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SIYE Time:3:58 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: 102983; Chapter Total: 4955





Author's Notes:
I have to sincerely apologize for this next chapter being over 2 months late. It seemed that when I had the motivation to write, I had no time and vice versa. But I do have the next chapter started and things really start to roll there on how the eventual reunion is to happen. This chapter is what I call the reactions of Jackson and Ginny.




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The only word that could be used to describe the mood of the room was ‘stunned’.

From the previous revelation of Harry’s survival, to the blows that Jackson had landed and his abrupt departure--nothing about the past minutes had been expected.

Ginny’s head was pounding and her mind reeling.

She made to follow her son, who had fled the kitchen through the back screen door. Even though nothing in her own head made sense at the moment, it was her natural instinct to go to him and make sure he was okay.

Her progress was impeded, however, as Ron stepped in front of her.

“I’ll go,” he told her as he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I’ll make sure he’s okay.”

Her first urge was to shrug him off and go herself. But surprisingly she instead found herself nodding, watching as her brother moved away from her and left the kitchen through the same door that her son had gone through not a minute ago.

Ginny suddenly felt very warm and uncomfortable as most eyes in the room seem to move towards her--their attention unnerving and unsettling as she stood there.

She wondered if this is what Jackson had felt before he’d fled--she felt like she needed to get away from their stares in order to breathe and to get her mind straight. There was just so much going through it right now that she wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold things together much longer. And she certainly wasn’t ready for her mother’s attempts at soothing and comforting her and she didn’t think she could stand it if Remus addressed her directly.

Seeking solitude and solace for her own broken and jumbled thoughts, Ginny left the kitchen without a word. She walked into the now empty sitting room, the dark quiet of the space oddly calming. Without much thought as to where her feet were taking her, Ginny continued moving towards the mantel. She soon found herself standing there, staring blankly at the rows of photographs staring back at her.

Her eyes roved over the sea of smiling faces in the photographs, automatically searching for the few frames near the back that she always sought out when she stood here.

In several of the photos he had been lounging against the side of the frame or sitting on the ground in the background. As her shoulders and head cast a shadow over the photos, the figures of Harry in the photos became aware of her presence and straightened up--each vying for her attention.

Most of the photo figures of Harry were solo in frames, each smiling, winking or waving up at her as they always did. The one photo that existed that contained the two of them together was also looking up at her, smiling. Photo Harry had his arms wrapped around her own self-image, who was returning the embrace as the two were alternating smiling up at the real Ginny and then at each other, looking as though they’d very much like to kiss.

But her black and distressed mood must have been completely clear and obvious as the figures in the photos stopped mid-greeting. Smiles faded, eyebrows raised and heads cocked in concerned confusion. One figure had bowed his head in shame as if he understood her anger and confusion was directed at him and the Ginny in the photo of them together was now staring daggers at her Harry, her arms having dropped from around his neck.

“Why?” Ginny breathed out as she caught the eye of one of the curious photo Harry’s looking up at her. “Why did you do this to us?”

The photos of Harry continued to look sad, many more looking ashamed and avoiding eye contact as they looked down and away from her.

“Ginny?”

Ginny didn’t look up at the sound of her name, or respond to pressure of the gentle hand that settled on her shoulder.

“Ginny, I know how difficult this must be...”

At the last words, Ginny turned her head to face her sister-in-law.

“No you don’t,” Ginny replied quietly as she cast a small, sad smile at Hermione. Hermione looked as though she’d regretted her choice of comforting words and tried to look apologetic.

“Not when I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be feeling,” Ginny added as she let out a deep, steadying breath. “I don’t...I still don’t want to believe any of this is true...

Hermione nodded, conveying her understanding that nothing about this situation should be plausible or believable.

“But that was him,” Ginny continued. “You were right--his accent is different--but I’d know his voice anywhere...”

“But I can’t understand why,” Ginny admitted as she swiped at a tear that had finally managed to escape from the corner of her eye. “Why he made this decision, why Remus and the others would actually agree to help him carry this out and....why he hasn’t come come back to us.”

“It’s hard to understand, I know,” Hermione admitted. “But I know that it was the absolute hardest decision he’s had to make in his life. And in talking to him--I know, that since he’s remembered who he is and everything about his past, that he’s second-guessed and had second-thoughts about those very decisions. And I don’t think there’s been a day that’s gone by in the past few months that he hasn’t wondered if it was the right one...or even that he might regret everything.”

“His recent regret doesn’t change the past 18 years,” Ginny said without much thought as her anger seemed to flare up at the insinuation that he was now feeling sorry or having regrets about leaving them all. While the revelation that Harry was alive should have been something of a happy, momentous occasion--Ginny couldn’t help it that the feelings of anger and abandonment were welling up instead.

“He knows that,” Hermione replied. “And believe me...he expects anger and hurt and everything you’re feeling.”

“It’s not about me,” Ginny responded as she rubbed her face tiredly and turned momentarily from her sister-in-law. “Jackson--” Ginny began, turning back towards Hermione.

“Ron will find him and make sure he’s okay,” Hermione assured her.

Ginny shook her head as Hermione mistook the meaning of her words.

“What does this mean for him?” Ginny went on. “I mean...I punished for him coming up with some crazy idea that his father was alive...and now....”

“Ginny...I’m sure Jackson can find it in him to forgive you for that,” Hermione assured her.

“It’s not even that...” Ginny admitted. “Did you...did you tell him...about Jackson?” Ginny asked, carefully measuring Hermione’s reaction to her question.

Hermione shook her head.

“Ron and I talked about it at length,” Hermione admitted. “But it was one more shock we didn’t want to overwhelm him with at first. And... I didn’t think we were the ones who should break that to him.”

Ginny could only nod as at least one reason for anger seemed to abate slightly. If Harry had been told about his son, then there would have been no reason in the world that would have excused him from not coming back immediately to them. Her own hurt she could and would have to deal with, but to think that it extended to her son was beyond comprehension.

So at least there was that. Harry didn’t know about Jackson--so it wasn’t as if he had chosen to ignore the fact and remain away.

“So he’s well?” someone else asked and Ginny turn to find and realize for the first time that she and Hermione were not alone in the sitting room. It had been her mother who had spoken her question aloud. Angelina, Fleur and Ginny’s father had followed them into the room. They were all watching the scene nervously.

Hermione glanced at Ginny before she answered Molly.

“He is,” she replied with a nod and a small smile. “He hasn’t had a completely easy road over the years... but he’s successful now as a photographer and from what we’ve seen--as a professor.”

“You know how in the past we’ve talked about and wondered what he’d be like after all this time?” Hermione continued, this time directing her words back at Ginny. Ginny nodded back, remembering several conversations over the years in which they’d discussed at length what Harry would be like or would have been doing had he survived.

“He’s a lot like we thought he’d be,” Hermione added. “He’s...Harry of old in many ways. Things he says, mannerisms and nervous habits--they’re all him. There were some stretches of time where it was like nothing had changed. I was talking to my best friend again and in some ways it could have been only a few days since I’d last seen or talked to him.”

Ginny could feel the emotions inside her well up again as she listened to Hermione speak of Harry so freely and passionately.

“But he’s different too,” Hermione added as she wiped away the moisture that threatened to escape from the corner of her eye. “I know that sounds so contradictory to say...but as much as he’s Harry, he’s Evan Smith too. He’s been another man for nearly 18 years and it’s it hard for him to separate the two. It’s hard to explain...but he’s more confident and there’s a relaxed quality about him that wasn’t there before...”

In Ginny’s mind, she was trying to imagine the man that Hermione was speaking about. For so long she had had her own picture of what he would be like. The thought that that image might be altered or changed drastically was a distressing thought all of the sudden.

She’d created the Harry in her mind’s eye from the final happy moment that she’d had of him that last morning nearly 18 years ago. Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she could still picture his calm, peaceful face as he lay sleeping on the pillow next to her. As the years had gone by he had aged with her--his features hardening and changing--but his long, dark lashes, his carefree smile and the way the tendrils of dark hair that fell across his face were always the same.

Trying to imagine him now, as he was being described, was somehow odd to her. Which perhaps wasn’t surprising given that the very thought that Harry was alive after all this time was still beyond her.

“Does he have a family?”

Again, Ginny looked up and her eyes found her mother, who looked just as hesitant as her question had sounded when she’d spoken. It seemed that everyone in the room was extremely surprised at not only the question but equally as interested in the answer that Hermione might have as their gazes went from Molly to Hermione in a strange mix of curiosity and nervousness.

Ginny felt that same sense of nervous curiosity, but it was also mixed with an overwhelming feeling of dread of finding out exactly what the answer was. There were just so many different emotions, thoughts and questions racing through her mind, that she wasn’t sure how she might handle whatever news she was about to get.

“He’s not married,” Hermione replied carefully, glancing back at Ginny. “And he’s not in any sort of relationship at the moment...”

The entirely selfish bit of herself had silently cheered at the revelation. But there was still hesitation and something in Hermione’s voice and her demeanor that told Ginny that there was something more...

“But?”

Ginny found herself speaking without thought the question that had been on not only her mind, but that seemed to be on the tips of the others tongue’s as well.

Hermione looked down and away as if she was searching for the right thing to say and right way to say it.

“Ron and I decided not to say anything in front of everybody--not right away,” Hermione admitted as she looked up, glancing around the room before settling on Ginny as if her words had been directed at her.

“We knew that just the news that we’ve sprung on everyone was going to be overwhelming to process and come to terms with,” Hermione continued very quickly. “The very fact that Harry is alive is enough information...”

“Hermione.”

Ginny simply couldn’t take her sister-in-law’s rambling and delaying of the inevitable anymore. Whatever it was that Hermione was going to say--she needed to know.

At the sound of her name, Hermione had frozen in mid-sentence and stopped to look at Ginny in nervous surprise.

“Just....say whatever you need to say,” Ginny told her steadily and with a reassuring nod.

Hermione obviously was reluctant to just come out and say what she needed to--perhaps in fear that it might upset them--or more specifically, Ginny.

But as a thousand different scenarios and guesses at what Hermione might know swirled through her mind--Ginny couldn’t quite pin-point what emotion she should be feeling as she awaited Hermione’s words. She wasn’t sure if she should be fearful or perhaps even angry. All she could manage right now was a strange sense of overwhelming curiosity.

“He...he has a daughter,” Hermione said slowly. “She’s four--well, she’ll be five at the end of the month,” Hermione added quietly as Ginny heard the audible reactions of several people in the room. And from the corner of her eye, she saw her mother’s hand fly to cover her mouth in surprise.

“Harry’s a dad,” Hermione said simply, this time her eyes locking solely on Ginny.

Ginny could only stare back evenly, meeting her sister-in-laws gaze steadily.

What had Hermione expected? Was Ginny supposed to have cried out or perhaps collapsed into the nearby armchair in response to this revelation?

Those were certainly not the urges that had manifested at hearing this news. She, however, was experiencing an odd sense of detachment and the rising of feelings she did not truly understand. She’d scarcely begun to comprehend what Harry being alive and well might mean--so the addition of learning that he had a daughter only added to that sense of muddledness.

Her first reaction to Hermione’s words, ‘Harry’s a dad,’ had initially been, ‘Of course he is.’ Harry’d been a dad for the past 17 years. He just didn’t know it.

But as the reality of what Hermione had meant begun to process, Ginny found herself picturing a scene that she’d imagined many times before. But this time there was a different child inserted in that vision than any of the other previous times her mind had wandered into contemplation.

“He’s happy?” Ginny found herself asking as she continued to conjure that scene in her mind, finding that picturing Harry with his own daughter brought a

To Ginny’s surprise, Hermione’s previously worried expression changed to a slow, wide smile at the question.

“What?” Ginny asked.

“That’s the same thing he wondered about you...” Hermione told her as she continued to smile.

Ginny’s mind whirred into overdrive at this particular revelation.

Harry had asked about her?

What had he wanted to know? And what exactly had Ron and Hermione told him about her?

“He...he did?” was all Ginny could manage to muster as a feeble response.

Hermione nodded.

“We’d been telling him about the family--marriages and kids--and when we didn’t mention you...he asked,” Hermione explained.

“We did tell him that you had been married,” Hermione continued, pausing momentarily again as if she were weighing the decision of whether or not to continue on. “And...we mentioned that you had two sons...”

Ginny could only look inquiringly at her sister-in-law, having been under the impression that they hadn’t told Harry about Jackson.

“I think he’s under the assumption that both of your boys are from your marriage to Paul,” Hermione told Ginny after taking in reaction. “He didn’t ask their ages or press the subject any further. As I said...he wanted to know if you were happy...if you were okay.”

Ginny wanted to know what Ron and Hermione had told Harry about her own happiness, but was interrupted by the arrival of Bill, who had just entered the sitting room looking rather cold and windswept.

“We found him, Gin,” Bill said breathlessly as he turned to her. “Ron found Jackson sitting down by the banks of the creek. He’s upset--pretty shaken up...but Ron’s talking to him now...” Bill continued to explain.

Instantly Ginny felt some of the tension she had been holding release itself at the news. While she’d spent the past few minutes trying to digest everything that was going on--her worry for her son had been near the forefront of her mind.

“Thanks, Bill,” Ginny replied gratefully as Bill nodded in understanding.

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

His hand was throbbing steadily and he could feel the muscles and tendons swelling as he whole hand began to stiffen. He knew he’d done some level of damage to it--perhaps even broken it--but at the moment he really couldn’t bring himself to care a whole lot about the physical pain or discomfort.

Jackson’s mind was filled with a whole myriad of emotions that seemed to be taking up all of his mental energy, leaving no room for any concern over whether or not he’d broken his hand. He was confused and angry and so many things he couldn’t even begin to describe or explain aloud.

His father was alive--meaning that the past few months of madness and obsession on his part had not been some latent manifestation of a deeper mental problem of his--but instead was some crazy catalyst towards unraveling the truth behind some long kept secret.

A secret that was sure to change his life and had thus far thrown him for a loop and only succeeded in throwing his mind into a frenzy of disjointed and confused thoughts and emotions that he wasn’t even close to being able to reign in and make sense of.

At this point he wasn’t the least bit concerned about the fact that he had punched Remus in front of most of his own family. Jackson wasn’t even considering whatever consequences might come as a result of the attack. Whatever punishment there might be, he really could care less about. In his mind, Remus had deserved every blow and Jackson wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

Screw any enchantment or spell that had prevented him from remembering the finer details as the years had gone by. The fact remained that Remus agreed in the first place to help his father out and take him from them all. Who in their right mind would consent to something like that in the first place?

And what was worse, from what Jackson had gathered, there had been an overlap in time where Remus had visited his dad in whatever hospital he’d been in and had known at the same time, that his mother had been pregnant with him.

Remus had known--and yet he’d done nothing to change the course of things. He’d gone on living his own life for years when Jackson’s own could have been so very different...

Jackson’s internal struggle continued on even as he registered the sound of approaching footsteps from behind him, the sound of boots crunching through snow quite loud in the quiet afternoon.

Aware of the presence of someone else, Jackson did not turn to acknowledge the newcomer. He instead continued to stare out over the half frozen creek, sniffing back quietly the emotion bubbling beneath the surface.

Jackson knew that it was most likely one of his uncles or perhaps even his grandfather who had come to check on him. But he couldn’t even manage a glance over to identify the person who had joined him and had quietly moved to sit on the bank beside him.

“I’m not sorry for punching him,” Jackson found himself saying, his own voice sounding shaky and defensive. “I’m not going to apologize...”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to,” the voice said quietly from beside him.

It was his Uncle Ron.

He should have known who it would be. His favorite uncle had the knack for being able to put things into perspective and talk to Jackson about most anything. But Jackson wasn’t so sure that his uncle would be able to do anything about his mood this time...

“I wanted to do the same thing when I walked in on them in the dungeons and they explained everything,” Ron continued. “I wanted to hit him, throttle him--rage at him...and at the same time, a part of me wanted to scream and cry...”

His uncle paused for moment and stared out over the creek, watching a spot in the stream where it hadn’t frozen over and the water bubbling underneath could be seen.

“But I really just stood there for a bit--totally gobsmacked and overwhelmed by what I was hearing,” he continued on. “I managed to yell a bit...but I ended up storming out too. I needed to get out...needed to go somewhere to think. I managed to steer myself towards the forest before--”

“You ran into me outside the greenhouse,” Jackson said automatically, looking up and glancing sideways at his Uncle for the first time.

Ron nodded.

“I knew something was wrong that day,” Jackson added as he recalled the events of that late September day. “I even asked....but you said everything was fine...”

“In know,” his uncle admitted. “I couldn’t tell you then. I didn’t know how...”

Jackson nodded, understanding just how difficult a situation his Uncle Ron had been put in and why he had chosen to withhold the monumental and life-altering information he had learned that day.

“I probably wouldn’t have believed you,” Jackson admitted. “I still don’t know how I’m supposed to believe this is real...”

“I know,” Ron admitted again. “I didn’t let in for real until I was sitting across from him in his kitchen talking to him,” he added with a wistful smile.

“It’s really him?” Jackson asked, his question quiet, yet anxious and pleading at the same time--as if begging for reassurance.

Ron nodded, turning to face his nephew and meet his eyes.

“It is,” he replied simply.

Jackson had to look away as he felt a new surge of emotions begin to well up from within. It was as if the sudden concrete affirmation by his Uncle had finally untapped all the grief that had been building inside him.

He hadn’t wanted to break down. He wasn’t some sensitive, Nancy boy who was prone to crying all over the place when things got to be too much. That said--he wasn’t the type to fly off the handle and attack people either and he’d proven that bit about himself wrong in the last twenty minutes...

But no matter how hard he tried to hold back the overwhelming emotion, Jackson couldn’t keep the tears from escaping from his eyes and was now having an equally hard time keeping his breathing under control. His composure was crumbling along with what seemed to be what he had know his entire world to be.

As he struggled to keep things under control, he felt his Uncle Ron’s arm come down around his shoulders. Initial instinct wanted him to shrug it off and pull the petulant child. But instead Jackson found himself allowing his uncle to embrace him and pull him close.

The touch also seemed to be the final barrier between holding it all in and letting the dam break wide open. Jackson could no longer hold the sobs back and they came hard and loud in the quiet afternoon.

The tears came as he allowed his uncle to continue to hold him tight, whispering what he expected were meant to be soothing attempts at comfort. Jackson appreciated the sentiment but wasn’t really taking in his uncle’s words. He was too consumed by his own grief and anger to take them in.

As he continued to let his emotions rain free and escape, Jackson tried to figure out exactly why he was crying and no longer letting his anger override everything.

Was it solely the overall sadness of the fact that he could have had his dad in his life all this time? The one thing he’d always yearned for and that--despite the efforts of his once step-father, Paul and his uncles--had been missing in his life had been the absence of a real father-figure.

Or perhaps his tears were really for the fact that it had been other people’s choices that had drastically changed and shaped his life so far. Everything he thought he knew about his father’s death had been completely obliterated in a matter of moments. People he loved and trusted had all been a part of this ‘plan’ and had spent the past 17 years helping keep all this a secret.

Unable pinpoint the reason or even bring himself to even care if he did, Jackson continued to let the tears flow freely as his Uncle Ron continued to try and calm him.

After what seemed like forever, but in actuality was most likely only a few minutes, Jackson finally got a grip on himself and his sobs began to slow and then finally turned into nothing more than sniffles.

“It’ll be okay,” his uncle reassured him quietly as he still held an arm around Jackson.

“Will it?” Jackson asked automatically, reaching up to swipe away at his face and eyes.

It looked for a moment as though his uncle didn’t know how to answer Jackson’s question to him.

How could he answer it? What the hell was supposed to happen now? Things couldn’t just go back to the way they were once supposed to be and life suddenly turn into some fairytale where they all lived happily ever-after...

“Everything will work itself out,” His Uncle Ron finally reassured him after another few seconds passed between them. “I’m not sure how things are going to go on from here...but I know once your dad meets you, he’s going to love you as much as we all do...”

Jackson had heard over and over again in his life that his father would have loved him so very much had he lived, or that he did love him from wherever he was looking down upon them.

But the words from his uncle now were odd to him somehow. His father was very much alive and he had no clue what that meant.

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

Ginny was so very tired.

She’d spent another hour or so at the Burrow after the revelation of Harry’s survival had been revealed. She’d listened to the rest of her family ask questions of Ron and Hermione about what else they had discovered or experienced during their visit. But Ginny had not asked any of the questions that had been spinning about her brain. She’d remained silent, instead trying to make sense out of everything she had learned and what it might mean for the future.

As she stepped out of the flames and into her own living room Ginny’s mind was still reeling. The familiarity and security of her own home was doing nothing to quell the anxiety and the overwhelming confusion that had thrown everything in her world off- kilter.

But as Ginny stepped into the kitchen and became acutely aware of the silence, she remembered the reason why she was here and not still at the Burrow digesting the news.

Ron had sent his Patronus to the occupants of The Burrow, assuring them that Jackson was alright and that he was going to take his nephew back home. Jackson had not wanted to return inside his grandparents’ home and had not wanted to return to school.

So the silence had surprised Ginny because she half-expected to hear yelling or shouting upon her return--a continuation of the violent outburst she’d witnessed of her son only a little over an hour ago. But her home was silent, the only sound was the ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall.

Curious and worried at the same time, Ginny began slowly walking towards the hallway that led to eldest son’s bedroom. But she had only made it a few steps when she saw a door on the right hand side of the darkened hallway open. Ginny stopped, expecting Jackson, but was instead met by her own brother.

“Hey,” Ron said quietly as he moved towards her, stepping into the lit kitchen.

“Is he okay?” Ginny asked without returning Ron’s greeting.

“He’s upset, obviously,” Ron admitted with a sigh. “He calmed down and we got to the point of just talking and he asked questions...but there’s a lot going on inside his head right now.”

Ginny could only nod in reply and understanding, knowing full well the exact feeling Ron had just described for her son.

“He just nodded off a couple of minutes ago,” Ron added. Ginny fixed him with curious look. It certainly wasn’t that late in the evening that Jackson would be sleeping.

“I put some Dreamless Sleep Potion in the tea I gave him,” Ron admitted.

“Just a bit,” he added in clarification when Ginny looked concerned. “ I just wanted him to drift off for a while. I figured he could use a bit of rest and a reprieve from everything. Plus, it’ll give his hand a bit more time to heal...”

“His hand?” Ginny asked automatically.

“Well...he did punch a werewolf full on and clocked him pretty good,” Ron explained with the slightest hint of amusement in his voice. “It was broken in two places. I set and healed it...it should be fine.”

“Thanks, Ron,” Ginny said gratefully as she let a relieved sigh. “Thanks for going after him and making sure that he--”

“Ginny, It wasn’t a problem,” Ron interrupted her. “I figured he needed someone who wasn’t still reeling and had had a bit more time to process all of this...”

Ginny nodded, not knowing what she might have said or done to calm her son and diffuse his anger when she was in such a state herself. As much as she had wanted to go to him, she was glad that Ron had been the one to help him.

“How are you?” Ron asked seriously when his sister did not speak.

Ginny was momentarily surprised by the question--not that Ron had asked it, but because she wasn’t sure of her own answer.

“Quite honestly...I don’t know,” she admitted freely with a tired, heavy sigh. “I think I’ve probably said or thought those words more than a dozen times in the past few hours.”

“Gin, it’s completely understandable...” Ron responded.

“I’m angry...I’m confused...sad...” Ginny admitted as she leaned against the closest counter top and crossed her arms across her chest. “Basically a whole load of things I’m not sure how to put together so they make any sense.”

“Is there a bit of happiness mixed in with all that?” Ron asked curiously as he had listened to his sister list off the various emotions she was feeling.

Ginny thought carefully about the question, searching deep within herself and attempting to pull anything out of the murky mess of her mind that might provide a concrete answer.

“Well...yeah,” Ginny admitted as she swallowed heavily, her voice wavering as she attempted to look away.

It was the truth. Buried underneath all the confusion was a relief and a sense of hope that had never been there before. Her reality had been that the man she had loved as a young woman had died, leaving her to carry and then raise their son without him. The idea that the actuality had been different, while drumming up all sorts of negative emotions, had brought along a strange sense of promise for what might be to come.

But what could the future possibly bring to them now that there was one?

Perhaps sensing her inner monologue, Ron moved towards her, closing the space between them as he pulled Ginny into a hug. Ginny accepted the embrace, letting her brother pull her in and wrap his long arms around her.

“This is a good thing, Gin,” Ron whispered as brother and sister continued to cling to one another. “I know that there are so many things uncertain...but we’ve got him back...”

Ginny let those final words sink in as she remained in the embrace.

Harry was back...but how was he going to be in their lives from now on?

Still mulling that final question in her head, Ginny finally stepped away from her brother’s grasp after a few more moments.

“You probably should head home,” Ginny said as she attempted to gather himself again. “Hermione was leaving right as I was. She did a lot of answering questions and I reckon she could use a hug like the one you just gave me,” she added with the slightest hint of a smile.

Ron nodded in understanding, knowing that Ginny probably wanted to be left to herself to think and tend to Jackson.

“You’ll be alright?” Ron asked quietly.

“We’ll be fine...” Ginny assured him with a nod. Although at the moment things seemed more out of whack and unsure than ever, she knew there was a semblance of truth in her words.

“Alright,” Ron said with a heavy sigh. “Let us know if you need anything...either of you,” he added as he moved towards the sitting room and the fireplace. Ginny followed her brother to the archway between the kitchen and sitting room, watching as he grabbed a handful of Floo Powder from the container on the mantel.

“Goodnight, Ron.”

“Night, Gin.”

With a flick of his wrist, the flames in the fireplace jumped to life, casting a bright green glow around the room. Ginny watched as Ron bent over, folding his tall frame to fit as he stepped into the flames and quietly murmured the name of his home that he shared with Hermione and their children. And then in a whirl he was gone.

With the house quiet again, Ginny wasn’t sure what to do with herself. Sitting down or relaxing was not an option for her. There was no meaningless task or any program on the television in the sitting room that could occupy her mind and grant her some level of distraction.
Truthfully, she wanted someone else there. Although she’d dismissed Ron, there was a part of her that still wished he was here to talk to and fill up the silence.

And then she remembered that she wasn’t alone in the house.

Slowly she made her way back through the kitchen and towards the back hallway stepping quietly, the hardwood floors beneath her feet creaking slightly with each footstep. Like so many times before, she stopped just outside the closed worn wooden door on the right side of the hallway. But instead of knocking straight away, Ginny placed a hand on the worn surface, closing her eyes and steadying herself before she pushed it open gently.

Ginny stepped in, waiting a moment as her eyes adjusted to the dim light filtering in through the curtains.

Jackson was lying in bed, covered by a blanket that Ron had evidently pulled over him. But the way her son was sleeping seemed unnatural. Usually Jackson was sprawled face down, his arms and legs hanging wildly off the edges of the bed. But Jackson was curled on his side, his back facing the door. He also wasn’t snoring like he usually did and the lack of noise was odd. Ginny figured that the way he was sleeping had a lot to do with the fact that the sleep had been forced by the hand of the Dreamless Sleep Potion his uncle had given him.

She quietly crossed the room and lowered herself carefully onto the edge of his bed, trying not to displace the mattress too much and risk waking him up.

Finally settled, Ginny cast a watchful eye over her son, taking in his sleeping form as she’d done so many times before in the past 17 years. There had been so many nights those first few years when she would just watch her baby boy sleep as she leaned over the rails of his crib, amazed at the fact that he was in her life. She’d watched him grow from infant and toddler to the young man he was now and she was constantly in wonder of the fact that he was hers.

While that wonder was still there now, but it was mixed with a sense of sadness for him. Jackson had always been such a happy and funny boy and young man--but to have seen him so broken, confused and angry earlier today wasn’t something she’d ever been prepared for. And she wondered now what exactly had today’s revealing events done to him...

Jackson shifted slightly in his induced sleep, turning his head towards her as he continued to lay against his pillows. He looked peaceful enough, but Ginny could just make out the lines of tension in her son’s face as he slept. Although the potion was designed to give him rest, his body was still carrying obvious signs of previous distress.

Always wanting to comfort her son and take away any of his hurt or pain, Ginny reached out a hand and gently brushed away the jet black fringe that fell casually across his forehead. His hair had always been so soft. She remembered that even when Jackson was a baby, people were always commenting on the fluffy mop of black hair he’d inherited from Harry--marveling at the amount of hair he’d had straight away. But what had always intrigued her was how soft and fine it really was. Even though he was no longer really her little boy, his black locks were still incredibly soft, no matter how messy or disheveled they sometimes appeared to be.

Her hand went from his fringe and moved downward as she gently caressed the side of Jackson’s face, the back of her hand trailing down his cheek. She was not surprised to find the slightest bit of stubble there, although she remembered the day she had been shocked to learn that her ‘baby boy’ shaved at all.

It had been a few summers ago, a few days after he’d returned from school that she’d walked in on him in the bathroom--his face lathered in shaving cream as he had been carefully running the razor across his skin. Apparently Uncle Bill had intervened sometime during the semester, making a keen observation and suggestion that the peach fuzz on his nephew’s face was getting to be a bit more. He’d taken Jackson aside one weekend morning on the pretense of just catching up and chatting with his nephew and the conversation had turned into a lesson on the finer techniques of shaving.

Her son had certainly grown into a very handsome and put together young man and she was proud of him in so many ways. But she was terrified now as to what this all might do to him.

As her thoughts continued to whirl about in her head, Jackson stirred beside her, letting out a heavy sigh as he rolled onto his back.

Ginny watched silently, waiting to see if he was going to remain sleeping or not. Ginny wasn’t sure how much Dreamless Sleep potion her brother had given Jackson, so the effects and the length of time he would be under were unknown to her.

“Mum?” Jackson breathed out drowsily as his eyes cracked open the tiniest bit. Ginny could just see the the bright green irises beneath his eyelids as he struggled to open them, trying his hardest to blink back sleep and focus on her.

“It’s me, sweetheart,” Ginny assured him as she again brushed away the fringe on Jackson’s forehead. It was now evident that he was trying to overcome the effects of the potion and wake up enough to interact with her. But he was losing that battle quite obviously as he failed to keep his eyes open for more than a second or two before they closed on him and his head lolled back onto his pillow.

“Uncle...Ron...” Jackson managed to get out, sounding quite disconnected.

“I know,” Ginny said with a hint of smile. “He gave you something to help you rest.”

“I...I...” Jackson tried to articulate with even less success than his last attempt.

“Shhhh,” Ginny soothed quietly. “Don’t fight it...just sleep Jackson,” she added in a comforting whisper.

All he managed to respond with this time was a half-hearted groan that clearly relayed that he didn’t want to sleep and wasn’t enjoying this state of forced sleep.

“I know you want to talk, but right now you need to just rest,” she told him. “We’ll talk tomorrow and try and process everything then.”

Almost as if admitting a level of defeat, Jackson closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh as he tried to relax. Ginny waited for a few more seconds before moving, hoping that he’d finally succumbed to the full effects of the Dreamless Sleep Potion. But just when she made to stand up from the bed, Jackson stirred again.

“Is this...real?” he asked quietly. His voice was quiet and his were still closed, but there was no question he’d spoken again or to what he was asking about.

“It is,” Ginny told him simply as she leaned forward and planted a kiss on the side of his head.

“Dad’s alive...”

This time Jackson’s breathy reply was more of a statement than a question he was seeking confirmation for. And he was now gazing at her from behind heavy and half-open lids, the green of his eyes still hazy and his drowsiness evident.

Ginny nodded, unable to reply with words as she felt tears come to the corner of her eyes as her emotions welled up.

It was those bloody green eyes!

With Harry, they’d gotten her so many times. On many occasions she’d found herself caught in his gaze, the clearness and the depth of their color taking her breath away and rendering her incapable of thought and speech.

In their son they did the same exact thing--at times the effect was even more striking.

“What does it mean?” Jackson asked quietly, closing his eyes again. “What happens...to us?” he added thickly.

Ginny swallowed heavily.

“I don’t know exactly what this news means,” Ginny admitted in a shaky whisper, taking Jackson’s hand in both of hers. She squeezed his hand gently, feeling his fingers flex in a sleepy response. “And I don’t know what’s going to happen from here on out...”

“But whatever happens--whatever is decided--it’s not going to change us,” Ginny assured him. “It’s always been you, your brother and I--and we’ll always have our little family no matter what goes on from now on. It’s been us since the beginning and whatever comes...we’ll get through it and face it together...” she added, trailing off quietly.

Jackson was silent in response to her words; the only sign that he’d heard or comprehended anything she’d said was a slight nod of his head as his head sunk back into the pillows.

Ginny waited a few more moments but this time Jackson did not stir. Shifting and lifting herself from the bed, Ginny stood up, lingering over her son for another minute before finally turning and leaving his bedroom and closing the door behind her.
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