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SIYE Time:3:05 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: 102980; Chapter Total: 5364





Author's Notes:
It may possibly be a while before I post another chapter after this one. I'm going to take some time to re-evaluate where I'm going with this. I need to get my mind right and motivation back before I decide to go back to work on it.




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She was now at the point between sleepy and exhaustion. She’d spent half the night tossing and turning once she’d finally decided to try and sleep, retiring to her bedroom at about 1:30 that morning. But after a few hours of lying in bed and finding nothing more than 15 minutes or less stretches of a restless sleep, Ginny had given up and pulled herself from bed.

That’s how she found herself now, sitting at the kitchen table silently sipping at her morning tea as she picked at the half-eaten breakfast she’d made herself more than an hour ago to occupy herself.

She was in the process of moving around a bit of egg on her plate when the sound of a door opening and closing down the hallway met her ears. Ginny turned around in her chair just as a very sleepy looking Jackson came into the kitchen. He was fully dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a warm looking grey hooded sweatshirt.

“Hey there,” Ginny greeted him in as warm of a voice as she could muster. “There are some eggs still warming if want them...or I can make you whatever you’re hungry for...”

Jackson shook his head, looking away as he rubbed a hand across his face tiredly. The sound of his palm as it rubbed across his stubbled cheeks and chin was loud in the quiet of the kitchen.

“I’m gonna go,” Jackson said quietly.

Ginny could only stare at him in confusion.

“You don’t have to go back to school right now,” Ginny assured him. “You can take a couple of days...”

Jackson shook his head again.

“Sweetheart, I know last night we didn’t get to talk about this...but we should take some time today,” Ginny told him.

“Later,” Jackson managed to say as he swallowed heavily. “I just...I’m going go see Anna,” he added, looking away from his mum. “She has class this morning...but I’m going to go wait at her place at school for her.”

“I...I need her right now,” Jackson admitted, sounding as though it was something he desperately believed and at the same time had a hard time admitting to his mother.

Ginny watched her son carefully for a few moments.

The idea that Jackson needed somebody other than her right now was something she hadn’t been prepared to hear. She was his mother and he’d always needed her--had always come to her in times of trouble. So to hear that she wasn’t the one he wanted or needed to comfort him in such a confusing time was almost too much. Her initial reaction was to be hurt and she barely concealed and held back the shaky breath she was set to release.

But as much as Jackson’s admission hurt her, she completely understood why he needed Anna instead of her.

She had once needed someone so badly; had had that one person who she needed to cling to and turn to when things got bad. Harry had been that rock and the safe place for her. And even after she’d lost him--he’d been the one person she wished was there because just his presence alone would have made things better for her.

So because she understood, Ginny did not protest or become upset at her son’s admission.

“Alright,” Ginny whispered. “Just...if you go anywhere else, please let me know. No running off or disappearing on me today, okay?” she added quietly.

“I promise,” Jackson assured her with a reassuring nod. And then in only two strides, Jackson closed the space between them and engulfed her in a hug. Ginny automatically melted into his embrace, letting her son wrap his surprisingly strong arms around her.

“I love you, Mum,” he whispered as he gave her one last squeeze before separating himself from her. Ginny watched silently as he moved away, reaching for his coat that hung on a peg next to the door, slipping it over his shoulders.

“I’ll be home later,” Jackson assured her as he zipped up the front of his coat nearly to his chin.

Ginny nodded and watched Jackson turn from her and leave the kitchen through the side entrance door.

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

She really wasn’t trying to worry. He’d told her he’d be home ‘later’, but she wasn’t exactly sure how late he’d meant. It was just past dinner time and Jackson had still not returned from Anna’s school flat. It was true that in their world he was an adult and had every right to come and go as he pleased. But she knew that he understood the situation enough to not stay away for long.

Hermione, Ron and even her mother had Floo’d over to check in on her and talk for a bit at different periods during the day. Ginny had to admit that she hadn’t been particularly engaged in any of those conversations. No matter how her mother or Hermione tried to probe and pry out her feelings on the situation, Ginny hadn’t offered much to either of them. She still had no clue as to how she should be feeling or what she wanted to happen--so there really wasn’t much to share with them.

But nobody had checked in the past few hours, and without Jackson home, Ginny was growing increasingly restless and lonely. She wanted to go through the myriad of emotions bouncing around her head and try to make some sort of sense out of them. But sitting here at the desk in her study, trying in vain to go over some of the stories her staff had submitted for editing, was not the way to get anything sorted out. The words on the parchment were blending and bleeding together as much as the anger, confusion and elation were in her own mind...

Ginny pushed aside the stack of parchment she’d been staring at, throwing her quill aside as she reached for the seldom used telephone that sat in its charger to her left. Slowly and carefully she dialed the number that had been written on a scrap of paper that usually was stuck on the cork-board that hung next to the kitchen doorway along with other notes and reminders.

Ginny raised the receiver to her ear, listening quietly as it rang. After four rings, someone picked up and the quiet voice of a woman answered.

“Hello?”

“Is this Anna?” Ginny asked, hoping that she’d had the right number and had successfully reached who she’d been seeking.

“Yes, it is,” the girl confirmed. “Is this Ms. Weasley--Ginny?” Anna asked, uncertainly. Anna usually addressed her by her first name, so being addressed so formally at first was odd.

“Yes--how did you know?” Ginny asked.

“I’ve got your home number programmed into my mobile, so it showed up when you called, “ Anna explained.

“Right,” Ginny replied, feeling a little stupid. “Is Jackson there with you?” Ginny asked, cutting to the chase and going straight to what she was interested in.

“Yeah,” Anna said with a heavy sigh. “He’s been here all day...”

Ginny let out a relieved sigh of her own. There had been a part of her that had been worried that her son had gone somewhere other than where he’d assured her he’d be--perhaps made another trip across the pond to America...

“He’s--er--actually sleeping now,” Anna added when Ginny did not speak. “I can wake him up and send him home--”

“No,” Ginny interrupted. “Leave him sleep. I just wanted to make sure he was there...”

Ginny paused a moment before Anna could speak.

“Is he okay?” Ginny asked quietly.

“He was really upset, but he’s...better,” Anna offered, as if searching for the right word to describe that current state of her boyfriend. “He showed up this morning in quite a state. I came back from class to find him in my room pacing around and doing that thing where he continually messes up his hair with his hand when he’s nervous or frustrated,” she continued to explain.

“I tried to get him to calm down and to explain to me what was wrong or what had happened,” Anna added. “But he just started rambling and not making a whole lot of sense.”

“He told you about what happened last night?” Ginny asked.

“When I finally got him to slow down, he told me that last night it came out that his dad had survived somehow after all,” Anna replied. “He said that it had all been kept a secret and people he trusted were in on it. He said that his hunches--his obsession with that picture--were all connected to this...that we’d been right.”

There was a stretch of a few moments silence over the phone after Anna had paused in her explanation.

“Is it true?”

Anna’s question was a whisper. And there was a tone of desperate confirmation there--as if she needed just one small ‘yes’ to clear up that last shred of doubt she may have had about what Jackson had told her.

“Yes,” Ginny replied quietly. “It’s all true.”

“Wow...” Anna replied as she let out a shaky breath. “That’s just--it’s all just surreal to think about...”

“You’re telling me,” Ginny said with a sigh before she could help herself.

“Are you okay?” Anna asked uncertainly and Ginny felt a rush of emotion for the young woman on the other end of the phone and the concern she was showing.

“I think so,” Ginny replied truthfully. “It’s just really hard to grasp it all and put anything into any sort of perspective or plan for what’s to come...”

“Jackson was really torn about coming here instead of staying home,” Anna told her. “I tried to tell him just to go back home, but then I was almost afraid that he’d just take off instead.”

“He was going to go back to the states?” Ginny asked, trying to keep the slight alarm out of her voice. Jackson had promised that he’d not do anything rash before he’d left their home that morning. Although she understood his desire for immediate resolution, she was glad that Anna was able to convince him otherwise for the moment.

“I think he might have,” Anna admitted. “But then he told me how his dad didn’t know about him yet and I convinced him that it might just complicate things more if he just goes rushing head-long into things again. We went for a walk instead around campus and the town here, just to get his mind off things for a bit. We had dinner and then came back to my flat about an hour ago and he dozed off...”

“I would have liked to talk with him straight away,” Ginny admitted. “But I knew I wasn’t going to change his mind...”

“I’m sorry,” Anna said quietly, as though it was somehow her fault that Ginny’s son had chosen her.

“Anna...I’m so glad he has you,” Ginny told her. “I don’t think you realize just how good you are for him,” she added with as much sincerity as she could relay over the phone.

“That means a lot,” Anna said in a low voice. “Thank you.”
--------------------------------- ---------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------- ---------
“Have you talked to Harry any more since last week?”

Ginny heard her mum ask the question and she immediately looked up from the section of newspaper she had been reading at the kitchen table.

It had been a week since the news of Harry’s survival had come out in front of the whole family at the weekly Sunday dinner. And that’s exactly where she found herself again. Most of her family was gathered at The Burrow again, milling about as they waited for the call to the table for dinner. However, the mood had been a bit more subdued and there had been many more whispered conversations amongst them all.

Ginny knew the topic of discussion in many of them, but had failed to hear his name said aloud or any future plans discussed until her mum had raised her question.

Truthfully, this last week Ginny had tried to distance herself from everything and give both her family and herself time to let things sink in. Jackson had gone back to school on Tuesday, promising to stay there and be in touch. And Ginny had left Wednesday afternoon to cover the English team an international Quidditch match in Brazil on Thursday. She had only returned yesterday morning and had tried to keep herself busy with finishing up her own writing and editing those submitted stories of her staff she had had waiting for her upon her return.

But now it seemed that the time for discussion might finally be at hand.

“He actually e-mailed me that next day,” Hermione replied. It had been she who the question had been directed at. “I wrote back and let him know that we had told everyone and that there–of course–had been some emotional reactions,” she added, giving Ginny a sideways glance. Ginny knew that Hermione had been thinking about Jackson’s actions, but she knew that Hermione would not have told Harry specifically about that yet.

“He understood that, of course, and I’ve been messaging back and forth with him all week,” Hermione explained. “We’ve actually been trying to figure out when we might be able to visit again–maybe bring the kids this time…”

“He’d accept visitors?”

The surprised question came again from Ginny’s mum. Hermione and Ron had said that Harry wasn’t ready to come back with them, but they hadn’t said anything about going to him.

“Of course,” Hermione said with a nod. “He’s hesitant to just uproot and come back here, but he wants to keep in touch. He doesn’t want another 17 years to go by between visits…”

Molly smiled and looked relived at the news. Perhaps she had thought Harry’s refusal to return with Ron and Hermione or even on his own once he had remembered had meant that he hadn’t wanted to see them at all.
“He’s busy with classes and grading tests and papers until the 2nd week in December and then he’s going for a week back to New York to visit…his family for an early holiday gathering,” Hermione added, swallowing as if to delay her last words just a bit.

It was odd to hear a group of strangers being described as his family, when his real family was right here. But as far as she knew and had been told those first few hours, Harry had been taken in and practically adopted by the family of a nurse who had cared for him during his months in the hospital. It had sounded like these people were incredibly important to him and so it wasn’t surprising that he would be choosing to spend some time there.

“So we were thinking possibly a Christmas trip,” Hermione continued. “We’d be spending a few days there–celebrating the holidays…”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea,” Molly said as she turned back to stir a pot on top of the cooker. “Maybe we can have a get-together before you leave so we can exchange gifts…give you our gifts for Harry and his little girl.”

“Actually…” Hermione began as she once more gave Ginny a sideways glance. It really did annoy Ginny when her sister-in-law did that.

“We thought that maybe the whole family would be going,” Hermione added carefully. “As in the–entire–Weasley family…”

“All of us?” Molly asked.

Hermione nodded.

“We couldn’t possibly,” Molly replied shaking her head. “There’s just too many people to think to intrude on him–”

“It wouldn’t be a problem at all,” Hermione refuted quickly. “He’s well aware of just how much the family has grown.”

“But to expect him to host us all–”

“We’re not expecting anything,” Ron interrupted his mum, startling Ginny with his words. She hadn’t noticed his arrival and wondered if he’d been in the process of trying to sneak an early bite of something to eat while they had been preoccupied; he was munching on something he’d obviously plucked from the counter.

“Harry’s the one who suggested it,” Ron added once he’d swallowed. “He didn’t want us to be away from the family over the holidays and this might be a way to keep us from missing our annual Christmas–taking the get-together there instead.”

“I really think he just wants to see everybody,” Hermione added quietly. “And I think this was the best way he could think of for that to happen…”

Ginny had remained quiet throughout the exchange. While one part of her was excited at the prospect of getting to see him again, the truth was that the other part of her was terrified. She was almost afraid of how she might react or which of her many feelings would come out in a meeting and reunion with Harry right now.

And she certainly didn’t know if she wanted those mixed feelings to have to sort themselves out in the midst of a holiday gathering…

“It’s an awfully large amount of work to try and put something together for this lot and we take up so much space…” Molly said quietly.

“He honestly doesn’t mind, Mum,” Ron said shaking his head. “Hermione and I didn’t even do anything to try and convince or push him into it–it was all him.”

Hermione nodded.

“And it’s not like the bloke’s house isn’t big enough for us all,” Ron added with a snort . “The place is huge and there’s actually a chance we could lose a kid or two somewhere there and not know it for days,” he added, his comment earning him an amused shake of the head from his wife.

“It’s really okay?” Molly asked again, as if she needed concrete confirmation and to make sure this opportunity wasn’t going to be snatched away again.

“It really is,” Hermione assured her. “And I take it as a good sign of how open he wants things to be now.”

“Well…Arthur and I are in for the trip,” she said with a smile. “And we’ll have to ask the rest of the boys whether their families will be coming or not. But you can tell Harry that we’ll see him for Christmas and that I’ll want to come a bit early and help him in preparing the meal,” she added as she turned back to the stove.

Ginny found herself trying to hold back a small smile at these words. Of course her mum would want a hand in the cooking–making sure all their favorites were covered and Harry had enough food to feed their small army…

“What about you, Ginny?”

Ginny looked up to find her sister-in-law scrutinizing her carefully in the wake of her question.

“Are you going to come with?” Hermione asked when Ginny did not respond to her initial inquiry.

“I’m not sure,” Ginny replied. “I may have to cover the Christmas Day match in Australia.”

“You’ve gotten out of that before,” Ron reminded her quietly.

“Most of my staff have had their requests to be off in and approved,” Ginny told him. “And Andrew is already covering the match in Japan…he can’t do both,” she added, knowing full-well that the matches were a day apart and that her senior reporter, Andrew Gates could very well take care of the coverage for both matches. The Christmas matches were mostly exhibitions between nations–holiday entertainment for those listening on the wireless. In depth print news coverage wasn’t usually a priority for these games.

“What about Jackson?” Ron asked, not choosing to press the issue and challenge Ginny’s excuse.

“What about him?” Ginny asked with a raised brow. “He can’t very well waltz in without warning…and besides, I believe he’s going with Alex.”

It was Ron’s turn to raise a brow in question.

“Alex is going to visit Paul’s family Christmas Eve and Day,” Ginny explained. “Paul invited Jackson to come along and he was going to go for at least one day.”

“Don’t you think Jackson needs to meet Harry sometime soon?” Ron asked concernedly.

“I haven’t exactly figured out the right way to do that, Ron,” Ginny said, her annoyance at the question, rising suddenly. “Have you?”

Ron shook his head.

“It’s not something I’m sure I want to do with everybody there for Christmas,” Ginny admitted. “It’s kind of a big thing to tell someone and since you’re all worried about overwhelming him–“

“It’s a big thing not to tell him…” Ron countered.

“And you two were really keen to do it when you saw him, weren’t you?” Ginny responded. “It’s not so easy a thing to spring on someone, is it?”

Neither Ron nor Hermione had a response to that question.

“And besides…he’s the one who got to make all the decisions,” Ginny said shaking her head. “And even now he’s getting to dictate how things go…I think he can wait a little longer until I decide what I want–what’s best for my family.”

“He’s been through a lot,” Hermione responded in a quiet voice.

“And I haven’t?” Ginny asked, trying to keep the underlying anger and annoyance out of her voice. “We–haven’t?” she added.

“Believe it or not, but I just happen to have nearly 18 years of emotions and hurt that I’m not quite sure how I’m supposed to put together all of the sudden,” Ginny said as she glared at both Ron and Hermione.

“Unlike the rest of you–who seem so willing to forgive and act as though everything is alright now–I can’t bring myself to do that,” Ginny admitted.

“So you’re going to punish him?” Ron asked with raised brow.

“No, I think he’s punished himself quite enough with the choices he made,” Ginny admitted quickly. “But I’m not just going to run back with open arms and pretend like things are going to fall into place like I’ve always dreamed they were supposed to…I just can’t.”

“And Jackson doesn’t deserve to choose what he wants--?” Ron began, but was cut off.

“That’s enough, Ron,” Molly Weasley said steadily as she turned to face them all again. “We may not like or agree with things–but it’s not your place.”

Ron looked for a moment as though he’d like very much to argue or disagree, but he chose to stay quiet in the wake of his mother’s stern words.

“And besides…your sister said she wasn’t sure if she was going,” Molly added as she glanced momentarily at her daughter before turning back to the cooking. “I think it’s a bit early to be getting angry or disagreeable about anything just yet….”
-------------------------------- ---------------------------------------

Leaning back against the countertop, Harry closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. It had the first time since about 5 am that he’d gotten a chance to just stop and stand-still for a few moments to collect his thoughts and slow down for a bit. The sound of various sauces and dishes simmering and bubbling away on the stovetop and the smell of turkey roasting in the oven were all testaments to how busy he’d been already this morning.

Last night he and Sophie had raided the local grocery store, gathering supplies and ingredients to put together the mixed menu of Christmas favorites he knew would need to be present for a traditional English gathering and also those dishes and items he–not only had learned how to make–but had come to enjoy during the holidays the past 17 years. He hoped the wide array of food from his past and his present would go over well with everyone and, moreover, be enough to keep them all fed and full.

But truthfully the food wasn’t really what really had him worried.

The fact of the matter was that in thirty minutes time, his past would be walking in through his door and back into his life. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley had arranged to come earlier than the day–apparently Mrs. Weasley had made the request and Harry assumed it was so that she could have a hand in the cooking and baking. And later on this afternoon the rest of the family would be joining them.

And apparently it seemed as though it would actually be the rest of the family–which was going to make for a full house. The prospect of hosting that many people was daunting enough, but the fact that those who would be coming were the same people he’d consciously left behind nearly 18 years ago–no matter the justified reasons he’d had at the time–was terrifying.

That fear and anxiety was something he’d had to deal with daily these past few weeks. From nearly the moment that Ron and Hermione had left his home that Sunday, he’d had second thoughts and misgivings about the choices he was making and the resistance he was having towards opening up and perhaps even returning. There was a part of him that had wanted to say ‘screw it’ and hop on the next flight overseas. But that urge was so often suppressed by his angst and worry over what the reception was going to be or how he’d even possibly be able fit that life into the one he was living now.

Despite Hermione’s reassurances that the family was excited and that the reaction to the news of his survival–while emotional–had been hopeful, Harry was still worried that the moment the Weasley’s arrived they’d let their hurt and anger over his decisions be known. He was still readying himself for the backlash and the idea that he’d earned himself a few painful hexes or at the least, a punch or two in the face.

To say the last few weeks had been stressful would be an understatement. His emotions and his thoughts had been all over the place and it had begun to affect everything in his life it seemed. He’d had a hard time focusing on preparation and work for his classes. He was usually on top of returning papers and handing out grades for assignments, but he’d had to apologize to more than one class for not having their work ready to be handed back to them on time–citing a family emergency as the reason.

Even a few of his colleagues had asked if he was alright over the course of the last few weeks. His first few months on campus, he’d been incredibly involved in helping out students outside of class, participating in faculty committees and in engaging members of his department in discussions about their fields and experiences. But lately he’d been forced to brush off comments about his well-being and blame the usual tiredness of the end of semester grind as the reason for his aloofness and disengagement in faculty meetings.

If others were picking up on his disconnect, it was because that was exactly what he was feeling. When his memories had first come back, he was able to somehow find that balance between his two selves and the two lives that had been thrown together suddenly. There had still been doubts and uncertainty then, but in essence he was able to continue on living as Evan, while knowing he was Harry, because all the other bits of his past were still only in his head. He didn’t have confirmation–and it had been easier to perhaps even pretend…

But now that he knew his reality–knew the truth that he had indeed actually chose this path and those he’d left behind now wanted back into his life–he was finding it much harder to cope. Somehow, seeing how people had gone and moved on in the life that should have been, made figuring out what the life could be or would be all the more difficult. He had no clue what was supposed to happen from now on and that scared him.

He hadn’t dealt well with uncertainty and this feeling of being lost well in the past. He’d done things and said things that he’d always regretted on some level when he was younger. He was just hoping that he’d be able to hold it together while things sorted themselves out this time. The past few years he’d finally felt as though he’d reached someplace stable finally. Although not exactly conventional, he had his little family and a career where he was finally fully satisfied and could see himself doing for a long time.

But all that had been called into question, if not in actuality–in his mind at least.

He hadn’t exactly lost everything before–he’d been the one to walk away.

He had expected to die then. His understanding of the spell that would remove the Horcrux inside himself and get rid of Voldemort in the process was that the magic was way more than any one person should be able to withstand. He had known that the power that would be unleashed was more than likely going to be too much for his system to handle.

And quite honestly, there was a very real part of himself that had hoped for death back then.

Even though it was never going to be ideal–it wouldn’t have been a lie. Death meant a real end and one without deception or the need for protective provisions. At least then there would have been honestly and a true resolution to that chapter.

But it hadn’t worked out like that. The scared 18 year old part of him that was mortified of the damage that would be done if he survived had made sure he was where he was now.

That fear was still there in him, but it was directed towards the present. He was afraid of screwing up and messing with the life and the people he had now. He had lost everything once before, who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again?

But the greater question at hand may be–how did he now balance those two parts without upsetting either one? He truly wanted to see everyone again and to connect with them all in any way they might let him. It was rather selfish, he knew–but he was afraid of what might have to give in order for that to happen…

These were the things he had been exhausting himself with as of late and he had certainly been feeling the stress. He’d had to break his promise to Sophie a few times, giving into the temptation of his old habit when he couldn’t find release anything else. He’d felt horrible about it, feeling incredibly guilty each time he indulged and lit up again.

Slowly he felt as though he’d been losing hold of things and he hoped he’d be able to make it through these next few hours.

“Is this good, Daddy?”

Harry looked up, brought back from his musing by the innocent inquiry of his daughter.

“I’m stirring it just like you said,” Sophie said matter-of-factly with a smile as she swirled the oversized wooden spoon he’d given her around the large bowl in front of her.

“I see that,” Harry said as he sighed. “I didn’t tell you to taste it though,” he added, unable to keep the tired smile from creeping across his lips.

As soon as he’d gotten her up, dressed and ready this morning, she had wanted to help him cook and make the meal for tonight. She didn’t seem to understand that she couldn’t help him chop stuff up or stir the pots and pans.

Finally he’d found something she could do. Last night Sophie had conned him into buying a box of brownie mix with candy confetti frosting. She’d pestered him until he’d relented. He’d been too tired and too stressed to deny her and put up with the whining that would come if he said no.

After combining the ingredients in a bowl for her, he’d set her to mixing them up so they could bake the brownies.

“I didn’t taste em’,” Sophie retorted, trying to hide her little grin and failing to stifle her giggle.

It was, however, quite apparent that she’d been sneaking licks on the spoon–there was chocolate brownie mix goo all over her face, hands and shirt.

She was a mess.

“So how did half of the brownies end up all over you, Soph?” he asked, shaking his head slightly and letting out another sigh. He wasn’t angry, in fact it was kind of amusing, but he really didn’t have time for it.

“I don’t know,” she replied, licking at the chocolate that was on the side of her arm and wrist.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“I could take a bath,” Sophie suggested, not picking up on his tired exasperation at all.

“We don’t have time for a bath,” Harry replied, trying to figure out the quickest way to remedy the situation. “Our guests will be here any minute.”

“Yay!” Sophie cheered, in the process, raising both of her hands up in the air in a display of her excitement–one of which was still holding the chocolate brownie goo covered wooden spoon.

“Sophia Marie,” he cried out exasperatedly as he watched brownie splatter on the wall behind her.

Realizing what she’d done and registering the tone of her dad’s voice, Sophie’s mouth dropped into a wide “O”.

“Alright, upstairs,” Harry ordered, knowing that he needed to take care of this soon. Sophie, still perched on her stool made to put down the wooden spoon she was still holding so she could hop down.

“Not on the counter, in the bowl!” Harry warned just before it touched the counter-top. Sophie froze just an inch above the surface and instead placed the dirty spoon back in the bowl.

“Let get you upstairs you little chocolate monkey,” Harry teased as he swooped forward and plucked his daughter from the stool.

“What are we doing?” Sophie asked as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Harry could feel the chocolate that had been on her arms and hands against his own skin and he knew it was all over him now as well.

“We–are going to get you all cleaned up and changed quickly,” he informed her as he headed up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Harry made a beeline for the upstairs bathroom, hoping to be able to simply wipe away the mess instead of having to run a bath. He quickly got Sophie out of her messy clothes and set about wiping off the smears and dollops of chocolate that she had all over it seemed.

It took a few minutes, and after satisfactorily cleaning off the brownie batter, Harry told Sophie to stay put as he quickly zipped into her room and pulled out a new set of clothes for her to wear for the day.

“I’m sorry for getting all messy, Daddy,” Sophie said in a quiet voice as he pulled her shirt over her head.

Harry paused as Sophie pulled her hands through the ends of her sleeves and the shirt all the way on herself.

“Sweetie, I’m not mad at you,” he said as he kneeled back down to near her level. Sophie looked away, as if not truly believing that her dad wasn’t disappointed in her.

“Do I look mad to you, Soph?” Harry asked as he tried to fix his daughter with a coaxing smile.

“No,” Sophie admitted as she took in his smile.

“I didn’t mean a’ get all dirty,” she added.

“I know,” Harry told her. “And Dad was just a bit crazy because of all our guests that are coming–not because I’m mad at you…”

Sophie nodded her understanding, looking relieved that her dad wasn’t angry.

“Those brownies were just too good to wait to taste, weren’t they?” he added, teasingly, hoping that it might brighten her up even more.

Sophie couldn’t help the mischievous little grin from creeping up in response.

She nodded.

“They were yummy,” she admitted.

“I bet,” Harry replied with a chuckle. “But how about next time we wait until after they’re all baked before we eat them? I promise they’ll taste even better then.”

“Ok,” Sophie agreed with a smile.

“Soph, why don’t you go downstairs and see if all of your toys are picked up in the living room,” Harry added as he bent down to gather the brownie covered clothes and washcloth he’d discarded on the floor. “You were playing down there this morning…”

“Daddy…you’ve got chocolate all over you,” Sophie squeaked from behind him and Harry turned to find her trying to hide her amusement. “I’s all over your shirt and neck,” she added even as his hand reached up to the back of his neck and pulled it away–covered in brownie batter. Harry looked down at himself, and saw that the button up shirt he’d selected for the day was just as smeared with brown chocolate brownie mix as Sophie’s had been.

Harry let out another sigh.

“Ok–I still want you to go down and pick up any toys,” Harry directed. “I’m going to go change and be down in a little bit–in the meantime–stay out of the kitchen,” he added in warning.

“Ok,” Sophie agreed as she turned tail and headed back into the hallway, her little footfalls audible as she hopped down the stairs one at a time.

Once out of ear-shot, Harry turned attention back to himself. He needed to change not only his shirt, but his jeans as well it seemed–which also had streaks and a spattering of chocolate on them.

Throwing Sophie’s clothes in the bathroom hamper, Harry quickly wet a clean cloth and cleaned off his neck and whatever other skin he could see that had any trace of brownie batter on it. Making quick work and praying he hadn’t missed any, he left the bathroom and headed down the hall towards his own room at the end.

He quickly put together a new outfit from his closet–pairing a new sweater and white undershirt with a pair of faded jeans. He quickly threw off his dirty clothes and began pulling on his jeans and undershirt.

He had just begun pulling on the soft green sweater when he heard the doorbell echo throughout the house.
Harry froze with the sweater half-way over his head.

They were here.

Still standing with his arms above his head and sweater partially on, the doorbell sounded loudly again.

“I got it!”

He heard the little voice shout excitedly from downstairs just as he heard the sound of stocking feet pound madly across the hardwood floors below towards the front entrance hall.

“Sophie, no!” Harry shouted as he begun to pull the sweater all the way on in a hurry as he stumbled towards the door. Suddenly the task seemed 10 times more difficult as he struggled to pull his head through the neck hole.

“Sophie, leave the door alone!” he yelled again. “Let me get it,” he added as he finally pulled it over his head and bolted from his room. He again took the stairs two at a time, his stocking feet sliding down the stairs as he made his way down them.

But as he reached the bottom, he already knew he was too late. Along with the sound of his own daughter’s voice, he heard the sound of several others floating down the hallway towards him.

As he rounded the corner, a blast of cold winter air hit him, momentarily taking his breath away.

He slowed as he got closer, taking in the sight of the open door, Sophie standing there holding it, and the small crowd of people gathered on his snowy front steps.

“Good morning, Harry,” Hermione greeted as she stepped forward and hugged Harry tightly.

“Sorry we’re a little bit early…Sophie was telling us we interrupted a little mishap involving brownies?” Hermione added with an amused grin as she released Harry.

Instead of answering straight away, Harry stood there stupidly, his eyes roving over the women and girls standing on the steps behind Hermione. There were certainly many more than just Hermione and Mrs. Weasley…

“Uh…yeah,” Harry finally managed after a few seconds of awkward silence hung in the air. “Someone got a bit overeager and wanted to taste them before we’d even put them in the pan to bake,” he added, glancing at Sophie with a smile.

“I think we’ve all had that happen a time or two.”

Harry’s eyes immediately went to the source of the quick reassurance; his gaze settling on Molly Weasley, who was giving him a watery smile.

The Weasley matriarch was older–nearly 18 years’ time had changed them all. There were more lines in the corners of her eyes and mouth and her once vivid red hair was streaked liberally with grey. But the smile and the warm look she was giving him were the same as always.

Harry returned the smile and nodded.

“Sorry…where are my manners?” Harry said quickly as he noticed a few people beyond Hermione and Mrs. Weasley clutching tightly at their scarves and jackets.

“Come in everyone,” he added as he gestured for them all to enter his home. “I didn’t mean to keep you all out in the cold.”

With that invitation the new arrivals began to file in through the front door, their eyes flitting from Harry to the interior of the home they had just entered.

There were quite a few girls he did not recognize or could not name, although they were undeniably part of the family. Many had the tell-tale red hair that labeled many a person “Weasley.” But there were other features–bits and traits of their parents that Harry tried to place as they passed by.

“Merlin’s beard…it really is you.”

Harry’s attention turned to the two women who were standing beside him now. They were his old classmates and Quidditch teammates–Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Well…they were both Weasley now. Hermione and Ron had told him they’d married Fred and George, respectively.

Harry could only nod and smile in response–something he’d found himself doing a lot of in the last minute or so.

“Wow,” was all Angelina could manage as she gave Harry a quick hug. As soon as she had released him, Alicia followed suit, embracing him for a few seconds before stepping away.

As she moved away, Harry was enveloped in another hug. Although it had taken him initially off-guard, it took only a second or two to register who was hugging him so fiercely. The bubble-gum pink hair was a dead giveaway.

“Hermione, you were right,” Tonks said with a teasing, yet watery smile as she pulled, still holding him at arm’s length. “He’s still as handsome as ever,” she added.

Harry chuckled in embarrassment.

“It’s good to see you, Tonks,” Harry replied quietly.

“Now that’s going to take some getting used to,” she scrutinized as she stepped away, pulling off her coat.
Harry raised a brow in confusion.

“That bloody accent of yours,” Tonks said with a laugh.

Harry could only shake his head and laugh. He had a feeling he was going to hear that comment a few more times before this holiday weekend was all said and done with. It actually wasn’t something he’d thought of until Ron had mentioned it during their initial visit. It was just the way he’d spoken since his days of rehab and therapy at the hospital all those years ago…

“Harry is it alright if we all head into the kitchen and sitting room and figure out where we can all help out?” Hermione asked as Harry realized just how cramped it was with everyone still standing in the entrance hallway.

“Yeah…that sounds like a great idea,” Harry agreed as the group moved into the house. Sophie, who had still been holding the door open for everyone, quickly closed it and ran after the group and her dad. Harry scooped her up as she reached him, smiling as she giggled excitedly.

“You guys can put your coats and shoes and anything else you brought in here,” Harry offered as he pointed to a door off the entrance hallway and opened it. The room was meant to be an office, but at the moment had only a few boxes from the move stored in it. Harry had been using a room downstairs in the basement, as well as his campus office and a space in the shed near the back of the property to take care of his school work, as well as a few photography and camera projects he’d been working on intermittently.

Harry stood silent for a moment holding Sophie as jackets, cloaks, boots and shoes were shed and placed out of the way. As the women and girls returned to the kitchen, Harry again found himself taking in the group that had arrived early to help out.

“A few more decided to tag along to help prepare dinner than I’d expected,” Hermione explained, startling Harry out of his quiet observation. She had come to stand next to him without him realizing it.

“I see that,” Harry replied with a smile.

“Tonks, Angelina and Alicia all volunteered to help out and all the girls usually help Molly out with the meal on holidays,” she added. “I hope it’s alright…”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Harry assured her. “Everyone’s going to end up here anyway and it couldn’t hurt to have more hands to help,” he added with a smile.

Hermione smiled back, looking relieved that the arrival of so many people straight away hadn’t been too much for Harry to deal with.

“Perhaps introductions are in order?” Mrs. Weasley suggested when everyone had returned to the kitchen.

“Sure,” Harry replied, looking around at the curious faces around him.

“This is my daughter Orelia,” Tonks said, starting the round of introductions as she gestured to the willowy teenage girl standing next to her. Orelia looked to be about 14 and had the same heart-shaped face as her mother. But the light brown hair and the grey-blue eyes were all Remus.

Harry nodded his hello at the introduction, trying to smile to hide some of his nervousness he’d been trying to quell since the arrival of his guests.

“This is Jade,” Angelina chimed in next, giving the girl standing next to her a squeeze with the arm that she’d had around her shoulder. Jade seemed to be around the same age as Orelia and her features and hair were dark like her mother’s. Although, her skin was a few shades lighter and she had the same striking blue eyes that Fred and some of the other Weasley brothers shared.

Next was Alicia who introduced her 13 year old daughter Eliza, who was all Weasley–red hair and freckles as vivid as her father’s. After that Percy’s wife, Audrey, shyly introduced herself and her daughter Molly to Harry. She seemed to be a mix of both Audrey and Percy–her hair was more of a red-brown and she had only a few of the trademark Weasley freckles dusted across her nose.

“Fleur and Bill went to France yesterday to celebrate with Fleur’s parents,” Hermione explained as the circle of introductions reached herself and it seemed she felt the need to explain the absences. “They’ll be here later when the rest of the family arrives. And then you can meet her daughter Victoire and their son Louis.”
Harry nodded his understanding, his eyes then falling automatically on the tall red-headed teenage girl standing beside Hermione.

“This is my Nora,” Hermione added–her introduction not really needed. There was no doubt that Nora was Hermione and Ron’s daughter. At twelve years old she was just a shade taller than her mother–having quite obviously inherited her father’s height. Although, unlike Ron at that age–who had been gangly and awkward--Nora was a very beautiful and graceful looking young lady. Her red hair was pulled back in a loose bun, accentuating her kind brown eyes–Hermione’s eyes.

“And this is Scarlett,” Hermione added, gesturing to the little brown-haired girl that Nora was holding. Scarlett seemed to be attempting to be shy, hugging close to her older sister. But her bright blue eyes were fixed curiously on Sophie, who was still hanging out in Harry’s arms.

“Is she your little girl?” Sophie asked excitedly, startling Harry from his observation of their guests. Nearly everyone chuckled at Sophie’s inquiry and Harry could only smile. Sophie had been so excited to meet Scarlett ever since Ron had told her about the little girl. In the past few weeks she had been asking incessantly about when she would be coming and talking about what games they could play or toys they could share.

Hermione smiled and nodded in amusement.

“She is,” Hermione confirmed to Sophie before turning to her own daughter. “Can you say ‘hi’ to Sophie, Scar?” Hermione asked her daughter coaxingly.

Scarlett did not respond immediately, still seeming a bit apprehensive…

“Hi, Scarlett,” Sophie chirped as she waved across the kitchen towards the other little girl. She looked up at her dad as she spoke, as if looking for some approval. Harry nodded, a little proud of the fact that his daughter was trying to make Scarlett feel welcome.

“Lo’,” Scarlett managed quietly.

“She’s just a bit grumpy because of the International Portkey,” Hermione tried to explain away her daughter’s behavior. “She’s not too fond of that sort of travel.”

“Or maybe it’s because the baby didn’t get her nap today?” Nora teased her little sister.

“Nuh-uh, Nora,” Scarlett responded finally, fixing her sister with a disgruntled stare. “I am not a baby.”

“Girls,” Hermione warned even as the rest of the group tried to hide their amusement.

“Do you wanna go play in my room?” Sophie interjected again. “I can show you my dolls…or we can watch my fairy princess movie,” she offered, sounding hopeful that she was going to have someone her own age to play with.

“That sounds like fun,” Hermione said. “You should go play with Sophie, Scarlett.”

“You could show her the new dollhouse that Nana made you,” Harry suggested to Sophie, who nodded her head excitedly at the recommendation.

“Yep, Nana Maria made it an’ it’s so big, I can almost fit inside,” Sophie exclaimed excitedly. “An’ I got lots a new dolls…some of em’ even talk,” Sophie shared, trying to make Scarlett’s choice easier by sounding super excited about her toys she’d received as Christmas gifts.

“Can I?” Scarlett asked quietly, looking to her mother for approval.

Hermione nodded.

“I’ll show you where my toys are,” Sophie said as she tried to wriggle out of her dad’s arms, sliding down to the floor as he released her. Scarlett did much the same, making quick work of disengaging herself from her sister’s grasp.

“Come on, my room’s this way,” Sophie beckoned, as she pointed Scarlett towards the stairs.

The group in the kitchen watched as the two little girls made their way out of the kitchen–Scarlett scampering quickly behind Sophie as they clambered up the stairs and out of sight.

“Looks like we don’t have to worry about them getting along,” Harry mused as the sound of their footsteps could no longer be heard echoing throughout the house.

“I didn’t think we would,” Hermione replied with a smile. “Scarlett was just as excited to meet Sophie.”
At Hermione’s last comment, the kitchen lapsed into a few moments of silence; the women and girls looking around the kitchen with interest and curiosity.

“Well…maybe we should start out by seeing exactly what you’ve already made?” Molly finally suggested, eyeing the oven and pots still bubbling on the stove top with interest. “The turkey smells wonderful,” she complimented, fixing him with a smile.

“Thanks,” Harry replied, blushing slightly.

And with that it seemed that the ice had been broken in the room and Molly Weasley set about inventorying the feast that Harry had started. She was in her element, praising him for the job he’d done so far and then setting the other women and girls to different tasks–finishing dishes Harry had started and starting new ones that she thought might go well with the meal or that were favorites that he’d not known about.

After only a few minutes, each and every person was busy stirring, mixing, chopping or peeling.
Everyone except for Harry, that is.

He suddenly found himself leaning against the counter with nothing to do. All the food was being taken care of. He’d spent time over the past week cleaning and making sure things were picked up, put away and the last of the boxes down in the basement unpacked. The Christmas tree had been up for a while now, as had the decorations. He literally had nothing to do and he was feeling slightly awkward just standing there watching everyone.

“Is there anything I can help out with, Mrs. Weasley?” Harry asked as he came to stand next to Molly Weasley, who was showing Jade what size to cut up some of the vegetables she was working on.
At the sound of the question, Mrs. Weasley turned her attention towards Harry. As she looked up at him, her expression was a mixture of emotions that Harry wasn’t sure what to make of. He thought for a moment that he’d somehow upset her with his question.

“Oh…there’ll be none of that now,” she replied with a smile that did not completely get rid of the emotion clouding her eyes. “Harry, you can call me Molly now,” she added.

“Sorry…I suppose it’s still a bit of an old habit,” Harry admitted a bit sheepishly. He’d never actually addressed Mrs. Weasley by her first name, so the prospect of doing so seemed odd very odd to him.

“That’s quite alright,” Molly assured him. “And I think we have everything under control at the moment. You’ve already done so much work to get the meal ready and you’ve let us all into your home for the weekend–you should take a break and let us handle it from here.”

“It’s no problem...Molly,” Harry managed slightly awkwardly. “You guys are more than welcome to anything of mine and to have free reign of my place while you’re here. I’m more than happy to have you all.”

“It’s so good to be here,” Molly whispered back with a watery smile as she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug for the first time. She clung tight to Harry, almost as if trying to put nearly 18 years of lost time and opportunities into that one embrace. Harry did his best to return the hug, squeezing his once-adoptive mother tightly and bending down to her level.

“We missed you so much,” Harry heard her whisper emotionally into his shoulder.

Harry’s first reaction was to echo her sentiments and tell her how much he’d missed all of them. But he knew the words were hollow. The truth was, he hadn’t had to endure the same level of pain and heartache as his friends and family had that he’d left behind. Although he couldn’t deny that his life had been filled with its own troubles and hardships, he hadn’t had to deal with the aftermath of the decisions as they had–first in his apparent death and the recent revelation of his survival. He had missed them all–he just didn’t want to diminish any emotions they were feeling…

“You have no idea how amazing it is to see you,” she added in a quiet voice as she pulled away and held Harry at arm’s length, seemingly drinking in the sight of him.

“I’m glad you’re all here,” Harry managed. “I honestly don’t deserve this warm reception or the second chance you’ve given me.”

“Having you in our lives again–that means more to us than you’ll ever know,” Molly reassured him. “We can’t change the past…we can only embrace the future we have now.”

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