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SIYE Time:11:47 on 19th March 2024
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Restless Heart Syndrome
By notadryeeye

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:All
Genres: Angst, Drama, Romance
Warnings: Mild Language, Sexual Situations
Rating: R
Reviews: 429
Summary: 17 Years have passed since the fall of Voldemort. Just as the world thinks it has finally started to heal and move on, some things thought long lost begin to awaken.
Hitcount: Story Total: 102995; Chapter Total: 5163







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“He's really good with her.”

Harry's voice from beside her broke Hermione out of her quiet contemplation.

She had been thinking about the previous 24 hours and just what had happened in the time since they'd found themselves stuck in the middle of Harry's office. The events that had followed had been surreal and completely unexpected and unexplainable. Not only was Harry alive, but whole in most every way–remembering himself and everything from before he'd disappeared.

He was, unsurprisingly, not exactly the same person they had known before. Harry had been shaped by the experiences of living 17 years as another man, with another name and a half a lifetime of interactions and instances that had created different nuances and mannerisms in the boy she had known long ago. The accent and his word choices, his comfort with modern technology and the casual and assured confidence that he had not possessed as a teen were all things Hermione could count as different and strange in a way.

But as she, Ron, and Harry spent the rest of the evening talking and reconnecting to some degree, it had become clear that their Harry was still there and very present in Evan Smith. His smile, his expressions, his laugh–albeit a bit deeper–were the same. As the conversation had wore on into the late evening hours, it had become easier to forget about the time and the events that had passed between them as old jokes and stories had easily returned.

Hermione finally looked up to find Harry's eyes following Sophie as she climbed up the ladder of the slide. Ron was standing next to the ladder, watching the little girl climb as a he held a hand out just in case. Sophie seemed to be jabbering away about something as Ron laughed.

Harry was smiling as he watched on. He and Hermione were sitting a ways away on a bench, relaxing and talking quietly. Harry had apparently promised Sophie earlier in the week that they would go to a nearby park on Saturday. When the little girl had started to get upset when Harry had told her that their trip would have to wait because they had guests, Ron and Hermione had insisted that they would simply tag along with them. So they had made a day of it, enjoying the crisp, cool autumn day in this beautiful city park.

“He's always been good with kids,” Hermione smiled as she watched the scene too. Ron and moved to the end of the slide, readying himself to catch Sophie when she reached him. “Uncle Ron is always the favorite with the nieces and nephews and, I have to admit it, but he's always been the one that's been much better at getting down on the floor and playing with our own kids at their level.”

“I suppose it's because he's still a big kid himself,” she added with a laugh as she watched her husband catch Sophie as she slid off the end of the slide and twirled her around. Her excited little giggles reached them, causing both Harry and Hermione to smile even wider.

“She's quite taken with him,” Harry told her as he glanced sideways at her. “You might not get him back.”

“You'd send him back after a few days,” Hermione teased.

“That may not be up to me,” Harry replied with a smile as his eyes sought his daughter again. “She seems to run things more and more. And I have to admit it...but she's got me completely wrapped around her finger already. I'm definitely in big trouble for later on...”

“You'll be fine,” Hermione assured him. “I'm sure by the time you've got to worry about her dating boys and all those other awkward teenage girl things you'll have a good woman in both of your lives to help out,” she added

“Please...do not mention dating and boys,” Harry groaned. “She's four and so far, I'm the only man in her life. I'd like to keep it that way until she's at least 24...” he added, shaking his head at the thought. Hermione could only smile at his reaction.

“And–are you and Ron trying to marry me off?” Harry asked. “You both seem awfully interested in the goings-on in my love life...or lack thereof,” he added with a snort as he suddenly became interested in his shoes.

“No,” Hermione assured him. “I think we were prepared to come here and find that you might have moved on–had a wife and kids. You not being was a small surprise. You said last night that we deserved to be happy...so do you. ” she told him as she laid a hand gently on his arm.

“I am,” Harry replied. “Right now I've got the one woman in my life that I need,” he continued, eyes wandering back over to Sophie, who had lured Ron to the swings. “And I'm happy where we are right now.”

“I spent a lot of time looking for something or someone to fill the empty places in my life,” Harry added as he sighed heavily. “Now that I've got Sophie...I'm not in any hurry to just bring anyone into our lives and jump into a relationship because I’m lonely...”

“I didn't mean to pry...”

“You're not,” Harry assured her with a smile. “And you two wouldn't be the first to take interest in my romantic life,” he added with a laugh. “I've been here only a few months and I've already had a few colleagues try and set me up. For some reason, I'm a magnet for older women wanting to introduce me to their daughters, nieces or even next door neighbors.”

“Evan Smith must be quite the catch,” Hermione teased, causing Harry to laugh.

“He certainly acts a whole lot cooler than he really is,” Harry added with a chuckle. Hermione smiled.

“Where did the name come from?” Hermione asked hesitantly. “How did you end up as Evan?”

“Well...I took Smith as my last name after I'd been living with Steve and Maria for a while,” Harry explained. “The hospital nor the authorities had any clue who I really was–so in order for me to get a job, go to school or pretty much do anything–I had to have an identity created for me.”

“Did they adopt you?” Hermione asked in earnest interest.

“No,” Harry replied. “I mean...nobody really knew how old I really was...they actually guessed I was a year younger than I am. But I was considered too close to legal adult age for them to officially adopt me. But it only felt right to take the name after all they'd done for me.”

“And Evan sort of came about when the nurses and police were trying to figure out who I was and what name to call me,” Harry continued. “I don't really remember it, actually...but they were going through a list of missing people with me and apparently I showed some sort of recognition to the name of a young man with the first name 'Evan.' I couldn't actually talk at the time and tell them anything, if I had known...and it turned out not to be me, obviously. But it stuck and it's what I've been called since the first few weeks at the hospital,” he explained with a heavy sigh.

“Could your recognition have had anything to do with Evans being your mother's maiden name?” Hermione asked as the logical and questioning part of her mind kicked in.

“I've thought about that,” Harry admitted. “I think it might have...subconsciously obviously.”

“Ron and I only know a few details about you being in the hospital,” Hermione said after a few seconds. “But you were in very bad shape,” she added. It wasn't necessarily a question, but a confirmation of what Remus had told Ron.

Harry nodded, swallowing visibly.

“I really can't remember anything substantial about the first week or so,” Harry began to explain, surprising Hermione in that he was actually willing to talk about it. “I mean, there are flashes of color and sounds and bits of conversation that I can sort of recall. But mainly the beginning is a blur,” he added uneasily.

“The first thing I really remember is waking up and I wasn't able to really move a whole lot. I had tubes and wires coming out of everywhere,” he continued on. “I was hooked up to a respirator through a tracheotomy tube. My jaw was wired shut,” he added when Hermione looked at him curiously.

“It was shattered actually, and they had to piece it back together...like the rest of me I suppose,” he added. “I had 2 broken vertebrae in my back and fractures in my pelvis. The rest of me was pretty screwed up too. I felt like one giant bruise from head to toe...”

“Remus said you couldn't talk,” Hermione replied slowly. “He admitted to Ron that he had come to visit you twice in the months after...before the charms took over completely...”

“My jaw was wired shut for nearly 8 weeks...so that was a big part of it,” Harry replied. “After that, it took me a couple of months to learn how to actually talk again. I had to physically learn how to use the muscles of my mouth and jaw to form words again...but I also had a bit of temporary dysphasia. I had trouble for a while expressing what I wanted to say. They said it had something to do with the closed head injury I initially had. I could think of the word I wanted to use or the phrase I needed...but I couldn't verbalize it. It was frustrating...”

“You had to go through a lot of physical therapy too?” Hermione asked, remembered what Ron had told her about Harry barely being able to walk weeks after the battle.

“Yeah. I was relatively lucky I didn't have any severe, lasting damage considering I broke my back,” Harry admitted. “But it took some time and a lot of work to get back on my feet and functioning normally again. I do still have the occasional aches and pain from it I suppose...especially right before the weather turns.”

“I'm surprised you're functioning at all,” Hermione replied in astonishment as she began to realize just how grievously injured he'd been.

“I've heard that a time or two before,” Harry said with a small laugh. “The doctors and nurses were pretty impressed with just how much I'd recovered when I left them. I still wasn't talking incredibly well when they officially released me. I was kind of embarrassed about it and really didn't talk all that much in the beginning.”

“Plus...I had the additional pleasure of trying to create connections and interacting with people who I had no meaningful collective memory or experience with,” he continued on. “I could reason and understand pretty well and I had a grasp on most basic concepts for living and functioning. But I didn’t have memories of the experiences that normal people have in learning those skills...”

“I can’t imagine how scary that all must have been,” Hermione supplied as she shook her head in disbelief.

“It was terrifying in the beginning,” Harry admitted. “It was tough enough with all the physical stuff I had to deal with, but then they started asking me questions about myself and where I was from...and I didn’t know...” he added as his voice faded with the last word.

“It’s a surreal thing to be asked your name and your age and you realize you don’t know it and you have no clue about anything. Everything else you try to recall is just...blank. You can’t remember people or whatever family you figure you must have had. And then you start to wonder--what did I do that was so bad that someone hurt me like they did...and what kind of person was I that--in the few months I was in the hospital--nobody came forward to claim me?” Harry continued in a pained voice.

“It’s the most helpless feeling ever...”

Harry looked away at his last admission, perhaps embarrassed that he’d indulged so much about his feelings or maybe didn’t want Hermione to see the emotion on his face at the moment.

“I’m sorry you had to go through all that,” Hermione told him sincerely as she squeezed Harry’s arm gently, hoping he’d understand and welcome the supportive gesture.

“It was my own doing,” Harry admitted after a few seconds, glancing back at Hermione. “It was my decisions--my choices--that lead to all of this,” he added with a heavy sigh. “I still don’t know if it was the right one...”

“We would have been there for you--to take care of you--no matter what,” Hermione told him quietly.

“I know,” Harry replied. “And at the time...that’s exactly what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to add one more thing to the list of what what you’d already done for me. I didn’t want to be a burden...and in my own twisted reckoning...I figured if I was just--gone--then you all would be able to go on after a while.”

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Harry spoke again before she could get anything out.

“Nothing would have changed my magic and memory loss...and I actually could have ended up in a hell of a worse state than I did,” Harry continued. “I didn’t want to be one of those people that ended up stuck in the closed ward at St. Mungo’s--or worse in my mind--having you or Ron or any of the others have to take care of me. The thought horrified me.”

“And even though the physical and mental effects weren’t as severe or lasting as they could have been...I still spent 17 years not knowing who I was or anything of my life before,” Harry added. “I couldn’t imagine trying to fit back into my old life with all that going against me. I don’t know what would have been worse...not knowing who I was at all and trying to start anew--like I did--or trying to live with the ghosts and expectations of who everyone else knew I was when I didn’t.”

“I think we would have liked the chance to help you with whatever choice you made,” Hermione replied after a few moments of silence. “After everything the three of us went through together...I think we deserved that.”

“You’d have never let me go,” Harry said quietly as he let out a shaky breath. “If I would have come to you two and told you what I was up to...what I was going to do--you’d have tried to stop me or think of some way to come with me. But this was something that I had to do. The Horcrux had to be destroyed and that meant sacrifice on some level on my part. I couldn’t put that on you two...”

Hermione did not respond, but instead swallowed heavily, knowing that everything Harry had said was true. Of course they would have tried to find some other way to separate the Horcrux from Harry’s soul. They would have done anything to make things easier and to save him from the fate that he had inevitably fallen to.

“I know you’re angry with me,” Harry said as he turned and looked directly at Hermione. The intensity of Harry’s gaze catching her off-guard. “And I know that I can’t change what’s happened. Just know that at the time...I truly thought I was doing what was best--for everybody.”

“And now?” Hermione asked quietly. “Do you still feel that way?”

“Most the time,” Harry replied truthfully as he reached a hand into his jeans pocket. “But now I see everything I’ve missed--your wedding and the birth of your children--it’s tough to realize I wasn’t there for any of it,” he added as he brought his hand to his mouth and popped in a square of gum and began chewing it.

“And we missed you so much,” Hermione told him. “But we’re all here now...and we’ve got a lot of time ahead of us to try and make up for what we’ve lost.”

Harry nodded his agreement as his eyes found Ron and Sophie again, his jaw working on the gum.

“Can I ask you about that?” Hermione said without being able to help herself. “About the gum?” she clarified when he raised his brow in question.

Realizing what she was asking, Harry sighed and a sheepish smile curled the edge of his mouth.

“I’m--er--I’m trying to quite smoking,” Harry admitted hesitantly as he glanced sideways at Hermione.

Hermione shot him a surprised look at his revelation.

“I know...It’s dirty and nasty and extremely unhealthy,” Harry said shaking his head.

“I just--I didn’t expect that from you,” Hermione admitted her own surprise.

“I started in my 20’s...smoking when I drank or was out socially,” Harry explained with another sigh. “But it became more after awhile and it’s a bad habit I haven’t been able to break--even now.”

“Sophie’s in 4k--4 year old kindergarten--and they had this anti-smoking week at school,” Harry continued. “She came home with all these papers and drawings for it and during class they asked the kids if their parents smoked and if they would like it if they stopped,” Harry added.

“She came home and told me she wanted me to quit my ‘smoking sticks’ and she even helped me dump them and then flush them down the toilet,” Harry said as he laughed quietly. “So I’ve been trying...for her.”

“And the gum is...” Hermione began.

“Nicotine gum,” Harry admitted. “It’s been getting me through days--that and lots of coffee,” Harry added with a smile.

“In your office yesterday...” Hermione began again.

“I nearly broke down and had one,” Harry admitted again, understanding where Hermione was going. “I’ve got a pack in my filing cabinet just in case...”

“I imagine the stress of us popping up out of nowhere didn’t help,” Hermione interjected knowingly.

“No...it certainly hasn’t,” Harry replied. “But I haven’t slipped yet, so...I’m pretty impressed at that.”

“Well, at least you’re trying to quit,” Hermione commended him with a smile. “You should be very proud of that,” she added.

“I am,” Harry admitted truthfully. “But I wish I would have never started...” he added with a sigh.

“We’ve all got a few habits we wished we didn’t,” Hermione assured him.

Harry nodded in agreement and they lapsed into another bout of comfortable silence as Ron continued to keep Sophie entertained a little ways away.

“So what happens now?” Hermione asked after a couple of minutes, her mind unable to keep in check the questions that were racing about within.

Harry looked at her, his brow cocked in confusion and inquiry.

“Ron and I were talking last night before bed,” Hermione began to explain, “and we both agreed that we can’t go another 17 years between visits. Now that we know you’re here and alive...we’re not going to be able to go back to our lives and forget about you.”

Harry nodded.

“I know...” Harry admitted. “I can’t ask or expect you guys to do that...and I don’t think I can just go on like I have been. I don’t want these few days here to be the end of it either.”

“But you have to understand that I just can’t go back to England tomorrow,” Harry continued. “Like I said yesterday, it’s not as simple as just packing up and going home anymore. I may have considered it a few years ago if things worked out like this--my memory coming back and you guys showing up--but not now.”

“I know it sounds selfish to say...but I’ve finally got a good thing here--a good life,” Harry added. “And I don’t want to screw that up.”

“That’s not selfish,” Hermione interjected as she shook her head. “It’d be selfish of us to expect you to just drop everything and come with us.”

“It’s enough to have to think of bringing so much change to my life...” Harry added as he nodded at Hermione’s last statement. “But I can’t fathom right now how much things would change for Sophie or what I’d have to tell Maria and Steve...”

“It’s not like I can just pop in one day and drop all this on them and then leave for halfway across the world,” Harry said. “I was back there a couple of weekends ago and it was the first time I’d been back to Buffalo since my memories came back. I wanted so bad to at least tell them that I know who I am now. But how do I explain exactly what that means? I just--I can’t figure out how I’d ever be able to do that without flipping everything completely upside down...”

“They mean a lot to you,” Hermione mused aloud as she listened to the worry in Harry’s voice as he spoke of the prospect of having to explain everything to those who had taken him in.

“They do,” Harry confirmed. “They’re my family--as much as you and the Weasley’s are. They’ve always been there when I’ve needed them. Not only did they take me in when they didn’t have to...but their home has always been a place where I could go and feel safe and be a part of something, no matter what I’d done.”

“Steve and Maria are--are really like a mom and dad to me,” Harry admitted as he glanced sideways at Hermione. “Steve helped me get a job at UB--where he’s a professor of Criminal Justice--initially after I’d gotten released from the hospital.”

“You worked at the university straight away?” Hermione asked in confusion.

“In the maintenance department,” Harry clarified. “It’s next to impossible to get any sort of job with no traceable background and no work experience. Steve pulled a few strings for me and got me a job mowing lawns, cleaning and doing odd jobs as part of the maintenance and janitorial crew on campus. I did that for a few months and then I got volunteered to help out as an assistant for one of Steve’s buddies who’s a photography professor in the the Art Department at UB.”

Hermione continued to listen with rapt attention as the pieces of how Harry had stumbled into the field of photography began to take shape.

“I was basically there to hold reflectors, move lights and carry equipment the first few times I helped out,” Harry continued. “Then the third time we were at a wedding that Dr. Allen was shooting for a friend. He didn’t need a second shooter and there wasn’t a whole lot for me to do equipment-wise, so he gave me his extra camera and showed me a few basics--how to change settings and read the light meter. Then he told me to just ‘wander around’ and take pictures.”

“I had no clue what I was doing,” Harry admitted with a chuckle. “And I felt extremely odd taking pictures of complete strangers. But I just did what I thought might look good and hoped I didn’t break anything,” he added with a smile.

“That following Monday I got a message while I was on my lunch break that Dr. Allen wanted me to meet him in his office that afternoon,” Harry continued. “I was panicking. I’d figured I must have messed something up and was going to get fired or have to pay for whatever I’d broken. And then when I got there...Steve was there too. I really thought I was in trouble.”

“Obviously you weren’t,” Hermione replied with a smile.

“No. Without really even saying anything, they started showing me these photographs,” Harry continued. “I really didn’t understand what they were getting at and then they told me that the photos were from the camera I’d used--they were the ones I’d taken.”

“They were--pretty good--especially for someone who hadn’t done anything like it before,” Harry admitted with a slight shrug, reluctant to take total praise for any talent he might have displayed even then. “Dr. Allen said that he was interested in teaching me more via an apprenticeship with him. And both he and Steve suggested that I think about enrolling as a student in the photography program that the Art Department offered.”

“It made sense, really,” Harry continued. “I knew I didn’t want to do maintenance for the rest of my life and that was really my only career option at that time,” Harry added with a smile. “And it was the first time I really had something to focus on and something that gave me an identity of some sort. So I jumped at the chance and Dr. Allen, Steve and Marie helped me apply and prepare for the admissions tests I needed to get in...which wasn’t an easy task. A Wizarding education doesn’t exactly prepare one for taking the ACT’s. I had a lot of catching up to do in some areas,” he added.

“But Steve and Maria...they were there for all of it,” Harry said as he let out a heavy sigh. “And more recently, they were there to help me raise and watch Sophie, which allowed me to go back to school. Where I am now...I owe that to them.”

“We’re glad you have them,” Hermione told him with a smile. “Ron and I are glad you weren’t alone and that you had people who love and care about you here--like you do back home.”

“There must be some attraction to helping the little lost orphan boy...” Harry said with a cheeky smile. Hermione couldn’t help but laugh.

“No...I think it has more to do with what kind of person you are that draws people to you,” Hermione corrected him. “You’ve always had that about you.”

Harry nodded his reluctant agreement as his eyes were drawn back to the playground area. It seemed that Sophie had had her fill of playing and she and Ron were making their way back towards them--Sophie was leading Ron by the hand.

“We understand that things can’t be completely like we want them to be,” Hermione admitted as she too watched them approach. “But we still want to keep in contact. We don’t want to lose you again...”

“I want that too,” Harry replied as he watched as Sophie dropped Ron’s hand and started running towards him. He paused a moment, his hands held out slightly in front of him as he prepared to catch the little girl as she launched herself into his lap.

“Daddy!” she squealed excitedly as she jumped into his grasp, pulling herself close to his chest as Harry caught her easily.

“Sophie,” Harry teased back in a cute imitation of his daughter’s excited greeting. “Did you have fun playing?” Harry asked.

Sophie nodded ecstatically.

“Are you all tired out now?” Harry teased as a yawn interrupted Sophie’s enthusiastic reply.

“No,” she replied.

“I am,” Ron said with a sigh and a chuckle as he plopped himself down in front of the bench, his back resting against Hermione’s legs. “She’s got a lot of energy for such a little thing. I think I’m ready for a nap already,” he added with a fake yawn of his own.

“Come on,” Harry replied with a smile. “You’ve had five kids and you’re telling me she’s enough to tire you out?” Harry asked.

“Well with our kids there’s always another one to play with,” Ron explained. “When I’m knackered from playing with them I can just say ‘go bother your brother or sister,’ and that’s that,” Ron added with a yawn.

“Nice, Ronald,” Hermione said as she rolled her eyes. “And what are you going to do when Scarlett’s the only one at home for 3 years?”

Harry and Ron both smiled at the classic response that Ron had been able to get from his wife.

“She could play with me,” Sophie interjected. “He said his little girl is five...and I’m gonna be five,” Sophie added as she held up her hand, first putting up only four fingers before holding her tiny hand wide open with the correct number.

The three adults couldn’t help but laugh.

“I told her we’d have to try and get the two of them together,” Ron admitted. “I think they’d get along really well.”

“We’ll have to do that,” Harry replied with a nod as he looked down at his daughter. Sophie looked up with hopeful and excited eyes.

“You guys are welcome here anytime you want,” he added, now addressing Ron and Hermione directly. “I can give you my numbers--cell, office, home--and feel free to call and talk whenever. Like you said Hermione--I want to keep in touch. I don’t want to lose you guys again.”

Ron looked up from his spot on the ground, eyeing both of them carefully for an idea of what the subject of conversation had been while he had been entertaining Sophie. He didn’t speak however, sure of the fact that Hermione would fill him on the important points later.

“We’d like that,” Hermione replied with a smile. “But I do have to ask--what about the rest of the family?” Hermione asked hesitantly.

Harry raised a brow in question and Ron turned to also give her a scrutinizing look of his own.

“I know I said that we understand that you can’t just come back with us,” Hermione began to explain. “But I know that there are so many people in the family that would want to know that you’re okay. I think they’d be satisfied with just knowing you’re alive...”

Ron’s attention moved between Harry and his wife, unsure of what Harry’s response would be.

“You haven’t told anyone else?” Harry asked.

Hermione shook her head, but it was Ron who responded.

“We were still sort of in that ‘we’ve got to see to believe’ stage of things before we got here,” Ron admitted. “And we certainly didn’t expect to find that you’ve remembered everything,” he added.

“So you want to know if it’s alright if you tell everybody?” Harry asked uncertainly and slightly uneasily.

“If you don’t want us to, we’ll understand,” Hermione responded. “But it’s going to be hard to know--and then keep you from everyone. I know you’re worried that it might somehow get out...but you can trust them,” she reassured him gently.

Harry considered her words for a minute, staring off into the distance as his mind worked through what she was asking of him.

“I’m not sure I’m ready for that just yet,” Harry admitted as he swallowed heavily, looking down at Sophie who was nestled against him. “Maybe give me a while to think about it?” Harry added.

“We can do that,” Hermione assured him, even as Ron looked up at her questioningly.

------------------------------------ ----------------------

She was beyond the point of nervous.

On the surface this looked just like any other Sunday lunch at the Burrow. Around her, Molly and the other daughter-in-laws were milling about, watching and stirring sauce pans and pots as they chatted and gossiped about children and spouses.

The men were scattered about the sitting room and kitchen, occupying chairs and couches as they discussed everything from Ministry happenings to the standings of this year’s Quidditch leagues.

Hermione was silent however as she sat at the scrubbed wooden table, snapping the ends off of the fresh green beans that had been picked from the garden earlier that day. And Ron was nowhere to be seen--having gone to Hogwarts shortly before she’d left their home for The Burrow.

She was anxious for him to be back.

Sitting here was testing her nerves to limit as she thought over the hundred different scenarios and reactions they might be encountering in the next few hours. Everyone was carrying on as usual, completely unaware and oblivious to the possibility that she and her husband were about to lay out before them.

And the longer it was taking Ron to return, the larger the knot in her stomach seemed to get.

“Are those beans ready?” Molly Weasley’s voice snapped Hermione back from her preoccupied musing. Hermione looked up to find her mother-in-law smiling at her.

Hermione nodded and then handed over the finished bowl of green beans, banishing the discarded stems to the bin.

She looked up to find Ginny shooting her a curious look from where she sat at the other end of the table. Hermione shook her off, hoping it would be enough to avoid later conversation about her preoccupied state.

But she had hardly had time to gauge her sister-in-law’s reaction when she heard the familiar pops of Apparition from the garden.

Several of the people in the kitchen looked up at the noise, surprised by the fact that there had been two pops in quick succession--meaning that is was not only Ron who had arrived. The fact in itself was odd because Ron was the only one missing from this Sunday’s lunch.

Hermione looked up, just as everyone else had, to find her husband’s tall form squeezing through the doorway. She was not, however, surprised as everyone else was to see the second person who had also entered the kitchen from the garden.

Nearly as tall as his uncle, Jackson followed close behind. He was dressed in a red sweatshirt and jeans, his shaggy black hair windswept and wayward and his cheeks slightly pinched from the outside cold.

Several of the others looked around in surprise at Jackson’s unexpected appearance. The semester was still in session and it was extremely rare that any of their children who were school age to be at Sunday lunches now. All those curious eyes seemed to settle on Ginny--as if she was somehow would be the only one not surprised by his presence.

But she was instead scrutinizing Ron, as if trying to figure out why her brother had brought her son to the Burrow. Ron noticed his sister’s intense gaze immediately and shot his own worried look at Hermione.

Deftly and without skipping a beat, Ginny noted the look and turned her attention to Hermione. Ginny raised her brow once in question at her before speaking.

“What did you do?” Ginny asked steadily as she turned back towards Ron and Jackson. Ron opened his mouth to answer, but Jackson beat him to it.

“I didn’t do anything,” Jackson replied defensively.

“Then why is he out of school?” Ginny asked, addressing Ron directly as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I just thought it’d be nice for him to get to come to Sunday lunch for once,” Ron admitted with a shrug. “Seeing as he’s the oldest grandchild and all...” he added as he glanced once more at Hermione.

Ginny once more looked from Ron to Hermione--fully aware that something was up.

“Are you in trouble?” she asked Jackson, who shook his head automatically.

“No. Uncle Ron asked if I wanted to come today and since I don’t have anything due...I thought it would be alright,” Jackson answered uncertainly. “He said it was okay with you,” he added hesitantly as he glanced sidelong at his uncle.

Ron swallowed visibly.

“What’s going on?” Ginny asked. “You two are up to something. What is it?” she asked again, looking to Ron and Hermione as Hermione stood up from her chair and moved to stand beside her husband.

“Maybe we should call everyone else in before we start to talk...” Hermione began. But it seemed her request seemed to be for naught as everyone who had been in the sitting room had joined them, having sensed the change in atmosphere in the kitchen and having heard the conversation thus far.

“Is this going to be one of those conversations we all have to sit down for?” Fred asked as he stood near the archway that led from the kitchen to the sitting room. George, Bill, Percy Remus and Arthur had all joined them from the other room.

“Possibly,” admitted Ron seriously. Fred had meant the quip as a joke, but Ron did not seem to have found any humor in it.

Everyone else looked around for any clues to where this conversation might be headed as they found chairs to sit in or empty spaces against the walls to lean against.

“What are you two on about?” Ginny asked once more, her previous inquiry still having gone unanswered. “And why is my son here?” she added.

“Jackson’s here because he deserves to hear what we’re going to say...probably more than anyone else here,” Ron admitted.

Jackson looked just as confused as everyone else as to why he was here. He was looking quickly around at the adults in the room, a worried look on his face. He obviously knew nothing about the real reason he’d been brought here and his Uncle’s words had only troubled him.

“What we’re going to say is confusing...and you’re probably not going to believe us,” Hermione continued for her husband as the stares they were getting from the others were only heightening the tension.

“But what we’ve got to say is the truth,” Ron added.

“Ron,” Remus’s voice interrupted any chance for anyone else to speak. “Think about what you’re doing,” he added, shaking his head.

Everyone’s attention and confusion was now turned to Remus.

“We have,” Ron replied seriously. “It’s not fair to keep this quiet any longer. This isn’t your secret alone anymore...”

“It isn’t what he wanted,” Remus replied, his voice a bit desperate. “I promised him...” he repeated weakly, still clinging to the same sentiments he’d told Ron in the dungeons of Hogwarts two weeks ago.

“What the bloody hell are you all on about?” Bill interjected this time as he vocalized what everyone else in the room could only be thinking.

“It’s difficult to explain...” Hermione began.

“Well, try starting from the beginning,” George suggested. “And then usually the middle and the ending follow that,” he added, perhaps trying to lighten the heavy situation that was descending upon them all. But it seemed that his attempt had failed to hit its mark.

“You could start by explaining what this secret is that you’re all keeping,” Ginny suggested. “And why Jackson is involved,” she added.

“He’s the one that started this all,” Ron admitted.

“I started, what?” Jackson asked confused, his brows furrowed in incomprehension.

“A few months ago...when you went to America...you weren’t wrong,” Ron told him. “It wasn’t some crazy, impossible hunch that led you there.”

“Ron,” Remus whispered, shaking his head.

“Somethings happened--something that was never expected,” Ron continued without taking heed to Remus’s words.

“Harry is alive,” Ron said without hesitation. “You were so close, Jackson. Your Dad’s--”

“Ron.”

This time it was Ginny who spoke. Her voice sounded tired and frustrated and she sat at the table with a hand covering her closed eyes.

“It sounds crazy, I know--” Ron began.

“Because it is,” Ginny sighed as she shook her head and looked up. She clearly did not believe a word Ron had said and was visibly frustrated by his insistence. “Because it’s impossible and I don’t understand why you all feel the need to try and make nothing into something. What could there possibly be out there that you think fits into any story you’ve all made up to make any of this make sense? Why after all this time...have you decided to bring something like this up?”

“Because it’s true Ginny,” Remus said heavily as all eyes were pulled to him. “Ron and Hermione have only just come into this recently. But I’ve been involved since the beginning nearly 18 years ago.”

Tonks, who had been standing next to him, turned to stare in intense scrutiny and confusion at her husband.

“I was the one Harry came to,” Remus continued, ignoring the stares he was getting from around the room. He seemed intent and focused on getting this burden off his chest. “He’d figured out that he--himself--contained the final Horcrux,” he added as the revelation earned several gasps.

Since the end of the war, many of the details and the nature of the search for the Horcruxes that Harry, Ron and Hermione had undertaken had been shared with the family. They knew the reason for their quest and the places they had gone and the hardships the three of them had had to endure. So the crowd gathered in the kitchen understood what Remus had meant in the mention of the Horcruxes, but the news that Remus had just dropped on them was an obvious surprise.

“He came to me to figure out how to destroy it,” Remus added quietly. “I helped him design a spell that would separate the piece of Voldemort’s soul from his own. And I promised him that I’d help him deal with the consequences...”

“He survived...but he wasn’t the same.”

At this last statement there was a pause in which the silence seemed to sit heavy in the room--palpably pressing down on them all.

And then with one shuddering breath that seemed to split the tension in half, Remus began to speak. The explanation of his role in the unbelievable tale came spilling out as the story of how he’d helped Harry not only destroy the Horcrux, but also helped Harry conceal himself from them all began to take shape.

Everyone was completely silent as Remus spoke; the looks of shock on their faces morphing through a myriad of stages of disbelief as Remus went on. His story was nearly the same as what he had told Ron two weeks ago in the dungeons at Hogwarts. The only difference was, he wasn’t imploring them desperately to consider and accept his reasoning for choosing his family over Harry’s--as he had with Ron. His voice was heavy with regret and shame--his features tired and marred with the guilt he’d put on himself now.

“And then Ron walked into a conversation that Severus, Minerva and I were having,” Remus admitted. “That’s when I told him what I’ve just told the rest of you. But I didn’t expect that...that it’d be out so soon,” Remus added, looking pointedly at Ron and Hermione, who had remained quiet throughout his explanation.

“You knew I wasn’t going to stay quiet forever, Remus,” Ron told him. “And once we confirmed it was really true--”

“You went there?” Remus asked.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t?” Ron asked with a raised brow.

“Wait a second,” Fred interrupted as he shook his head and was the first of the group to find his voice. “You’re expecting us to believe that you helped Harry disappear and have somehow kept it a secret for nearly 18 years,” he continued, eyeing Remus.

“And you two are actually trying to have us believe that you’ve got some sort of evidence that he’s telling the truth?” he added, turning his attention to his little brother and sister-in-law.

“We’ve seen him,” Hermione replied steadily. “Last weekend we weren’t on vacation,” she added, turning to Molly and Arthur who had watched their two youngest those days under the pretenses that Ron and Hermione get away for the weekend. “We went to the U.S.”

“We found him...it was exactly as Remus explained,” Hermione said as she looked around the room at all the stunned faces.

“Well...not exactly,” Ron corrected her as they exchanged meaningful looks.

“He remembers, Remus,” Ron explained as he addressed Remus directly before looking around the room. Remus looked quite shocked by the information “It’s only been a few months...but his memories are back. He knows who he is,” Ron added.

“Stop it.”

All heads snapped towards the table to where the voice had come from. It was Ginny who had spoken and she sounded angry.

“Stop this nonsense and just listen to yourselves talk for one minute,” Ginny pleaded with them. “Harry cannot be alive.”

“Why can’t he be, Ginny?” Ron asked her. “We’re not trying to have you on or create some sort of crazy conspiracy theory to drum up attention. Believe me, if we weren’t 100 percent positive that this was the truth...we wouldn’t be here right now.”

“It can’t be...” she said, still shaking her head in disbelief.

“Why not?” Ron her, trying to understand and get to the root of her denial.

“Because I would have known,” Ginny admitted heavily. Her admission had seemed to come out of nowhere and as she turned away from everyone, it became clear that she hadn’t meant to say it aloud.

“I would have known if he was alive,” Ginny added quietly. “The only thing that would have kept him from me was death. So I can’t believe...I can’t fathom that it was any other way...”

There was silence in response to Ginny’s last words, as her voice shook with emotion.

“We have something for you all to listen to...to help you in understanding that this is real,” Hermione said quietly as she moved to where her purse hung near the door. She rummaged for a few seconds inside before pulling out her mobile phone.

“We actually stayed at Harry’s house this weekend...just talking and getting to know him again,” she began to explain as she opened the phone and began to press buttons. “He’s not ready to come back right now--he’s afraid of the madness that we all know would ensue if he did. And he wasn’t even sure it at first how he felt about us telling you guys about him...”

“When we left on Sunday...he still hadn’t decided and we promised him we wouldn’t say anything...” Ron added.

“But when we got back home and I turned my phone on...there was a message from him,” Hermione continued on as she set the phone down on a nearby counter top. It was still open as Hermione pushed a button that put it on speakerphone.

“His voice is a bit different,” Hermione added as she entered the appropriate sequence of numbers for the password to her voicemail that a voice prompt from the phone was asking for. “It’s deeper and--his accent is gone...”

“He talks like a Yank now,” Ron interjected. “It’s strange to hear at first...”

“But it’s him. You can tell it’s Harry,” Hermione reaffirmed as she took a step away from the counter top and phone and let it play without commentary.

The next words that were spoken came from the small speakers in the phone, echoing unnaturally loud in the silent room.

Hey guys...it’s Ev--Harry.

I--er--I know you probably aren’t back yet. You both just left like ten minutes ago actually...but I just thought I’d--er--anyway....


There was a pause as the man on the other end tried to collect himself, his nervousness evident in his words.

I know I’d said I wasn’t ready for everyone else to know...and I’m still not sure how comfortable I really am about it...but I can’t ask you to keep things from your family. I know how important they are to you both and asking you to continue to keep everything from them is selfish...

You’re right. They deserve the chance to know and to try and understand this all...

So whatever you two decide to do...I’m okay with it. I trust that it’ll stay within the family...


There was a few seconds of silence that was only broken by a steadying breath of the person behind the message.

Let me know how things go...and keep in touch. Remember you guys are welcome here anytime...and feel free to call me whenever...

I’m gonna go now, but....I love you both...and...I’m glad you found me...

Bye.


The last farewell spoken in a near whisper and the quiet click of the message ending were the only sounds in the room.

Several people were staring disbelieving at the small mobile phone still open on the counter. Molly was standing, tears clouding her eyes as her hand covered her mouth and attempted to still her emotions. Arthur had an arm around her, as he too seemed at a loss for words.

Hermione’s gaze flickered over Jackson.

Her nephew was not showing the same shock or emotion that several others in the room were displaying. He was instead staring steadily at Remus--his gaze intense and eyes narrowed. Remus was--either purposefully or without thought--looking determinedly downward.

“He’s a professor of photography at a fairly large university,” Hermione found herself explaining. “And he’s--” Hermione began to continue, but was distracted by the fact that all eyes had now shifted away from her.

Everyone had turned their attention to Jackson, who had taken a few slow steps across the kitchen and was now standing in front of Remus. Remus had looked up too, suddenly aware of Jackson’s close presence.

“Jackson,” Remus responded quietly as he looked up into the young man’s face.

“You knew,” Jackson said in a quiet voice, neither it or his stare wavering.

“I’m sorry,” Remus told him in a near whisper, his shame and guilt evident in his breathless reply

“All this time...” Jackson said softly as he shook his head nearly imperceptibly. His brows furrowed slightly and his features darkened as he struggled to hold emotion in check.

“Jackson...I don’t what I can say that--” Remus continued to try and apologize in vain. It was interrupted by Jackson’s heavy, steadying sigh as he turned away from Remus.

It looked as though Jackson was poised to walk away, but he stopped after only a step he turned back towards Remus.

Before anyone could take in what was happening or react, Jackson had raised his arm and cocked it backwards. Without hesitation, he brought his fist swiftly forward, his closed hand connecting with a sickening thud and crack against Remus’s face.

Remus stumbled backwards against the cabinets as cries of shock and shouts of Jackson’s name echoed throughout the room. But before anyone could do anything, Jackson went in for a second strike, landing successive blows as Remus remained slumped against the cupboards. He was either too stunned or unwilling to defend himself.

Ron was the first one to overcome his shock and spring into action. Hermione watched as her husband was the across the room in a single step, grabbing his nephew’s arms before he had a chance to swing again.

Jackson now struggled against Ron’s grasp as his anger was now directed towards not being allowed to punch and injure.

“Calm down, Jackson,” Ron tried to tell the young man as he tried to free himself from his uncle’s grip.

“Let...me...go,” Jackson huffed out as he succeeded in pulling himself free. Surprised by the young man’s strength, Ron lunged at Jackson again as he made to attack Remus. Remus had nearly pulled himself upright using the counter top, his nose bleeding and a thick cut on his upper lip.

Ron succeeded in hauling his nephew away, this time wrapping his arms completely around Jackson in a bear hug and physically dragging him across the kitchen.

“Get the hell off me!” Jackson yelled loudly as he tried to squirm away. Ron only held onto him tighter.

“What...so you can...punch him again?” Ron asked as he struggled with the hold.

“The bastard deserves it...” Jackson said angrily as he struggled with no avail against his Uncle Ron’s hold.

“Not worth it, mate,” Ron said quietly as he continued to hold onto Jackson, who was breathing raggedly, but had stopped trying to escape. “Let’s just calm down...and talk about it,” he added quietly as Jackson slumped against him.

“No,” Jackson breathed out as he shrugged off his uncle’s hold. This time, Ron let him go and Jackson did not attempt to go after Remus. He instead took a step away, looking around the kitchen wildly and spinning slowly on the spot as he continued to breathe hard, adrenaline still pumping through his body. He looked quite lost and panicked at either what he’d learned, or what he’d just done

“Jackson...sweetheart.”

Jacks on stopped momentarily at the sound of the calming voice. He locked eyes with his mum, who had been the one to speak and had taken a step towards him.

For a moment it looked like he might bridge the gap between them and perhaps accept an embrace from his mother. But instead Jackson shook his head slightly from side to side and moved towards the door. In three quick strides he had reached it and threw it open. Before anyone could react, Jackson was gone--bolting through the garden and out onto the grounds of the Burrow.

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