papers in the opposite corner of the Great Hall. Lavender's sister - Melanie? Melody? - crumpled to her knees, crying and shaking, and Professor Sprout charged forward to comfort her. "My deepest condolences to you all. You raised brave, principled young men and women and it was my pleasure to have known and taught them all." Professor McGonagall paused, swallowing thickly before she continued. "We are here to help you through this, whatever you need." She kept her voice low, sorrowful, but it carried nonetheless. She stood to the side and gestured them forward. "Your loved ones are just through here. Come as you are ready."
The families made their way into the chamber one by one. The Creevey family were one of the first to enter, and the sound of their cries would likely haunt Harry's nightmares forever. Others lingered outside the door, pacing and fidgeting - the hope flickering that maybe, just maybe, this was all a mistake. It wouldn't be real until they saw it with their own eyes, so they planted their feet, not ready to accept their new world.
The croaking of a baby caught Harry's attention. Teddy wasn't crying, but he was fussing, waking up. He hadn't registered that Andromeda had stayed close to him as they walked through the Great Hall. He stared at Teddy, his godson, as his little fists swung and his face scrunched then relaxed.
"Do you- Can I.... I can watch him for you," Harry said quietly, "if you want to go in alone."
Andromeda surveyed him in silence.
"I'll keep him safe, I promise," Harry said, earnestly.
After another tense moment, she handed the nappy changing bag to Harry. "You'll stay here?"
Harry nodded. "No wandering."
"Don't let him out of you sight."
"Yes ma'am."
With a last hesitation, she handed the carrier to Harry and walked into the chamber to say goodbye to her daughter and son-in-law.
Harry settled himself and Teddy on the nearest bench. He rocked the carrier back and forth gently, hoping to trick Teddy into going back to sleep. But he started fussing more, and Harry began regretting his noble mouth offering to help when he had no idea what to do.
Teddy began crying in earnest, discarding his soother completely, and Harry felt like all eyes were on him, judging him for his inability to calm a child. He was being paranoid, he knew. There were very few people in the hall and they all had greater things on their minds than a crying baby in Harry Potter's care.
So against his better judgement, Harry was unclipping Teddy from his carrier, reciting to himself everything he knew about babies. It wasn't much.
Rule Number One. Support the head.
He glanced around to the chamber door one last time, hoping Andromeda would emerge and take over again. But she didn't and Teddy needed...something. He reached forward, gently snaking his right hand under Teddy's bum and his left beneath his head and neck. He pulled the small pink lump up from his carrier and tucked the little man to his chest. They bounced awkwardly, and Teddy's cries became more persistent. Harry talked nonsense, pointing with his head to things around the hall. "This is a bench, Teddy. Do you see the bench? It's made of wood and it smarts a bit, to be honest. This is the Hufflepuff table, though you can't really tell right now without the banners. I've never sat here before because I always sat at the Gryffindor table over there. See that Teddy?" He kept up a chatter, trying to use the soft, connected voice people associated with babies, dying people, and meditation. It wasn't working. Harry cast around to the nappy changing bag by his hip, but his hands were full with Teddy, so he couldn't root around for something to help him. How do you know if a nappy needs to be changed? How do you change a nappy? Was there magic involved in the cleaning? Were there baby charms he'd need to learn? Or was he hungry? Babies ate a lot, right? They'd have to since their only purpose this young was to grow. But how was he supposed to feed a baby without Tonks?
He jumped as a hand rested on his shoulder. "Are you alright, Harry?" Professor Sinistra sat down on the bench next to him, not removing her hand. Harry gave her a bewildered stare and belatedly realised he was breathing rather heavily.
"I don't know what to do," he gasped out in a rush.
She snorted. "I should think not. There aren't many seventeen year olds, especially only children like yourself, that know how to be around babies. Contrary to popular belief, it does not come naturally. I was out of my depth when I had my first little boy, and I was thirty-one," she said kindly. "How about you give the little fellow here and I'll teach you a few tricks."
Harry shook his head. "I promised I'd keep him safe."
"You are, Harry, and you will. You'll be right here beside me, and once you feel comfortable, I'll place him right back in your arms."
She shifted Teddy into her arms and he rested comfortably in the crook of her elbow as she started explaining how she was holding him, how best to sooth him, how to drape a spit up cloth over your shoulder to catch the drool and vomit, how to transition between the different holds, and then she placed Teddy gently back in Harry's arms.
The boy's fussing had settled a bit, but he wasn't falling back to sleep.
"I rather think he sounds hungry, don't you?" Professor Sinistra set about mixing a bottle of baby formula, teaching Harry about the temperature, feeding schedules, and nipple sizes. As Teddy suckled away, they sat in silence. Harry in awe of this little person looking back up at him. Just a few short weeks ago, Remus had charged into Shell Cottage to celebrate the life Harry now held in his arms. His heart ached and his eyes filled. Would Remus and Tonks have made a better choice in godfather had they known how little time they had left?
Professor Sinistra walked him through the motions of burping and when Teddy settled back down to sleep, she helped nestle him back into his carrier. Harry pulled the stocking cap back down onto Teddy's head and ran a finger along his slim arm.
"Well done, Mr. Potter," Professor Sinistra said. "Am I right in thinking this is Remus and Tonks' son?" Harry nodded, not looking away from the sleeping baby. "Tonks was one of my first students. Remus was a few years behind me in school, but we got on well in the staff room when he taught here. I look forward to having this little bean in my class. Just eleven years and four months. It'll be here before you know it."
"That it will, Aurora." Andromeda stood in front of them again, her face puffy and raw around the nose and eyes. She was holding a folder with the Ministry seal on it.
"Andromeda," Professor Sinistra stood, letting out a heavy sigh as she drew Andromeda into a tight hug. Harry kept his focus on Teddy, trying to take in all the details, not knowing when he'd see the little boy again. "He had a bottle not long ago. Should be asleep a while yet. Can I get you a cuppa? You don't have to leave yet."
Andromeda took a seat next to Harry as the other woman strode off for tea. "You should get that looked at." Harry looked back at Andromeda confused. "You've a nasty cut just above your ear. It'll get infected."
"Oh. Right," Harry said, raising a hand to his hair, only now realising he hadn't washed in days. His hair was stiff and matted with dried blood, dirt, leaves, and grime. The side of his head was tender and he hissed at the contact. Thick clotted blood clung to his fingertips, so he wiped his hand off on his shirt, only to notice how filthy and damaged his clothes were, too. For the first time that day, he took stock of something besides his hunger and his grief. His body ached all over. He felt the bruises from jumping into the lake from too great a height off the dragon's back. Spots on his thighs, arms and torso throbbed from stray curses or burns from the vault at Gringotts, he couldn't be sure. He raised his shirt up to inspect the source of a rip and blood stain on his shirt, only to find a congealed slash in his side. Red, glossy flesh showed burns on his stomach that he had missed with the dittany on the lake shore. His shoulder was stiff, and he was beginning to think the ache in his chest was physical as well as emotional, considering the edge of a dark bruise he could see stretch under his shirt from the top of the gash. His ears were ringing, and he blinked at her dazedly. "I didn't realise I got hurt."
Madam Pomfrey materialised before him as if called. Maybe she was, since Professor Sinistra was there behind her, passing cups of tea to Harry and Andromeda. He took the cup, only to spill hot liquid on his thumb as a tremor ran through his hand. Had that happened when he held the bottle for Teddy? The memory already seemed fuzzy, like he was somehow detached from himself.
The two women joined them on the bench, filling the silence with idle chatter. Andromeda took over rocking Teddy's carrier, but Harry still kept his eyes on his godson. The sight of the carrier moving back and forth was mesmerising and his eyelids drooped and snapped back open several times. Madam Pomfrey caught him as he fell forward, pulling the tea cup from his grasp as she steadied him on the bench. She leaned in close, "I think it's time for the Hospital Wing, Harry dear. Why don't you say goodbye to Teddy and then we'll get you fixed up." Harry shook his head.
"No, I don't want to go. I'm gonna keep him safe." His words sounded slurred to his own ears. "I promised."
"You can't keep anyone safe in this state, honestly." Madam Pomfrey's typical clipped reply came as if on instinct. "Come along, Potter. I won't ask nicely again."
Harry was familiar with that particular tone and couldn't muster the energy to protest. He leaned over Teddy's carrier for a last look, but didn't touch for fear of disturbing him. "Bye, Teddy. I'm so sorry."
He stood with Madam Pomfrey gripping him under his sore shoulder. They walked a few paces before Harry turned to address Andromeda. "You'll be alright?"
She met his eyes, looking despondent again. "We will see you at the funeral, Mr. Potter. Take care."
--**--**--**--
Mr. Weasley was the one to collect Harry from the Hospital Wing later that evening, along with Ron and Hermione, who had found him only to be shoved into the beds next to him for their own treatments. Those seriously injured in the battle had long since been transported to St. Mungo's, but the walking wounded who preferred the healing power of sleep to potions the day before trickled in and out while he lay there dozing. The Hospital Wing was in reality only a quarter of the size it typically would be, considering the damage done by the raging giants. But Professor Flitwick had cast expansion charms on the room and closed the space to the elements to keep the wing sterile.
They took the Knight Bus to the Burrow. The Hogwarts floo system had been damaged along with the wards and none of them felt like apparating in this state.
The next few days blurred together in bouts of increasingly fitful rest as their bodies healed but their emotions continued to fracture. Harry felt the need to do something, not wanting to give his mind time to wander. He and Fleur took over the task of meal preparation, as Mrs. Weasley hardly left her room. When he wasn't cooking or cleaning or wearing a path around the edge of the Burrow's property, he was with Ginny and George. They didn't say much, but took comfort in each other's presence. Ron and Hermione were inseparable, and after months on top of each other during their endless camping trip, Harry couldn't begrudge them a little distance. Mr. Weasley and Percy were called upon to help the Ministry sort through the crisis. Charlie and Bill would disappear for hours and often returned with a fresh bandage or a limp, expressions grim.
The funerals had begun, the times and locations of the public funerals were published in a special edition of the Daily Prophet. The obituaries varied in length and quality, some featuring photos and others no more than dates of birth and surviving family members. Harry attended the funerals of the DA and Order members and Hogwarts staff. There were names he didn't know and faces he didn't recognise amongst the dead. He felt like his attendance would be seen as somehow disingenuous, so he stayed away. He couldn't have gone to every funeral unless he had a time turner, anyway, as many overlapped.
Colin's had been the first. There was nothing romantic about the way Ginny had gripped his hand during the eulogy or tucked her face to his chest, sobbing, as they played his favourite song. Harry struggled to keep his composure, remembering a DA meeting where Colin had played the album on repeat, insisting it would help everyone focus. He played the song so often in the common room, Fred -unirkable and slow to anger, Fred - had threatened to break the record over Colin's head if he didn't stop.
Harry had never been as drunk as he was after Lavender's funeral. Seamus had insisted the seventh year Gryffindors drink to her memory together. She had never wanted their parties to end, either. The four of them stumbled into the Burrow the next morning, hungover - or in Harry's case, still drunk - and coaxed out the first spark of Mrs. Weasley's particular brand of mothering as she shouted, "Where have you been?!"
Harry had stumbled into her, placing a finger to her lips. "Ssshhhhh! Ginny has a hea-hic-headache. You can yell a'tus t'morrow. Pr'mise." Then he stifled a burp. "Sorry we didnae invi' choo. Next time, yeah?" He hadn't felt the collective cringe of the other assembled Weasleys, but Mrs. Weasley just patted his cheek with a little laugh of 'foolish boy' and sent them to bed.
It was a relief to have Fred's funeral over with. The tension at the Burrow had mounted because waiting was unbearable. They buried him in the Weasley family plot next to his grandparents Septimus and Cedrella Weasley. Nearly every one Harry knew in the wizarding world - those he liked, at any rate - were there to pay respects. Lee Jordan spoke on behalf of the Weasley family, and Oliver and Angelina helped Verity set off a fantastical fireworks show. They one-upped each other with ever-more ridiculous stories of Fred, some new to Harry and some old favourites. Fred's funeral truly was a celebration of his life and a testament to his character, even if every laugh pierced their soul a little. Despite the overwhelming grief, it was the closest thing he'd experienced to fun since Remus burst into Shell Cottage with a photo of his son and a proud smile. He wasn't the only one that lingered, savouring the feeling even through their despair.
Andromeda chose to have a memorial service for Remus, Tonks, and her husband, Ted, since at the time of his death they hadn't been able to make arrangements beyond a burial with so many close friends in hiding. Harry recognised the Order members, teachers, and various students, though many had chosen to attend the funeral of two former Hufflepuffs who had graduated three years ago that Harry only vaguely recognised. Andromeda had let Harry stay with Teddy in his nursery after he'd been fed and fallen asleep. There were still people loitering in the garden, sharing their favourite memories of Tonks and Ted. Remus had seemed almost an afterthought to some, but he supposed anyone outside of the Order or Hogwarts likely hadn't known him well. He wasn't even sure what Andromeda and Ted thought of their only daughter's marriage. He resolved to make sure that Teddy grew up knowing Remus.
Andromeda looked in on Teddy hours later, where she got to see the direct aftermath of Harry's first attempt to change a nappy. He had expected the nappy to be soiled in a completely different manner than it was. Babies pooped, but he had been a bit shocked by the yellow, almost mucous-like goo in the nappy. He had fumbled too long with cleaning his bum and finagling the fresh nappy that the little man had peed on himself just a little bit. Harry was horrified, thinking that somehow Teddy would hold it against him for life. He could imagine a shorter, teenage version of Remus with Tonks' voice and mannerisms. "Yeah, well, what do you know Uncle Harry? You once made me pee on myself. Does that sound like someone responsible? No."
She looked at him, frantically apologising to the newborn as he wiped him down with an excessive number of wipes, and she judged him. He could tell. She shooed him out of the way and made quick work of the nappy. She put a fresh onsie on him, rocked and bounced him out of the room to her own bedroom, where she had set up a bassinet.
Harry hovered awkwardly in the doorway, not realising she intended to sleep, as well. "Er, sorry. Did you, er, need anything else?"
"No. You can see yourself out?" she asked, not unkindly, just exhausted.
"Yeah," he said, hesitating then, "er, have a good night, Mrs. Tonks."
He walked down the stairs toward the garden he and Hagrid had crash landed in ten months previous, but the sight of the sitting room and kitchen stopped him up short. There was a mess of glasses, cups, plates, empty bottles, and crumpled napkins on the tables and floor. Uncovered platters of finger food sat on the table in the dining room, and dishes were piled on the counters and in the sink. The house was empty of everyone else. He had helped cleanup at the other funerals where they'd hosted a reception at the family's home. He flicked an imperturbable charm at the doorway to the stairs, took off his outer robe and began cleaning. He'd never consider leaving all this on Andromeda when she had enough to deal with already.
It was hours of mindless scrubbing. Once the dishes and trash had been sorted, Harry turned his attention to the floor. He could have used a scouring charm to eliminate the muddy footprints from the glossy wooden floorboards, but he chose to fill a mop bucket and scrub them clean on his hands and knees.
Looking around the gleaming rooms of Mrs. Tonks home, it still didn't feel like enough. So he returned to the kitchen and prepared a small casserole dish of shepherd's pie. After cleaning up his mess, he left a note on the counter with baking instructions and the reminder to call him at the Burrow if she or Teddy needed anything. He finally removed the imperturbable charm, put out the lights, locked the doors, and apparated to the Burrow.
--**--**--**--
Charlie Weasley was predicted to need four or five days of treatment at St. Mungo's, but according to the healers he was lucky to be alive, considering the other two with him hadn't made it. The waiting room was tense as they waited for word from Bill. They'd always assumed the brothers were working together to track down the Death Eaters, but both had proven themselves good leaders and were heading their own team of volunteers. When the eldest brother did appear, he was mobbed by Mr. Weasley of all people. Mrs. Weasley had slumped in her chair relieved, and Bill had to go to her to offer comfort.
The situation outside of the Burrow had passed largely unacknowledged by Harry, Ron, Hermione, George, and Ginny. Their responsibilities laid so heavily in grieving and helping their friends grieve. The losses at the final battle had skewed toward the younger generation, but Charlie's injuries rekindled Harry's need to do something. He may not have been destiny-bound to save the world anymore, but he would never be the sort to walk away. Ron and Hermione weren't feeling as charitable, so it was George that joined Harry in a Ministry training day at the end of which they were both deputised into the Volunteer Auror Corps.
The requirements for the VAC were simply a demonstration of competence with select defensive and offensive spells, a vetting process to screen for known criminals, and a physical. Ginny had cursed the trace five-times over, not wanting to be left behind. Again.
Harry ended up on a team led by Hestia Jones, along with a well-built, good-natured, Nigerian-born man in his thirties named Obafemi. They spent most of their time tracking down leads, and had only one minor scuffle under their belts after two weeks patrolling for Death Eaters.
The most-wanted Death Eaters were Rabastan Lestrange, Thorfinn Rowle, Lorne Travers, Everett Jugson, the Carrows, Baron Mulciber, Marcus Selwyn, and Fenrir Greyback. There were other lesser known Death Eaters and those who persecuted muggleborns with the backing of the corrupt Ministry that would be held responsible for their crimes, if found. Dean Thomas was part of the team that flushed out Dolores Umbridge, and it seemed like some form of justice that the woman who had forced his friends out of school, away from their families, into life on the run was bound and captured by a muggle-born, a werewolf, a daughter of a squib, and a wizard who couldn't prove his blood status either way. To top the story off, they had located her off a tip from an independently minded house elf.
Dean would be drinking free for a while if the enthusiasm of the DA members that night was any indication. Everyone loves a home-grown hero.
Harry had begun visiting Andromeda and Teddy two or three times a week, as his VAC rotation allowed. He always arrived on the premise of bringing by a hot dish for her. Mrs. Weasley was back in the kitchen most days, which was a relief to the Weasley family, even if the food was a bit bland or burned at times. It was a step in the right direction. She was smothering Charlie, who had fully recovered in hospital, but had restricted his VAC duties to desk work to appease his mother, at least for a few weeks.
Teddy grew and developed between every visit. There were new sounds, new facial expressions, a new spark of wonder in his eyes, and new challenges for Harry to master. He knew how to give the boy a bath, soothe his colic, play peek-a-boo, administer tummy time, and he'd learned a few Irish folk songs to sing the little boy to sleep. He didn't fumble the bum cleaning after the first nappy change, though he hadn't cinched the nappy tight enough on one occasion and Teddy squirmed his way out of it leaving a mess. Harry would often heat up a meal and let Andromeda retreat to her room for a few hours of quiet. He even stayed the night once when the glass of wine she'd poured herself for a long soak in the bath became two bottles. She had been embarrassed the next morning, remembering Harry having to help her into bed after she'd thrown the bottle against the tiled bathroom wall and fallen sobbing to the floor as the water drained.
Andromeda was the sort of person that took care of other people. Harry had been shocked that for all the home had been filled with close friends at the memorial, they had left the house in such a messy state. He couldn't forgive them, even if he now understood that Andromeda did the fussing and she never wanted help. So Harry felt like he had proven himself to some extent when she asked for a favour for the first time ever. He just wished it hadn't involved clearing out Remus and Tonks' cottage. She had been by before to gather items for Teddy's nursery, but she had only taken what she needed. Together they sorted through clothes, keeping and preserving certain pieces for Teddy. Andromeda didn't begrudge Harry snagging a few jumpers to remember Remus by for himself. They packed up the dishes, food, and furniture, which Harry took to a donation centre. The personal items were packed with care, some bound for the attic, and others bound for Teddy's room. Andromeda was able to drift out to the garden anytime she was overwhelmed, and Teddy remained blissfully ignorant of their emotional struggles that day.
--**--**--**--
Harry was both surprised and not surprised the day he realised the Weasley family, outside of Ron, had been completely unaware of the weeks he and Ginny had dated at the end of his sixth year. Ginny hadn't been one to shout about her love life to her family, which was likely the product of having six ridiculously protective older brothers. But he also assumed that information had made its way to her family considering how many people at Hogwarts had known about them.
He received a rather cold reception in the Burrow kitchen when he returned from another pedantic day as a VAC. His immediate thought was something had happened to Ron and Hermione on their trip to Australia.
"What's happened?" he asked anxiously, looking to Mr. Weasley, but Ginny was the one to answer.
"They know about us. There was an article in Witch Weekly. With pictures," she said in a bitter voice. "Apparently enough time has passed since all our friends died they don't need to worry about being respectful anymore."
"Oh," Harry chuckled, relieved. "I thought something bad happened." He made to sit at his usual spot at the table, across from Ginny, but George, who had taken to sitting next to him at meal times, slammed the chair back into its spot as soon as he pulled it out. Taken aback by the glares being sent his way, Harry looked to Ron for help before remembering he and Hermione weren't there.
"George!" Ginny hissed. Her arms were folded across her chest and he imagined her fingers were itching to throw hexes.
"I think we all have some questions for you," Mr. Weasley said.
"I already told you what happened. You're being ridiculous!" Ginny snapped.
"Only after you were outed in a tabloid," George retorted.
"Oh, get a grip! All of you!" she exclaimed, jumping to her feet. "We broke up over a year ago and none of you even noticed, so it clearly isn't worth this sort of fuss. I'm fine. Harry's fine. Ron didn't punch him. We're obviously still friends. It's none of your concern!"
"Go upstairs, Ginny."
She turned to her mother, caught between obeying to keep her mother happy and raging at the injustice of it all. The latter won out. "No, you go upstairs, Mum."
"Ginevra, do not take that tone with your mother," Mr. Weasley cut in, sternly.
"I'll take whatever tone I want when you're being unfair. Harry hasn't done anything wrong. We dated for a few weeks. It didn't work out between us and that shouldn't change anything."
"It's fine, Gin. I don't want you fighting each other," Harry said, shrinking inward as she snapped back.
"Blow it out your rear end, Harry. I won't let anyone tell me who I can and can't date, and I won't stand you lot thinking you can have a go at my ex on my behalf. You haven't done anything like this for anyone the boys have dated. Hell, Ron and Hermione have been fucking like rabbits upstairs and you practically pushed them out the door with a bag of gold to have a nice holiday in Australia!"
"I will not have you using that sort of language in my house! And we aren't talking about what your brothers are up to or their romantic engagements. We are talking about yours. You are underage -"
"For another five weeks!"
"-and we've been housing your boyfriend,-"
"EX-boyfriend!"
"-leaving you unsupervised, and doing Merlin-knows-what under this roof! We expected honesty from both of you," Mr. Weasley yelled, face flushed, standing at the opposite end of the table.
"I haven't lied to you and neither has Harry. And 'doing Merlin-knows-what?' Really?" Ginny challenged hotly. "We've kept this place clean and stocked. Harry's bought all our groceries and cooked half the meals since he got here. When would we even have time to do 'Merlin-knows-what?' He's never here! And when he is, he's cooking for Andromeda or distracting George or helping Fleur or playing quidditch or trying to fucking learn to knit for some stupid reason."
"That's not the point!"
"Then what is the point!"
"IT'S INAPPROPRIATE, GINNY!" Mr. Weasley roared.
"BOLLOCKS! YOU JUST DON'T TRUST ME!"
"IT ISN'T YOU I DON'T TRUST!"
"What?" Harry asked, quietly, his voice betraying his hurt. He had shrunk in on himself as the family argued. Mr. Weasley wasn't the sort to yell and he'd certainly never had cause to be anything but friendly to Harry in the past.
"I'm not a virgin, but that's not on Harry," Ginny spat venomously at her father. Mrs. Weasley, who had started quietly crying during the exchange, gasped in her seat. "You should want my other boyfriends to have been half as decent as him."
A brief unnatural hush fell on the kitchen before Mr. Weasley ordered, "go to your room!"
"NO!"
"NOW!"
Ginny threw her chair into the table, letting it bounce back and fall to the floor in a clatter. She didn't glance back as she stomped up the stairs and slammed her door. The sound of something solid hitting a wall and falling to the floor in a clatter echoed around the kitchen, as well as a few muffled curses and possibly a kicked trunk before an eerie silence descended on the Burrow.
Harry stayed rooted to the spot. Ginny had slept with someone? Was that before or after him? He hadn't even thought to ask if she'd done anything with Dean or Michael. Could he and Ginny have been that close if he'd asked? No. He'd been pushing it with Ron's blessing in the first place. And besides that, she'd been fifteen. He hadn't wanted to take advantage. She'd been studying for OWLs at the time, and he had done his best to help her and keep her focused. Besides that, they hadn't been together that long and the snogging was brilliant. Why would he push his luck when just talking to her on walks around the lake, stealing kisses as they went, were some of the happiest times of his life?
She was right, though. They weren't together. He was still decidedly her ex-boyfriend. They hadn't talked about it in all the weeks they'd been at the Burrow. They had an unspoken understanding that now was not the time. The grief was too fresh. The war was over but the fighting continued. She would be heading back to Hogwarts and Harry wouldn't be. It wasn't a good time to start something, so they hadn't.
But who had caught her eye in the mean time? Was it at Hogwarts this last year? Was it a fling from one of the parties he knew she snuck out to sometimes? Had she chosen it or was the decision made for her? He knew life at Hogwarts was far from safe, but did that mean...? Was it possible...?
"Oi! Potter."
He jumped when George punched his arm, hard, to get his attention. Mr. Weasley had been speaking to him, but he hadn't heard.
"I'm sorry. What did you say?" he asked in a low voice.
Mr. Weasley was glowering at Harry. When he spoke again, his tone was cold. "What are your intentions with my daughter, Harry." Every set of eyes on him - all the Weasley men - were stony. Fleur's cheeks were hot as she glared at Bill, who was ignoring her in favour of scowling at Harry. She clearly didn't like this, but wasn't stepping in to run interference. Mrs. Weasley had put her head in her hands, like she wanted to block out everything that was happening around her.
Harry's chest ached. This was supposed to be his family, too. They'd all said it at one time or another. He cleared his throat. It isn't you I don't trust. "We're friends. It... it isn't like that."
"Isn't like what?" George growled.
"I haven't... I wouldn't-"
"Yeah, right." George muttered, dismissively.
"I don't think I'm comfortable with this arrangement," Mr. Weasley said in a clipped voice.
"What arrangement?" Harry asked, his heart dropping.
"You living here. It's not appropriate. We can't be here to watch you all the time. Ginny is still in school. She has a future ahead of her and I'll be damned if I let something happen to her now." Mr. Weasley's tone was final. "I think it would be best if you stayed with Bill until you can make other arrangements."
"You want me to leave?" He didn't care how his voice cracked.
"Yes. I think it's for the best."
Harry stared another moment. No one shifted or cleared their throat to come to his defence. He took a breath and held it, squaring his shoulders. There was nothing to argue. It was their house. He was only one of their son's friends, after all. He was of age. He wasn't their responsibility and Ginny was. He walked up the stairs to Ron's room, not making any unnecessary noises. His rucksack was easy to pack. He'd had to discard most of his clothes after a year of living rough. He had two spare VAC uniforms in addition to the one he was wearing and a few clothes from Remus' closet Andromeda had helped him resized. His most treasured possessions were still packed in the moleskin pouch around his neck. He left a note for Ron, hoping that he wouldn't react like his brothers or parents.
He took one last look at the bright orange room before he closed the door. He didn't want to stay with Bill. If the look Fleur had given her husband was any indication, his presence there would only cause friction between the couple. Was Grimmauld Place in any fit state? Could he stay with Seamus for a night? Or Neville? He knew where both lived, now. Luna wasn't too far, but he was fairly certain she and her dad were on holiday. Should he risk letting a room in Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade? Would Obafemi let him stay for a few nights? Could he go to Andromeda?
He faltered on the steps as the reality dawned on him.
I'm homeless. I've been homeless for a year.
Hermione had taken the tent with them to Australia. They didn't have much spending money, and that was with the money Harry had forced on them since he couldn't come with to help. Of course this had to happen when they were gone.
He would figure it out. He'd been alone most of his life. He could handle this.
Ginny's door opened a crack as he passed.
"Where are you going?" she asked, accusing.
He didn't meet her eyes as he whispered, "they've asked me to leave."
He expected a sharp intake of breath and a stamped foot, then another bout of yelling and raging downstairs. He didn't expect her to turn her head away to stare at the door frame as her lip quivered and her eyes filled. "I'm so sorry, Harry."
"Don't be. I'll be fine."
"It's not fine. Don't say it's fine, because it's not." He nodded absently, then remembered his train of thought earlier.
"Ginny?" he asked, tentatively. "I know it's not my business, but what you said about, you know... having sex. I was just... I wanted to...."
"We aren't together," she stated in warning.
He took a deep breath and looked her in the eye. "I know that. I'm not trying to pry, like.... I can only imagine how fucked up things were at Hogwarts this year, and I just.... Was it your choice? Are you okay?"
She blinked rapidly. "Oh. Yeah." She cleared her throat. "Yes to both."
He smiled half-heartedly. "One less person to track down, then."
She let out a short, wet chuckle. She scuffed her toe against the floor, not looking at Harry again. "It was Colin. I snuck out from Auntie Muriel's whenever she was being awful. It just...happened once."
He nodded, surprised and not surprised at once. "You didn't have to tell me. But, I'm glad it wasn't some tosser. Colin's a good guy. He was, I mean. He always seemed like-"
"He was a good friend."
An awkward silence passed between them. Harry's brows furrowed and he let slip a thought he would have kept to himself on any normal day. "How did you sneak out? Colin didn't have a floo, did he?"
Ginny snorted. "You aren't the only one who's made friends with a house elf."
A slow smile stretched across his face. "Can you imagine Dobby trying to set up a booty call for me?"
"Oh god, I can. What about Kreacher?"
A throat clearing interrupted their laughter. Mr. Weasley and Bill were standing at the foot of the stairs, waiting for him.
Harry's face fell and he waved half-heartedly to his ex and one of his closest friends. "Sorry. I'll see you around, Gin."
"Bye, Harry."
--**--**--**--
Harry stayed at Grimmauld Place for the first week after being kicked out. It had taken all his skills as a VAC to create a safe path to Sirius' old room. Yaxley may not have been able to bring anyone else into the house after hitching a ride with Hermione in their escape from the Ministry because of the Fidelius, but he certainly was thorough in his hexing and jinxing and trapping. Kreacher had returned to help him, somehow able to sense as soon as he crossed the threshold to the Black family house. The Weasley's hadn't protested too hard when he refused to stay at Shell Cottage, which further twisted the knife in his chest. He took a day to wallow and clean, then he volunteered for as many hours as he could, choosing to keep himself busy with the VAC. He split his time between two teams now. Hestia was only able to patrol three evenings a week once she started working again, and Obafemi's job at the Ministry had been reinstated, which restricted his free time, as well.
Harry was now working with Auror Savage and Sturgis Podmore nearly every day. The benefit of working with an auror was that his shifts were much more exciting. By the end of his first week he'd been in four scuffles, all of which led to an arrest, and they had followed up on a major lead on Mulciber, but they only managed to find his abandoned hide out.
He had received a few letters from Ginny, care packages from Mrs. Weasley and Fleur, and a note from Andromeda asking after him. He had abandoned his schedule with Teddy without warning. At first, he reasoned that it would be rude to arrive without his standard casserole dish, and then he was honest with himself that he didn't want her to see him wallowing. But his guilt got the better of him and he spent the evening with Andromeda and Teddy, enjoying a takeaway meal for a change.
Let it never be said that baby cuddles can't mend a broken heart. Andromeda didn't press him on what happened, but by his third visit she had figured out the story.
"You'd be more than welcome here, Harry."
He looked at her sceptically. "Surely you wouldn't want to give up your privacy?"
"I feel the opposite, actually. I hate the quiet. Ted and Dora were never the quiet sort." She sighed sadly. "But I understand if you want your privacy. Should that change, even if it's just an occasional night, you are welcome here." She smiled at him, one that managed to reach her eyes. "I appreciate you being here for me and Teddy. Dora and Remus would never have seen you turned out, and I don't intend to, either."
He returned her smile, shyly. "I think I'll take you up on that, if you're sure."
--**--**--**--
Harry spent his second true birthday party with Teddy and Andromeda. Ginny floo'd over after dinner for a bit of cake and the promise to Andromeda to get him out of the house for a bit of fun. She had brought tidings from Ron and Hermione, who hadn't thought to send a letter directly to Harry since they assumed he was still at the Burrow with everyone. They hadn't managed any progress in reversing the memory charm so far, having located her parents a few days prior. Hermione was consulting a specialist hospital in Melbourne and Ron was diligently trying to help her sort through healer journals for any clues, much like he had before Buckbeak's appeal.
The Weasley house was still tense following Harry's departure. Ginny had made her displeasure known, and wasn't trying to hide her ever more frequent night time excursions. Harry wouldn't have cared, except the Weasley men all seemed to assume she was sneaking out to see Harry, not drink herself silly with the DA. Bill and Charlie glared at him across rooms whenever their VAC shifts overlapped, and George made a point to knock shoulders if they passed each other. Harry joined the DA parties occasionally, but he was more content spending time with Teddy. He needed to be useful.
--**--**--**--
He was useful, but not in the way he had ever intended when he moved in with Andromeda.
A few days into August, after one of his night shifts with Hestia and Obafemi, he was just climbing into his bed after checking on Teddy, when he heard a tinkle from downstairs. He was dead tired from a double-shift and was ready to dismiss the noise, but then he felt the fluttering against his magical core. A tell-tale sign of a homenum revelio.
He reacted on instinct.
"Expecto Patronum" he whispered, conjuring Prongs. "Go to Bill Weasley, Shell Cottage. Bill, someone's broken into Andromeda's. Send help."
Harry pulled the invisibility cloak out of his moleskin pouch covering himself and padding across the hall to Andromeda's room. "Silencio," he whispered, casting on Andromeda, then shaking her awake roughly. "Someone's downstairs." Her eyes widened in alarm and she slid out of bed, automatically setting her feet into slippers. Harry handed her the invisibility cloak and her wand. "Take this, get yourself and Teddy to safety. I've already called Bill."
She nodded without argument before disappearing under the cloak. Harry peaked through the crack in the door. A hulking figure was carefully walking up the stairs, visible from the chest up. "Lumos solem!" Harry cried, flooding the landing in a bright light. The men on the stairs stumbled back shielding their eyes, and Harry silently cast the knock-back jinx at the leader. Fenrir Greyback hurtled down the stairs, taking down two cloaked figures below. The werewolf quickly sprung back to his feet, though the shorter man below him was slow to stand. Harry's wand moved furiously, casting silently, keeping up a series of shields that stopped the intruder's progress. There was no other way downstairs, so unless Andromeda risked apparating with a three month old, which every baby book warned against, her options were flying out a window, jumping out the window with a strong cushioning charm and escaping on foot, or waiting it out, hoping Harry and the Order could protect them.
He'd promised to keep Teddy safe.
The Death Eaters gained a step. Steps! Hermione, you beautiful, brilliant witch. "Glisseo."
The three Death Eaters collapsed as the steps disappeared into a slide. They began to stand where they landed in the middle of the sitting room. "Depulso!" He cried, sending the sofa crashing into them, using a sticking charm to keep them occupied for a moment longer. "KREACHER! Protego!"
With a crack, Kreacher was at his side. Harry threw up another shield. "Andy's in the nursery with Teddy. Protego! Protect them. Get them out if you can. Keep them safe. Please, Kreacher, go!"
The elf cracked away and a fainter crack sounded down the hall. Harry continued throwing jinxes at the Death Eaters below. He was taking advantage of the high ground, but he lost sight of a Death Eater that darted for cover in the kitchen.
Chunks of the ceiling fell around him. He hadn't wanted to cast destructive curses in Andromeda's house, but the Death Eaters felt no such qualms.
A creak from behind him was his only warning. He side-stepped the curse cast at his back, hitting the Death Eater with a stunner, but not before a bone breaker hex hit his leg from the Death Eaters below. He yelled in pain as he collapsed onto the wooden slide, but his adrenaline let him stay present enough to cast a shield as he slid head first to the ground floor.
Fenrir Greyback lunged out from behind the sofa. He had stuffed his wand in his belt, preferring to use his strength, claws, and animalistic nature to maul people. Like Bill and Lavender. And Remus.
"Flipendo!" Harry cried, sending Greyback across the room. Would Andromeda ever forgive him if he destroyed her house?
Fuck it, we'll find out.
In quick succession, Harry cast silently Bombarda, the screamed "PROTEGO!"
The sofa exploded sending splinters in to the werewolf sat atop it, and the Death Eater crouched behind cried out in pain. Harry could see through his shield before the dust and splinters obscured the scene. Greyback recovered quickly and was lunging through the dust, singed fabric, and floating fluff.
"Depulso!" Harry yelled, frantic for some space between himself and the monster. His spell wasn't very effective, so Harry cast it repetitively, sending objects from around the sitting room crashing into Greyback. Teddy's playpen, a grandfather clock, the arm chair, wireless, and even a set of shoes Harry hastily enlarged to comical size hurtled into the man. It did little more than rile him up further. The Death Eater had used the distraction to crawl into the kitchen for cover. He had apparently recovered enough to start throwing hexes at Harry, as well. Harry was still slumped in an awkward position at the foot of the stairs, and having to deflect advances from opposite sides of the room was not going to end well for him.
Where the fuck is the Order?
"Reducto!" Harry blasted the potted plants that partially shielded the Death Eater in the kitchen, and the man recoiled, just as a snarl pierced the air from Harry's right. Greyback threw Teddy's activity quilt at him, obstructing Harry's view for precious moments as the werewolf attacked. The quilt was flicked to the side only for Harry to be confronted with Greyback's most sadistic gleam.
"IMPEDIMENTA!" Harry cried once more, but the man had too much momentum to be stopped outright. Panicked, knowing he was seconds away from a brutal mauling, Harry screamed, "DIFFINDO!"
He didn't know what possessed him to use that spell. He knew already that the werewolf was not easily affected by stunning charms, but a severing charm wasn't necessarily the logical next step. Harry's wand movements were difficult and uncontrolled from his spot on the floor. He had wanted to take out Greyback's legs, something Moody had lectured at length about what seemed like a lifetime ago. He missed horribly, yet wonderfully, and he came to that realisation as hot, thick blood splattered onto his face and body, and a head hit the floor with a hefty thunk!
Greyback's body seemed to take an age to fall, seemingly held aloft by the force of the blood gushing from his severed neck. Red painted the walls and furniture with macabre finesse. The man collapsed into Ted's prized piano, which Harry hadn't been able to launch at the man earlier even though it was the heaviest and largest item in the room, knowing it's sentimental value to Andromeda. Blood gushed onto the floor, seeping into the rug and pooling under the beloved wooden instrument. It was a horrifying sight, even if the man was a monster and undeniably deserved all the pain Harry could bring to him.
Harry stared, completely stunned at what had happened. A scuttling noise brought his attention back to his situation. The Death Eater in the kitchen was giving Harry a reprieve, even if it was only out of shock, and Harry made to capitalise on the moment. Harry couldn't ignore the throbbing of his broken leg. He'd been taught first aide during his VAC training. He cast a spell to splint his leg, the same Remus had used on Ron after Padfoot broke it chasing after Wormtail. The pain wasn't any less, but he moved anyway. Rolling awkwardly to a seat, he used the banister to stand up.
Where are Bill and the Order? They really should be here by now.
"Homenum revelio," he whispered, not able to focus enough through the pain to cast silently. The Death Eater he had stunned was the only one upstairs and the only other life was huddled deeper in the kitchen. Kreacher must have gotten Andy and Teddy out. Thank Merlin. A headless Greyback was laid out mere meters from Harry, but his presence wasn't registered by the spell. Wait...Holy shit, I just kill Fenrir Greyback?
Harry edged his way to the kitchen, not wanting to think on what he'd done, and not wanting to wait for the fight to come to him. He peered cautiously around the doorway only to jerk quickly back as a jet of orange light passed in front of his nose. The Death Eater was hiding behind the kitchen island. They exchanged curses, ducking behind the island and wall in turns. Where was the Order? Bill wouldn't abandon them out of petty anger, would he? Should he have called Hestia or Sturgis instead? No, he wasn't sure either knew where Andromeda lived.
Deciding to change tactics, Harry charmed the dish towel hanging from the oven handle to fly at the Death Eater and wrap itself tightly around his face. Harry limped forward as quickly as he could, ducking and shielding silently as the man cast wildly while trying to pull the towel away from his face. "Stupefy!" The man slumped back, unconscious. Harry felt a wave of relief knowing all three Death Eaters were incapacitated. He conjured ropes and turned to do the same to the Death Eater upstairs and Greyback, since the reality of his death had yet to sink in.
"Impressive, Mr. Potter." A silky voice drawled behind him. His whole body had stiffened unnaturally, seizing his lungs so he could draw in short, shallow breaths only. His wand slipped backwards through his palm with a murmured 'accio wand.' He was rotated to face two tall, unmasked Death Eaters. Rowle and Travers were standing in Andromeda's kitchen. "We honestly weren't expecting you here. Greyback wouldn't shut up about his 'little orphaned cub,' and we thought, why not? Maybe we could draw you out in the process. You always were a sucker for a rescue mission," Travers sneered.
"I thank you for saving us the trouble. The Weasley house has so many layered wards. Haphazard. Messy, but effective. We figured it would take ages to get at you there, but here? The wards are your standard variety," Rowle gloated.
"Easy if you know how they work," said Travers.
"And as you can see, we do."
"And wouldn't you know, people who can dismantle wards like that can erect wards just as easily?" Travers said, walking closer, surveying Harry.
"It's almost comical, watching your little Order friends frantically try to get their way in here."
"It's truly incredible your side won the war."
"I wouldn't put my money on it happening again."
"No point betting on a race that's been cancelled," Harry said through gritted teeth, anger rising in tandem with his fear. He fought the magic binding him, but it was no use. Rowle was twirling Harry's holly wand in his fingers, smirking. Travers was the one holding Harry still, face twisted in a manic smile.
"I do so love the cheeky ones. Promise you'll keep it up, Potter. Don't want you breaking too soon." Travers winked.
"Crucio!"
Rowle's spell landed true and Harry was writhing in all consuming pain. His thrashing limbs were released from the binding spell, and the pain only grew as his splinted leg slammed into the kitchen island over and over. The two men's laughter and taunting was drowned by Harry's shrieks. He couldn't control himself. The pain wouldn't stop. If he was being ripped open with a blunt saw, he might have been in less pain. He vomited through his clenched jaw, choking as the liquid was trapped by his own teeth.
Then the wild thrashing stopped, and he released his jaw, coughing vomit onto his bare chest.
I'm going to be tortured to death wearing nothing but a ratty pair of boxers. There is no god.
"Go wake up the kid. It's high time he prove himself," Travers said to Rowle, who turned to the sitting room. He stomped up the stairs after reversing Harry's slide charm. "But first, my turn. Crucio."
Travers' curse was worse. There was little point debating the intensity of the spell when even the weakest person can cause pain with it, but Harry had nothing else to focus on. The kid, Otis May - a Ravenclaw two years older than him, did not have a particularly strong curse, but Harry's screams were extracted nonetheless. They had awoken the other man and sent him to keep watch of the Order's progress from the front porch.
It seemed somehow worse that his backup was there, just unable to get to him. At least Andromeda and Teddy are safe. Please let them be safe. Kreacher, too.
As his torture continued, he was sorely tempted to call the house elf to help him again, but knew he'd only get Kreacher killed, like Dobby. He just had to keep it together until the Order broke through. And really, dying wouldn't be the worst thing ever. I have people waiting for me. Teddy will still have Andromeda. Ron, Hermione, and the Weasleys have each other. I could have peace.
He had a plan, though he couldn't put it in action unless the Death Eaters turned away from him. Harry still had Malfoy's wand as a back up in his moleskin pouch. He had repaired his holly wand and preferred using it, but the hawthorn wand was still loyal to him. If they would look away for a few seconds, he could loosen the tie and pull the wand out, blast the kitchen apart or something. Try to make a run for it or put up shields and call Kreacher then. Maybe if he rolled onto his other side, facing away from them he could get it? Or if he turned on his stomach? Would they be able to see what he was doing then? He couldn't afford to give himself away.
Harry gritted his teeth as the unrelenting agony persisted. The two older Death Eaters were giving tips to Otis May, who was admittedly a quick study. They interspersed the cruciatus curse with other little tortures. They slashed deep cuts in his skin and began breaking each bone in his wand hand one by one. Travers produced a small dropper bottle from his robe and had Otis squeeze drops of potion onto his fresh cuts. They watched his face twist in misery as the burning spread and Harry's fingers worked furiously at his flesh trying to wipe away the poison from his blood stream. Then he twitched and shrieked from another round of the cruciatus. They delighted in a particular curse that made him experience the sensations of suffocation even though he knew he was still breathing. He wondered if he was too young for a heart attack or a stroke? Harry wondered if he waited any longer if he'd be able to cast at all for how violently he was shaking. His thoughts were becoming foggy, too, but the Death Eaters made sure he stayed conscious.
Conscious didn't mean coherent, though. His mind took a step back from himself to analyse his situation. He was at the mercy of four men, on the floor in his pants thrashing around in pools of his own blood, urine, vomit, drool, and tears. He was a gory mess. His skin was coated in the muck. He was disgusted with himself. He was utterly humiliated. He thought he had won. He thought there were only three - he had checked! - but Travers and Rowle got the drop on him and made him pay. Moody would have been disappointed. Harry would step off the Afterlife Express to a crowded platform of his waiting family and friends, and Moody would push to the front and scream, "for fuck's sake, boy! CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" And Tonks would appear at his shoulder with her hip popped out to the side and she'd say, "come on now, Mad Eye, not like that'll do him any good here. Wotcher, Harry!" Then Sirius would sweep him up in a hug and introduce him to his parents, who would be lovely and everything he ever dreamed. Colin would be there, camera clicking away, capturing every moment of their tearful reunion. Later on Fred would make him laugh and tell him about all the women in the afterlife, and Remus would rescue him from being set up on a date with Lavender, or heaven forbid, Moaning Myrtle. They'd share a cup of tea in his study - because of course Remus would have a study in the afterlife - and Harry would tell him everything about Teddy he and Tonks had missed in the last two and a half months.
He welcomed those thoughts of the next adventure as his hope of escaping or being rescued drained. These monsters would leave him here in Andromeda's usually pristine kitchen, dead and ruined for his friends to find. Tomorrow's headline would be 'Boy-Who-Lived Bested in Midnight Raid.' He hoped Rita Skeeter wouldn't be the one writing, because surely she'd leave out the detail he was wearing pants and tell the world he scandalously slept in the nude.
"They're making progress," the watch dog shouted from the porch door, bringing Harry back to himself. All three of his torturers walked to the door to inspect the damage to their wards and assess how much time they had left before the Order descended. This was his moment. The hawthorn wand tingled his palm as it settled shakily into place. He used his left hand to wrap the broken digits of his right around his wand and hold steady, taking aim. Harry didn't hesitate to rethink this terrible plan. They had come for his godson, and damn it all he'd promised to keep him safe! He didn't care in that moment if he was caught up in the spell in equal measure, he just wanted the torture to be over and he wanted to keep these monsters from hunting down and torturing anyone else. There had been enough funerals already.
"BOMBARDA MAXIMA!"
--**--**--**--
The dark, swirling cloud of dust that hung around him was a far cry from the white mists that formed King's Cross the last time he died. But he was fairly certain he had died. He'd seen the walls of Andromeda's kitchen explode, watched bodies rip apart as they were pushed violently outwards by the force of his spell, and seen the ceiling collapse on him before the world went black and silent. But it wasn't silent anymore because his ears were ringing. He could hear whimpering and moaning, but it wasn't coming from a misshapen child-like body under a bench. It was coming from himself, he realised, because he was decidedly in pain here, and definitely not clean in all his near-naked state.
He wasn't dead.
He tried to move, but pain shot through him. His leg was still broken, but this was a different sort of hurt. He was laying on his stomach, head resting against the corner base of the kitchen island, and a section of the fractured ceiling was sloping from the counter above to a spot mid-thigh, where the material was cutting into the back of his legs. A large splinter of wood was sticking out of his back and a dark pool of blood had formed below him. His left arm was under his chest, useless for all that it had fallen asleep from the weight of his body. He brought his right arm to his side stiffly, even the isolated motion causing pain to wrack through his whole body. The hawthorn wand had rolled out of his reach; he must have dropped it when he was rendered unconscious. He couldn't see any signs of movement in the gap in the debris in front of him.
Andromeda would not be pleased at the state of her house. He waffled for another moment before making up his mind.
"Kreacher," he croaked, a bubble of blood breaking against his lips as he spoke. The elf appeared with a sharp crack! and stooped into the space between the propped up ceiling and floor.
Kreacher gasped. "Master Harry is wounded," he croaked out, blunt as ever.
"Andy and Ted?" Harry wheezed the question.
"Mistress Andromeda and the little master is being safe at the Lupin cottage," Kreacher said from his knees as he inspected Harry with gentle fingers. "Kreacher is getting them to safety on Master Orion's carpet."
Harry furrowed his brow. "What?"
"The flying carpet from the trunk in the attic. Master Orion was a naughty boy. Always racing his friends. Even after it is being illegal. Kreacher hopes Master Harry is not angry, but they's being safe for babies."
Harry coughed raggedly, spitting out blood, eyes streaming.
"Kreacher is getting Master Harry help now." The old elf was gone with a crack! His eyes drooped, succumbing to the pain once again.
He woke groggily with a pain-filled moan as he was jostled. He opened his eyes expecting the same sight of dark, swirling dust and littered debris, but instead was greeted by a well-lit, jean-clad crotch. The ceiling that had been cutting into his thighs had been moved along with other bits of rubble. The kitchen was artificially lit by free-floating balls of light and a small crowd was hovered over him. Charlie Weasley was kneeling at his head, seemingly unconcerned with the mess of blood, vomit, and dust. On closer inspection, most of the mess had been cleared away and what remained was new blood the healers were attempting to staunch. A ring of faint blue light was at the bottom of Harry's vision; it formed a bubble around his nose and mouth that expanded and contracted in pulses as he breathed. Harry couldn't move his neck to inspect the room further, for firm hands were keeping it in place. He heard Kingsley's deep voice booming instructions and the distinctive crack! of Kreacher apparating. Auror Savage guided a balding brunette man by the shoulders, clearing a path through bits of rubble as they walked with his face upturned, chanting steadily producing a golden cage that wrapped around the walls and conjuring support beams . They moved out of his field of vision just as the hem of a lime green healer's robe passed behind Charlie.
"Got it!" a woman said triumphantly, stepping over his legs and dropping to a place on his other side with a bulging bag, across from the healer working feverishly at his hip. Harry thought there might be more people by his feet, but couldn't be sure with the blue mask obstructing his peripheral vision.
"-have to wait to remove it in theatre or he could bleed out. It's lacerated his kidney."
"Can we wait that long? The wards won't allow us through by portkey."
"We'll get him stable then walk him to the ward boundary if we have to. We can't risk the infection by operating here. Hold him steady while I cut this flush so we can roll him."
Harry felt hands on him and he shuddered, groaning in pain at the contact.
"Harry?" Charlie bent down to look in his eye. "Hanson, he's awake!"
"Hi there Harry, I'm Healer Hanson. We're going to get you ready to move to hospital. We need you to keep still, alright?" Healer Hanson's tone was strained, but commanding as he addressed Harry. He turned back to Charlie. "Keep him steady. Keep him calm, whatever you do."
"You're doing great, Harry. We've got you. Bill and Fleur are still breaking down the wards, but we'll be at St. Mungo's in a jiff. Don't worry, we've got you." Harry squeezed his eyes shut as Charlie spoke while the healers prodded and poked.
"Minister, we've got another one back here!" Savage called, then Kingsley and two sets of legs scrambled through his field of vision as they made for the sitting room. They must have found Greyback.
A chunk of wood was tossed over Hanson's shoulder, followed by pressure and pain radiating from his midsection as his wound was wrapped and tightly secured. "There! Places everyone! Rolling on my count." More hands descended, but before he could start the countdown, a beeping sound he thought had been in his head sped up and the healer cried, "wait, brace!" He felt the familiar seizing of his muscles and his every nerve-ending fired, pulling another broken cry from him as he began to convulse.
"Shit! Shit! Hold him steady!"
"What's happening?" Mr. Weasley's concerned voice asked from somewhere above him, out of sight.
"Cruciatus aftershock," the healer said in a strained voice as he pushed down on Harry's back and hip to keep him still. "Bader! Push another vial!"
Harry must have blacked out, because the next time he woke he was floating on a stretcher and a cloudless night stretched above him. A healer was holding two large, cylindrical glass vials above him, the smaller one a dark red and the larger one a faint translucent purple. The liquids flowed down to his right arm through thin tubes. She walked briskly beside his stretcher. A stiff collar held his head and neck in place. He was on his back and he could see his chest and arms were a mess of gauze pads, bleeding through where the deeper gashes were. A thick splint enveloped his right leg, and his right hand was similarly secured at his side. Thick strips of leather were pulled taut from one side of the stretcher to the other, holding him in place. The team of healers walked in a ring around them, wands illuminating their path and some carrying hastily packed bags of supplies over their shoulders.
The healer carrying the vials noticed his wandering eyes. "He's awake!"
Healer Hanson leaned in with a strained smile. "Hey, kid. We're almost out of here, then we can give you something for the pain. Hold on, just a few more meters."
A bright flash of light burst, then a faint, blurry line of light whisked across the sky. A cry of cheers and whoops sounded in the distance.
"Was that the ward?" The vial healer asked. "Can we go now?"
"I'm not" - crack! - "sure," Healer Hanson said just as Kreacher appeared in front of them.
"The wards are destroyed. Weezy says you may be leaving by portkey or apparition now," the elderly house elf croaked.
"Thank Merlin." The stretcher stopped and he was lowered to the ground. The vial healer set the vials on the stretcher by Harry's shoulder and grabbed one side of the stretcher as Healer Hanson grabbed the other side. The other healers began apparating away in a smattering of pops! Healer Hanson tapped the stretcher with his wand, muttering "spell damage surgery, Healer Hanson, ID 2674," and the stretcher glowed blue as they spiralled away.
The bright white halls of St. Mungo's appeared and Harry was quickly levitated onto a bed, where the vials were attached to a rod above him and he was sped down a corridor. Healer Hanson shouted out orders to the assembled healers as they moved Harry into theatre. Two more vials were hung above him, lurid green and midnight blue, and the tubing was spliced with the others already attached to his arm. His eyes felt heavy seconds later and he mercifully drifted off.
--**--**--**--
He floated in and out, never quite waking, for an indeterminate amount of time. The steady beeping was a constant sound around him. He heard people speaking in low voices, though he couldn't register their words or who they might be. He vaguely felt hands in his hand, but couldn't muster the presence of mind to squeeze back. He heard the clicking and scraping of knitting needles, out of sync with the beeping in the silence. He recognised Teddy's cries briefly, knowing it was his hungry cry demanding a bottle, but when he fluttered his eyes open, he only saw a retreating figure and a door closing. He heard a male voice call his name, but he was already under again.
--**--**--**--
Was the beeping really necessary? Was there really no other way in all of the magical world for them to track his heart beat? Did he have to hear it? Why couldn't they silence it? Or was the point of it to annoy him into waking up? Had that ever worked? Madam Pomfrey had never resorted to anything that beeped, so it seemed like it must be a choice. Bastards.
--**--**--**--
Hermione was sniffling. He'd recognise her sniffles anywhere. He'd heard them enough in the weeks after Ron left to know with certainty it was her sitting by his bed.
Had they been called back from Australia? Was Ron here, too? How long had he been out? God, he'd missed them.
He felt his face twitch, but he couldn't open his eyes. He wanted to see her, though. He wanted her to know he was still there and she didn't need to cry. He thought he could feel pressure in his palm, meaning someone was holding his hand, but his limbs were so heavy. He couldn't seem to connect his brain to his body to make his fingers move. This is so frustrating. MOVE, DAMNIT!
His fingers didn't move, but a pathetically weak groan escaped his chest.
Silence. Then frantic scrambling to stand.
"Harry?" Ron's voice sounded by his right ear and a warm hand gently shook his shoulder.
Hermione's colder hand touched his face, then carded through his hair. "Harry? Can you open your eyes?"
He tried, but he couldn't.
Ron's voice called more insistently. "Harry. Harry, mate. Wake up, come on. Please."
He tried so hard he was surprised he hadn't pushed out a fart with the effort of trying. Instead only a choked, sob-like groan sprung straight from his chest again.
"Ron, go get the healer," Hermione said urgently. "He sounds in pain."
He heard Ron's long strides carry him away and he wanted to call him back. He wanted to wake up. He just needed the numbness to fade. Hermione continued carding her fingers through the hair at his temple. "We're right here, Harry. Hold on. Help is coming. Just rest."
He groaned again and a tear leaked out onto his cheek, which Hermione quickly wiped away. "I'm so sorry, Harry. Help is coming, I promise."
Ron returned with a healer, who himmed and hawed as he checked him with hands colder than Hermione's. Harry was rolled onto his side so he could inspect the dressings on his back, but he was laid back in place moments later.
"He shouldn't be in any pain considering his potions regimen. This could be him trying to wake up. It's best he rest longer, though, so I'll give him a mild sleep draught." NO! THAT'S THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I WANT!
His protest came out as a pitiful moan. "I think he can hear us," the healer chuckled in an undertone. He actually chuckled, then raised his voice. "It's not time yet, Mr. Potter. Sweet dreams."
Sod off.
--**--**--**--
He did wake up, though. He couldn't be sure how much later it was, but it was still Ron and Hermione in his dimly-lit room. The only light was coming from a small lamp in the corner by an empty armchair. There were no other beds and the space was small, so Harry was in a private room like Charlie had been in after the attack in June. Hermione was curled up on a small cot, low to the ground, with a Weasley quilt pulled up to her chin. Ron was sitting next to him with his elbows on the bed and his face buried in his hands. Harry couldn't tell if he was sleeping. His posture seemed too stiff for sleep, but he was probably resting in some form, so he didn't want to bother him, yet.
Harry could feel his body better this time. The numbness wasn't as strong, but his limbs still felt heavy. A Weasley quilt covered his lower half up to his hips. Thick bandages were stuck to his torso and arms, only slivers of skin visible between them. His swollen right hand was secured in a metal cage-like contraption with thin wires holding his fingers securely in place, and he thought he could feel the sharp twinges he associated with Skele-Gro.
He focused on his feet. Lumps covered in hand-stitched fabric. He wanted to wiggle his toes. He stared and stared, trying to detect the slightest movement of the quilt in the low light. YES! IT WORKED!
He focused on his left hand and his index finger twitched, then shot up and back down with a crisp plop! He moved each finger and flexed his hand open and closed again.
Ron shifted a little, but hadn't seemed to catch the movement. That was okay though. He didn't want to disturb him if he couldn't speak. That would be mean, right?
Harry tried to swallow. His tongue felt swollen and thick as it tried to remember how to move properly. His mouth and jaw moved in tandem and Harry licked his dry, cracked lips. Here goes nothing.
"Ron." It came out a wet rasp. The 'r' was lost, so it was mostly a long 'uhn.'
He swallowed thickly and tried again. "Ron."
Ron's head snapped up from his hands this time, their eyes meeting for a long moment before Ron leapt to his feet and stood over Harry. His hands gripped either side of Harry's face. Harry pulled his lips up in a weak smile and said in a grunt, "hey."
Ron's face crumpled. His shoulders heaved with gut-wrenching sobs. He leaned over Harry awkwardly, their foreheads touching. Tears dropped onto Harry's face and he pulled his good arm up on instinct, gripping Ron's shoulder. Hermione was there by his side the next instant, pulling his hand away from Ron's shoulder planting a kiss on it as she, too, started crying tears of relief. Harry managed to pull her down for a hug, his hand cupping the back of her head.
"Never ever do that to us again, Harry," she scolded, wetly. "Ever!" Ron had pulled away, placing a hand on his upper arm but raised the other hand to his eyes as his tears persisted.
He punched Harry's arm lightly. "So" - sob- "worried."
"M'sorry," Harry sighed. Hermione kissed his knuckles again, then walked around the bed to comfort Ron at Harry's beckoning.
He continued sobbing and the odd, heartbreaking words crept out, like "thought I lost you" - "Fred" - "not ready" - "bloody hero" - "need you" - "stupid git!"
Harry kept repeating his apologies, wiping his own tears away as he fought the heaviness in his eyelids.
"Go back to sleep, Harry," Hermione whispered, fondly exasperated.
He shook his head. "'M alright, 'Mione. How're Teddy n'Dromeda?"
"They are both safe and completely unharmed. They'll be by in a few hours, so get some rest!"
"I blew up her house."
"Yeah, mate. Everyone knows," said Ron. "Everyone."
Harry groaned. "Does she hate me?"
"Nah. Seemed a bit more cut up about you than the house. Shocking, I know."
Harry's vision blurred and darkened. "Mmmm, they were there for Teddy. Had to keep'm safe."
"Oh, Harry."
--**--**--**--
Andromeda swatted his head with a burping cloth when he tried to apologise for destroying her house. "The only thing you're allowed to apologise for, young man, is almost dying!"
"Hear, hear!" Ron grumbled from the cot. He and Hermione refused to leave and took it in turns to sleep every two or three hours. As far as Harry had seen, neither had gotten much sleep with the arrangement.
The healers had adjusted his bed so he was sitting up. Andromeda had settled Teddy to Harry's chest with a sling around his shoulders. The weight was uncomfortable against his wounds, but Harry wouldn't complain as Teddy smiled and gurgled up at him. Every touch, every sound, every sight was one more Harry hadn't thought he'd get while under the Death Eater's wands.
"He missed you terribly," Andromeda said. "We both did."
"I'm sorry."
"My sweet boy," she said, kissing the top of his head. "Enough with the apologies. You saved us both. Thank you."
--**--**--**--
The Lupin Cottage became their home while Andromeda's house was repaired. Hermione and Andromeda worked some complex extension charms to add a third bedroom for Harry, as well as a nice space for Kreacher. Getting the elderly house elf to admit what he wanted had been an exercise in patience on Harry's part, but the result left an extra skip in Kreacher's step. The cottage was a small, one-story space with a wild garden.
They spent most of their time on a blanket in the shadow of a sprawling oak tree. Teddy had begun to squirm constantly and could turn himself over from his tummy to his back to his tummy again. He would sometimes prop himself up and look around in wonder, and Harry knew the little man would be crawling in no time. He was also slightly worried that Teddy's first word would be 'Kreacher' because the two were quite taken with each other. It was sweet, really.
They hosted a constant stream of Weasleys, Order and DA members, drinking tea or lemonade, eating bits of cake or finger sandwiches. To his chagrin, he would be on the mend for several weeks yet. He had spent four days unconscious in hospital and another ten being treated. Apparently, regrowing a kidney is fickle business at the best of times. The poison Travers had poured into his wounds drop by drop remained a mystery to the St. Mungo's potioneers, who did not appreciate Harry's less than helpful observation of, "it burned like a bitch, does that narrow it down?"
Whatever the poison was, it caused slow progress in his healing. The deepest wounds were still not fully sealed and he had to change the dressings twice a day. The healed cuts were ugly, purple scars, some of them raised and bumpy. He took more naps than Teddy and found himself eating as much as Ron.
Andromeda had smiled bright when he'd asked for her help letting out his trousers.
The worst part of his recovery were the aftershocks. He'd experienced several a day immediately after the incident, which had left the Weasleys rattled, seeing him thrash and scream in his hospital bed, still unconscious. He had been laughing with Ginny about the result of a professional quidditch match when the first aftershock hit that he could remember. The pain of the curse was real even if no one was there to cast it. The only medicine that seemed to help were muggle muscle relaxants and Harry hated how they made him feel, from the drowsiness to the constipation. The healers couldn't predict how long the aftershocks would haunt him. From the time Bill and Fleur received his Patronus to the time they saw the front wall of Andromeda's house explode was nearly four hours. It was just over five hours before the Death Eater's wards were broken down.
That was a lot of torture, and the cruciatus curse was unforgivable for a reason. Even when he wasn't experiencing an aftershock, Harry's legs would give out randomly, things would slip through his fingers without warning, or he would stop talking mid-sentence having no recollection of what he had been saying. He suffered migraines that left him vomiting with the pain. He had intensely vivid dreams and was incontinent on more than one occasion. The depression he felt some days was crippling.
Mrs. Weasley had wanted Harry to return to the Burrow so she could help with his every need. He kindly refused not least because the fact they had kicked him out in the first place still made his heart clench, no matter that he had been able to save Teddy and Andy as a result. He could walk, but he was weak, and stairs were bloody exhausting. That left the Burrow and Grimmauld Place out of the question in Harry's mind. They took the Lupin cottage off the market and Kreacher helped them refurnish the space they had been trying to sell. They set up a second bed in Harry's room, so he never spent a night alone. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, or Charlie would often spend the night with him making sure he woke up to take his potions every four hours, steadied him as he shuffled to and from the bathroom, and calmed him from his nightmares. Charlie accompanied him to every healer appointment. He was a qualified medic, a requirement for all managers at the reserve, and Harry found him most helpful in translating the healer's instructions and, more importantly, remembering what they were once Harry forgot hours later.
Hermione had used the time at St. Mungo's to continue her research into reversing memory charms. Harry had to convince his best friends to return to Australia to finish what they started before Hermione had to leave for Hogwarts. In their absence and with her majority reached, Ginny used her freedom to visit the cottage to help where she could nearly every day.
His dark days were less frequent when she was there, and on his darkest days, she crawled into his bed and held him without comment for hours. They weren't back together, but their friendship was ever more firmly cemented.
In his boredom, Harry helped Ginny study her sixth year course-work. Having Death Eaters control the school, doling out punishments, teaching a warped, pureblood supremacy-approved curriculum, and holding students hostage to make their parents cooperate hadn't fostered a good learning environment, so she was behind. Despite that, OWLs and NEWTs would cover the same material they always had, so the incoming fifth and seventh years in particular were facing pressure to study outside of school to catch up. Those in Harry's class that hadn't taken their NEWTs yet and weren't planning to repeat seventh year had started a study group and were planning to sit the exams in December. Ginny side-along apparated Harry to various friend's houses where they had (sometimes raucous) study sessions.
In the third week of September, Hogwarts was deemed repaired well enough for classes to resume. Madame Maxime had arrived after the Beauxbaton term ended in her Abraxan-drawn carriage with most of her teaching staff in tow to help repair Hogwarts. The Durmstrang ship had breached the Black Lake two days later and the Ilvermorny blimp landed by the greenhouses a day after that with a delegation of teachers, magical restoration experts, and volunteers from around the world. It was a testament to the damage wrought that even with hundreds of experts and skilled volunteers working tirelessly, it took four and a half months to make her functional.
Hermione and Ron returned having restored her parent's memories, but the desire to live in Australia remained firmly planted in their minds. The Wilkin's dental practice was flourishing and they seemed genuinely happy, so Hermione bought them and herself owls that were bred to travel long distances and returned to England.
Harry accompanied Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to Diagon Alley the week before term began for his first public outing since the raid. He was even more of a hero in people's eyes because now, besides defeating Voldemort, he was the only one to have made progress in the push to bring down the inner circle. While the DMLE and VAC had great success with bringing corrupt Ministry officials and lower ranking Death Eaters to justice, the inner circle had remained elusive. Harry had managed to bring three down in one night. Travers and Rowle had all been killed as a result of the explosion. Otis May had lost both legs and the other Death Eater from the porch, Darius Edgecombe, had been captured with only minor injuries.
Harry was determined to not let the attention bother him. He had missed Ginny's birthday and she wasn't looking forward to returning to Hogwarts with only Hermione in tow. Harry made it up to her the only way he knew how. He bought her a top-of-the-line broomstick. He had offered to buy her a Firebolt, but once he convinced her to accept, she chose the GMZ-87v - an international standard, German-made broom. It was only slightly less expensive than the Firebolt, but it was on par for speed and balance. The seat and footholds were more comfortable for her, and the handle was shorter and slimmer, which changed the balance point and allowed for faster manoeuvring. She was going to turn a lot of heads on that broomstick, and she boarded the train with a renewed determination.
Headmistress McGonagall had named Ginny quidditch captain and had also announced that the quidditch teams would be facing off against each house four times throughout the year to decide the standings for the quidditch final. The winner of the cup would then compete against Beauxbaton's winning team in a friendly, two-part championship at the end of the year. Each school would host one home game, and the prize was international bragging rights for a year, in what the Headmistresses were hoping would become a long-standing tradition. Hermione believed they were trying to use quidditch as a distraction from the horrors the students had experienced. Harry thought it was worth a shot. He would have jumped at the chance to play or watch more quidditch during the year either way.
With the girls gone, Ron kept Harry company during the days and nights, alternating studying, physiotherapy, and Teddy Time. By October, Harry had completed his potions regimen, his wounds were scarred over, and he was walking freely. He still experienced tremors and migraines, but the frequency was trending down. By November, Harry was building muscle on his scrawny frame as he and Ron began lifting weights to amp up his physiotherapy, especially once the weather turned and jogging became a cold, muddy mess. Teddy began crawling as Harry predicted, followed closely by a doting Kreacher, and they all had to be hyperaware of the boy's movements. He was a mischievous marauder in the making.
December saw Harry, Ron, Dean, Seamus, Parvarti, Justin, Hannah, Susan, Padma, and Morag celebrating their NEWTs completed. They had studied around their work schedules, taking it in turn to provide the venue, snacks, and enthusiasm to study independently. Harry would never not want to study over a pint now that he knew beer was the key to understanding transfiguration. Neville and Hermione were the only Gryffindors who returned to repeat seventh year, so they had been incorporated into the true seventh year's classes and dorms. Their study group pooled funds to rent out the Hogs Head on Hogsmeade weekends to meet up with their friends still studying at Hogwarts. This was partially because the media frenzy they experienced the one time they tried to have a study group at the Three Broomsticks, because the wizarding world couldn't get over the novelty of battle hardened teenagers. The Hogs Head was largely empty on Hogsmeade weekends anyway, so they figured Aberforth wouldn't be too put out. That was where they chose to celebrate once their exams were over. Professor McGonagall had released several students for a night - only those of age, and under the supervision of a staff member (Hagrid) - so they were able to celebrate together. Hermione made it almost an hour before she started asking for details about the exams, "you know, while it's still fresh." Ginny had pulled Harry aside to look at the newest photos of Teddy and give highlights of the last two quidditch matches. She had submitted a request to the quidditch league to scout her and the seventh year Hufflepuff keeper, Gordon Shaw. They would be coming to the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff match in February and either could receive an invitation to the league trials in the spring.
They had a fun night amongst friends and former classmates. The current Hogwarts students were summoned by Headmistress McGonagall herself, who walked calmly up to the bar, ordered a shot of whisky, tipped her hat to Aberforth before rounding up the students efficiently. Professor McGonagall greeted each of her former students, congratulated them on their NEWTs completed and expressed her pride and hope for a good future. She had patted Harry's cheek fondly, asking after his health before asking if he could kindly fetch Ms. Granger. Ginny had dissolved in a fit of giggles as a flushed Harry hurried to retrieve Ron and Hermione from the bathroom. Harry left it up to Ginny to tell Hermione that her shirt was on inside out.
The party continued for some time after that. Ron had slunk home not long after his girlfriend departed, leaving Harry at the mercy of Seamus, since Dean had already left with Padma. He couldn't rightly recall how it had happened, but the next morning he woke up in an unfamiliar bed. He shot up, looking wildly at his surroundings - a tidy flat, with dark stained wood moulding and white plaster walls. He grabbed his glasses and wand from the bedside table and crept out to the main room. Morag MacDougal was bent over the counter, head in hands, as coffee percolated in a french press. She looked up as he padded into the room, smiling at him, then glaring, unimpressed, at his raised wand.
"Put that down, Potter or I'm not sharing this pot," she grumbled indignantly, her Scottish brogue thicker than usual.
He dropped his wand to his side, not letting it go. "Sorry. I, er, don't remember coming here."
Morag snorted. "I'm not surprised. You passed out pretty quick. Nearly didn't make it to the bed."
Harry's brow furrowed. He was fully clothed, apart from his shoes. Did something happen with her?
"Oh, Merlin, Harry. Tell your brain to stop working so hard. We snogged a bit and you fell asleep. I didn't molest you in your sleep if that's what you're thinking."
"No! I wasn't," Harry said in a rush. "I just don't remember."
She drummed her fingers on the counter and they stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.
"You said you didn't have a girlfriend last night. Are you and Ginny still...?"
"No! No, we aren't together. We're just friends. " Harry shrugged. "I'm not dating anyone. Promise."
She laughed, then teased, "what about me?"
Harry's eyes bulged wide and his face heated. His mouth opened but no words came out, which seemed to make her laugh harder.
"Relax, Harry. I was trying to diffuse the tension not create it," she said, filtering the french press and filling two mugs with the dark, steaming liquid. "Sorry. You're much better at bantering when you're a few pints in. This doesn't have to be a thing if you don't want it to be."
"I, er, I don't know what to think, honestly. I don't mean to be rude." Harry floundered in answering. He did get along well with Morag. She was the real reason his transfigurations improved, not the beer. She was kind, smart, and sarcastic. He hadn't ever considered that he might have feelings for her. He didn't want to be mean, but she wasn't the prettiest girl in their year. She wasn't a hag either, she was just a bit plain. She had wavy brunette hair, was short and had a stockier frame, but she wasn't overweight. She had light freckles and hazel eyes. Her teeth were crooked, but it made her shy smile even more endearing. She never wore makeup and she was quiet in crowds. He hadn't interacted with her much when they were at Hogwarts, but she was someone he had gravitated to in their study group. He had thought it was because he missed Hermione, but Morag was nothing like his friend.
Instead of getting offended by his bumbling, she slid the mug of coffee to him. "How about after this you freshen up and we'll get Scotch eggs from the shop around the corner and just be two friends recovering from a wild night, yeah?"
Harry sighed, gratefully. "Yes. Brilliant idea. All of it."
--**--**--**--
The holidays were upon them in no time. Andromeda and Harry had remained at the cottage well after the repairs to her house had been completed. At first it was because Harry's recovery was taking so long and the single-story layout of the cottage was easier for him to get around. Then it was a matter of finding the right time to move their stuff back, since Andy had returned to work. After that it became clear that the reasons were more that both Andromeda and Harry saw this cottage a refuge. It was a safe place unburdened with bad memories. Yes, Remus and Tonks had lived here, but they had always been happy here. The Tonks house had so many memories and reminders of her lost family. The Tonks house was where Harry was tortured and almost lost himself. The place he had become a murderer. They agreed to celebrate Teddy's first Christmas in the cottage and then they would start the new year back at the Tonks house.
It was Hermione's idea for Harry to buy the Lupin's cottage. "You can't honestly tell me you want to fix up Grimmauld Place and live there, Harry," she accused the second day back from Hogwarts. "It'll take loads of work to get done. Months of cleaning and renovation. You'll have to spend a small fortune redecorating it. And when you start a family of your own, there are so many stairs. You're already worried about Teddy falling down the one flight of stairs at Andromeda's. How will you feel about the four flights of stairs at Grimmauld Place?"
Harry stared at her confused. "But why would I buy this place if I'm living with Andromeda?"
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Surely you aren't planning to live with her forever?" She continued after his face looked more confused. "I'm sure she's not looking to get rid of you, but were you really planning to stay there until Teddy goes to Hogwarts? Would you still be there when he graduates? At some point, you might want a bit of space. This place already has a room for Teddy. You feel safe and comfortable here. It's not too big. It's peaceful and isolated, but still close to Andromeda. Why wouldn't you want to buy it?"
"But what if I leave and something happens to Teddy or Andromeda?" Harry asked. "And I'll miss so much of Teddy growing if I move out."
Hermione pulled Harry into a hug. "No one's saying you should leave right now, Harry. Don't worry about it. I shouldn't have said anything, I'm sorry. I was just thinking, you could buy this as an option. An investment for the future. If you never use it, you can sell it or even give it to Teddy as a graduation present."
"I'll think about it."
--**--**--**--
George had reopened Weasley's Wizard Wheezes the first day of the winter holidays. Percy, with help from Charlie, had spearheaded the endeavour. George had thrown himself into his work as a VAC after Charlie was hurt and was even more obsessed after Harry's attack. They all agreed it seemed to be good for him to have a purpose and an outlet for his energy, but where the joke shop had been an outlet of positive, creative energy, the VAC was an outlet for his anger. He had received two warnings for how he handled the criminals they captured and they had considered suspending him from the program at one point. Percy had stepped in, being the one brother willing to bear the brunt of George's anger. At the end of it, Percy was living in the flat above the shop with George. They spent months in the fall cleaning the store and restocking the shelves with the colourful products. They made new products and retired others. Percy had reworked their bookkeeping and organised the office. Verity had been eager to work again, since Fred and George had never stopped paying her wages after the Death Eaters had forced the shop closed. The grand reopening was well attended by Hogwarts students, past and present, wanting to support George. The entire Weasley clan and Harry manned the counters and restocked the displays.
They were all exhausted by closing time, but as Verity, Lee, and Angelina passed around flutes of champagne, Harry couldn't help feel it was a bittersweet occasion.
George had never apologised for how he had reacted to the news of Harry having dated Ginny. Neither had Mr. Weasley, for that matter. Mrs. Weasley had done so with her care packages the week after he left and her constant fussing over him. Bill and Charlie had tried to laugh it off, but they weren't very close to Harry to begin with, so it seemed enough at the time. Percy was the only one to outright apologise, while also giving his blessing should he and Ginny begin dating again. Typical Percy. Ron and Ginny were still upset on Harry's behalf, and the result was supremely awkward encounters whenever Harry was with the Weasley clan.
Harry had been pressured into attending Christmas at the Burrow, though Andromeda and Teddy had been invited, as well. They came for Christmas dinner, having enjoyed a quiet morning of Teddy crawling in boxes and ripping bits of wrapping paper in his chubby hands before 'gifting them' back to Harry, soggy with saliva. Teddy had received his first, and potentially only, hand-knitted Potter sweater. Harry had taken photo after photo of the tyke, barely stopping long enough to open his own gifts. Andromeda received the attempt of her Potter sweater, and her tears of mirth were worth the self-deprecating embarrassment as she turned the lump of wool over and over as she tried to spot just where he had gone wrong.
By the end of the Weasley family dinner, he was ready to go home. It was another bittersweet gathering because he found the place he had once desperately wished was his home didn't hold the same meaning for him anymore. The Weasleys stumbled at times through their grief, out of sync with each other. When one half was ready to laugh, the other half were ready to cry. They rarely managed to all stay in the same room together, since someone was always ducking out of the room to collect themselves. George had fled to his flat, followed closely by Percy before the pudding was served.
Next year would be easier.
They moved back to the Tonks home on Boxing Day. Harry and Andromeda had been given lessons on their new wards. They had been assured they were the best a home like theirs could have. The rune maps definitely looked complicated to Harry, who was only vaguely aware of the different rune structures. He slept fitfully the first night, eventually plodding down to the sofa, then grabbing a blanket and settling himself down against the door, wand in hand.
Andromeda had not been pleased to find him there the next morning. She lectured him fiercely about trust and sanity and the dangers of obsessive behaviour. But once the first night was over with and he was reminded of the good things that had happened in that house, he relaxed and settled in. Eventually.
--**--**--**--
Charlie was returning to his job in Romania on the fourth of January, so they had more than one reason to celebrate the New Year. They weren't able to rent out the Hogs Head on New Year's Eve, so they set up a tent on the beach by Shell Cottage and invited their friends to join. The tent was outside the ward boundaries, so Bill didn't mind hosting a large group of strangers. They brought in two kegs of beer, one light and one dark. They had cases of butterbeer and plenty of mixers. Beyond that, it was bring your own spirits. The wireless was amplified and temperature charms lined the massive party tent. Harry had invited the study group to join them, and a good number of the seventh years were in attendance. Members of the Order and VAC were there to send off Charlie and ring in the New Year. Ginny had begged George to set off a massive fireworks show over the ocean, so she had been conscripted to help set it up.
"You would not believe how much sand is in my bra right now!" Ginny said angrily before slamming back a shot of whisky.
"Ummmm..." Harry said, unhelpfully, keeping his eyes averted from her chest, but also wanting to offer to help.
"I would vanish it, but I'm worried I'll end up naked or something. This isn't even close to my first shot of the night." She tossed back another shot to prove her point.
"Maybe you could ask Hermione for help?" Harry suggested.
Ginny snorted. "No. I think she's busy getting sand stuck in places way more uncomfortable than a bra."
"Gross, Gin. Do you always have to bring that up?"
"No, but Ron does apparently," she teased, waggling her eyebrows. Harry let out a frustrated sigh. Ron was insufferable the first time Hermione left for Hogwarts and he wasn't looking forward to him pining for the next month until the February Hogsmeade trip.
"You could always go up to the cottage and get it out the old fashioned way," Harry said, annoyed.
"Or I could keep teasing you."
"What are we doing, Ginny?" Harry said, suddenly serious. They were standing at a high top table in a corner of the tent, out of the way of the dancers and revellers.
"What do you mean, Harry?"
"You and me." He waved his index finger back and forth between them to accentuate his point. "Did you want to try again or is this over?"
She didn't respond for a while, but her eyes were a storm of conflicting emotions. She took a sip of whisky this time before responding. "I don't know what I want anymore. Besides quidditch, that is."
Harry snorted. "Well that was never in doubt."
"Do you want to get back together?"
He fidgeted with the half empty pint in his hand. "I thought I did ... but then ... your dad was so angry with me. I never thought they'd be so upset about us. I mean, Ron, sure. I thought he'd punch me for sure, but he didn't, so I figured that would be the worst of it. Then they were all so upset."
"I think that had a lot more to do with Fred than it ever had to do with you."
"They tossed me out, Gin. And it wasn't some rash decision they regretted immediately. They never invited me back. They didn't even apologise, not that they have to. I was a freeloader, but still. I don't think you can blame that on grief."
Ginny took a steadying breath. "I don't want the decision to date me to ever come down to my family's approval. I'm the one you'd be dating. My opinion is the only one that should matter besides your own. They will have to come to terms with our choices if we want to be together. If you can't accept that, I think we shouldn't start this."
Harry nodded. "I think I already lost them anyway."
"Don't judge anyone on how they acted this year. It hasn't been kind to many."
Harry shrugged. "I know there isn't a point in starting back up a few days before you go back to school, but if you want me to wait for you I will."
"Merlin, Harry. We broke up over a year and a half ago! Please don't tell me you've been waiting for me." Ginny's eyes blazed. He loved it when they did that.
"Well, to be fair, I had a lot going on most of that time. Not a lot of dating opportunities, in general."
"That's not the point!"
"I don't know, Ginny. It hasn't been a priority. And I didn't know where we stood. I never would have ended things between us if I didn't have to go after the horcruxes. I don't think I've ever been as happy as I was with you. It feels like things are, I don't know... unfinished between us."
Ginny's lips were pulled into a thin line and she was staring at a point over his shoulder. "I get what you're saying, Harry. I think it would be easy to fall back where we were, but... everything is going to keep changing. I'll be finished with school in the spring, hopefully on my way to a wildly successful quidditch career, and you'll be doting on Teddy with some boring Ministry desk job, probably-"
"Hey, now!"
"What! You don't know what you want to do. I'm just basing this on statistics."
"Right. Statistics."
She sighed. "I don't think you should wait for me. Not because I don't want you, but... I don't think I want anything serious right now. I want my freedom to move where I want and make a life for myself that I can be proud of. I'm not sure I can do that if I'm not on my own."
Harry nodded, swallowing thickly. "Will we still be friends if I did date someone else?"
"I should hope so," she said, then turned serious again at the expression on his face. She put her hands on his shoulders, turning him to make eye contact. "Harry Potter. I promise I'll be on my best behaviour, and I'll only be a raging bitch if the person you date is completely unworthy of you."
He huffed a laugh. "Deal. I promise the same, but I'll leave the raging bitch part to your brothers."
"Deal."
Ginny stepped towards him and kissed his cheek. "I don't think I've been so happy either. Thank you, for that." And then she walked into the crowd.
Morag brought him a fresh pint sometime later. He hadn't moved from the spot even though he had finished his beer and he was thirsting for fresh air. "You don't look like you're having much fun, Harry."
He smiled weakly. "Well, you only just got here, so...."
She smile brightly. "My, my, that almost sounded like a flirtatious comment. Our Mr. Potter has never intentionally flirted with anyone, so I can only assume you are an imposter."
Harry gasped dramatically and pointed to himself. "Me? Never."
She giggled and sipped her drink.
"Do you want to go outside with me?" he asked, suddenly. "I could use some air."
"Can you promise we won't find your besties in a compromising position? Because there was once a bet on how many freckles Ron would have on his arse, and I don't want to be the one to report back with the findings."
Harry choked on his beer, coughing just in front of the tent entrance. She patted his back with a firm hand. "Where the hell did that come from?"
She shrugged. "We have long winters in Scotland. What else are we going to talk about?" Harry stared at her incredulously. "Oh come on! You're going to tell me you and your dorm mates never ranked the hotness of the girls in our year?"
"There's ranking hotness and then there's betting on ass freckles, Morag. Those are separate circles of a Venn diagram and I'm not sure they overlap."
"You're telling me you didn't place bets on whether Pansy Parkinson's right boob would fill in to match the left?"
"NO!"
"What about Susan's gap tooth? Or Wayne's rat tail? Or Seamus getting arrested for arson?"
"No!" Harry laughed. "We didn't bet on anything like that. Wait, is there really something wrong with Pansy's boobs?"
"Yeah, Harry, the left is a whole other cup size! It's super obvious."
"Oh. I guess I never got passed the pug face to notice."
Morag laughed again as they got to the water's edge. "She does have a pug face, doesn't she? I never would have described it like that. Mandy will get a kick out of that."
"Last time I checked - which I wasn't checking, checking, it was incidental checking - there were no ass freckles. It's just bright and pale as the moon." Harry said, pointing to the nearly full moon above, peaking through the clouds.
"Oh," Morag said, disappointed. "I'd have lost a liquorice wand."
"The horror. At least it wasn't a chocolate frog."
"Don't tell me frogs are your favourite."
"What's wrong with frogs?"
"Nothing, I guess. At least it's not sugar quills. That's boring."
Harry laughed fondly. "That's Hermione's favourite."
"But her parents are dentists, right?" Morag asked. When Harry nodded she continued. "She's young. There's still time to convert her. The older she gets the less her parents will be goading her about sweets. I'll judge her by her choices in five years. It's only fair, then." She settled herself into the sand, handing her drink to Harry as she pulled her cardigan closer to her body. "Do you think the fireworks will start soon?"
"Should be. It's only," he checked his watch, "ten to midnight."
"Want to stay and watch with me here? Promise I won't be offended if you don't snog me senseless."
"Well, I don't remember the last time, so...."
"Be careful what you wish for, Potter."