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SIYE Time:3:39 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: 102982; Chapter Total: 4946







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There were a million and one things hurtling around in his head and assaulting his mind.

Everything he had known previously had been thrown asunder. Even with the recent upheaval that had come into his life in the past few weeks as Ron and Hermione had found him, he hadn’t experienced a level of shock as what he was experiencing now.

Not only had he made a decision to leave behind his old life and everyone in it, but he’d left the girl he’d loved more than anything or anyone else with an unintended and enormous burden. He’d left Ginny pregnant and alone to raise a child--and yet, her entire family was here at his house. They had all welcomed him with open arms, attempting to reconnect and interject themselves back into his life.

How could they be so receptive and welcoming knowing what he’d done and the state in which he’d left things? How could they not all hate him?

How could no one have told him? Obviously everybody had known and yet nobody had hinted in the least. Or was this what Hermione had meant when she’d said that she was sure that he and Ginny would need to talk? Was this the topic of that discussion--that he had a son with Ginny?

‘I have a son.’

The thought that rang loud and clear throughout his consciousness was both amazing and terrifying at the same time. The idea was still just beyond his comprehension as he tried to come to terms with the fact that he had another child--a son who was fully grown and whom he’d never met before.

He wanted to both scream and cry and punch himself in the face all at the same time. He knew just how much Sophie meant to him--how amazing it had been to watch her grow from a tiny baby into the boisterous little girl he had now. To think that he’d missed all of that and so much more in the life of a son was something he wasn’t sure how he was going to be able to handle .

Trying to steady himself, Harry let out a deep, shaky breath and leaned hard against the wood railing.

How was he ever going to make amends for this? What was going to happen now? Was there even any chance for a relationship to be made? Would Jackson even want to meet him knowing what he surely did?

The sound of his son’s name--even if only within his mind’s own dialogue--was both odd and right at the same time.

“Harry?”

The sound of Ginny’s voice brought him out of his preoccupation and Harry turned at the sound of his name.

“Is everything okay?” Harry asked, remembering that just a few minutes ago Ginny had been beckoned into the house by Bill.

“Everything is fine,” Ginny assured him she approached slowly. There was something in her tone, however, that did not completely convince Harry of her words.

“You’re sure?”

With Harry’s second inquiry, Ginny sighed heavily.

“My sons decided to take a Portkey halfway across the globe and join us for Christmas,” Ginny admitted quietly. “They arrived a few minutes ago...Bill just wanted to let me know...”

Harry’s mind went into overdrive as he realized exactly what Ginny had just told him.

“Both of them?”

Ginny nodded.

“Jackson’s here,” Ginny told him. “He’s waiting in the hallway with Bill.”

Harry looked over towards the door. He could only make out shadows and shapes through the glass, but he could tell that there was definitely more than one person there.

It was only minutes ago he’d found out that he had a son--the idea had barely had time to begin to sink in. He’d thought he’d have time--a day or so to talk with Ginny and figure out what was going to happen. But it seemed now that time was not something he had and things had sped up considerably. His son was now only feet away, separated only by a pane of glass and a wood frame.

“Do you want to meet him, Harry?” Ginny asked.

The question was simple, and yet perhaps the most daunting he’d ever faced.

“Only...only if he wants to,” Harry blurted out.

To his surprise, Ginny let out a short snort of amusement that he wasn’t sure what it was in response to.

“What?” Harry asked in confusion.

“Nothing,” Ginny replied. “It’s just...Jackson said pretty much the same thing. He thought I should clear it with you first...”

“Oh,” was all Harry could manage, although he too found something interesting in the similarities.

“Should I bring him out here?” Ginny asked again.

Although he wasn’t sure he was ready for any more shock and was slightly afraid that he might finally be completely overwhelmed, there was no way he would say ‘no’.

Slowly, he nodded his head.

With that, he watched as Ginny turned from him and moved back towards the door.

Harry could scarcely breathe.

The reality of the situation and the moment was upon him.

Seemingly in slow motion, he watched as Ginny reached and pushed open the door. Without the glare of the outside lights reflecting off the glass door, he saw Bill standing there. He and Ginny seemed to exchange a few words before Bill moved on down the hallway and out of sight.

Ginny was now talking to someone to her right, someone who was out of sight and who was still obscured and obstructed by the door frame. Ginny was looking up, but she seemed to be speaking quiet, coaxing words--almost as if addressing a child.

She was speaking to a child--her son.

Our son.

Just as those words rang loudly in his own head, Harry watched as Ginny reached out and grabbed the hand of the person just out of view. Gently, she pulled forward, stepping backwards as she led her son by the hand through the doorway.

Harry was torn between moving towards them to close the distance and not being able to move himself from where his feet seemed to be rooted to the planks beneath his feet.

The inability to move won out and Harry stood still as he watched Ginny moved towards him, followed closely by a tall, dark-haired young man.

In the months since Harry’s memories had returned he’d had so many dreams at night where he was 18 again and the war was still on. When he’d woken, he’d half expected to wake up on the camp bed in Ron’s room at the Burrow, finding that no time had passed. It was only when he’d stumbled to the bathroom to rouse himself from his dreams by splashing his face with cold water and saw his own, thirty-six year old self staring back from the mirror that he knew they were just dreams.

This...this was the face that he’d always expected to find looking back at him from the glass.

The resemblance was uncanny...almost scary.

But he wasn’t looking into a mirror or flashing back to a time passed, he was looking at his son--his own flesh and blood.

Ginny had been right--Jackson looked so much like he did at 17. His black hair, while messy, fell stylishly so as to frame his face with a casualness that Harry was sure his never achieved back then. He was tall and lanky--although even under the cover of a sweatshirt and jeans, Harry could see that his son was a touch more built than he’d been.

But Jackson’s facial features--his thin face and prominent cheekbones--those were his. And even in the low lighting of the deck, Harry could see the bright green eyes he was so familiar with.

Ginny came to a stop in front of Harry, Jackson standing beside her. Her son towered over her and now that they were only a few feet away, Harry could see that Jackson was an inch or two taller than himself.

He was near eye-level with Jackson, but Jackson seemed to be trying to avoid direct eye contact--almost as if he was fighting within himself to be able to look directly into Harry’s face.

Now that the two were standing in front of him and he was mere feet from his son, Harry wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say or do. He didn’t know what Jackson thought of him. While Ginny’s reaction hadn’t been one of anger of violence--which he’d half expected--but one of calm and cool indifference, he wasn’t sure of what Jackson’s might be.

He could only guess that the young man before him would hold some form of anger in knowing of the decisions Harry had made--decisions that had taken Harry out of his life...

What could he possible say or do that would be adequate enough after being absent for the first 17 years of his life?

“Harry...” Ginny said quietly, seemingly bridging the gaping silence that had overcome them. She seemed the only one capable of speech at the moment. “This is Jackson...” she added gently.

A very small part of Harry wanted to point out that what she said was quite obvious, but he could not bring himself to say anything. His only reaction was to stare openly and unabashedly at Jackson even as he tried hard not to.

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

Ginny wasn’t sure what to do.

Neither her son nor Harry seemed capable of any speech or reaction other than to remain frozen on the spot. Harry seemed unable to keep his eyes off of Jackson as they searched and took in everything about their son. Jackson was standing stock-still beside her, his own gaze flickering nervously and erratically from Harry and everywhere and anywhere else as he struggled with the enormity of the situation.

There was no script to guide them through this situation. While Ginny had worried and thought long and hard about how she would tell Harry--the reaction and afterwards was something that could not be planned for.

She hadn’t known exactly what to expect...but she had not been ready for this awkward silence that was happening before her now.

Thinking of mainly her son, Ginny knew that she needed to intervene somehow to jump start the situation.

“Why don’t we all sit down?” Ginny interjected, seemingly startling both of the men standing next to her. At her words, both turned their attention towards her, almost as if surprised she was still there with them.

With a gesture towards a set of wicker and steel framed furniture that was neatly arranged in the well-lighted corner of the deck, Ginny soon had the two men following her over. She led Jackson over to the wicker love seat, guiding him to one side of the love-seat as she sat down next to him. Harry followed, settling himself into a matching chair facing the pair of them over a glass-top table.

Despite her attempt at stirring up any sort of conversation, the small group once again fell into an uncomfortable, awkward silence.

“Your mom and I were just--er--talking about your plans after school ends...”

It was now Ginny’s chance to be startled. She had not expected Harry to be able to compose himself enough or draw himself out of his shock to be the first to speak. But as he lent the statement as a chance to kick-start a conversation, he sounded a little bit more confident than she’d expected.

Jackson, however, still seemed to be unable to verbalize a response.
-------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------- ----

He had no clue what to say.

He was having a hard enough time trying to get himself to breathe normally without having to worry about carrying a conversation. He could not believe he was sitting where he was--in front of the one person he’d never dreamed he’d ever have a chance of meeting.

Even though it’d been his hunches that had originally led them all to where they were now, Jackson had not been able to prepare himself for how this moment was supposed to go. He had understood that at some point he’d have the chance to meet his dad, but the concept and the actuality of the meeting was something he’d not given himself a chance to come to grips with.

He’d put all of his energy and thought towards getting to this point and grappling with how this was all affecting his mother--and now that he was here--he felt like he was lost. Dozens of clever things to say and fill the conversation were batting about his mind, but nothing was making it anywhere near his mouth. He could only bring himself to stare blankly ahead--afraid even to look for more than a few seconds across the table at those strangely familiar green eyes staring back at him.

And hearing him speak for the first time--listening to the unfamiliar syllables and pronunciations of his words spoken in a voice that was at the same time oddly like his own--was another thing that had thrown Jackson. He’d heard his father’s voice during the few times that family had shared memories with him, but none of those times had affected him like this had.

To hear his own dad not only speaking to him, but having him mention school was absolutely mind-blowing. If only Jackson could find his own words...

“Auror Academy...that’s amazing,” his dad said again quietly. There was a certain level of awe and pride in his words that made Jackson’s heart lift unexpectedly with the praise.

Summoning all of his courage and chancing a glance upward and across the table, Jackson looked up, completely locking eyes his dad for the first time without worry of being caught staring.

Once more his lungs were devoid of air as he struggled to breathe. The eyes staring back at him were the same shape and the color the same clear, bright green he’d come to know in his own. He’d only seen the particular shade of green when looking at himself in the mirror, or looking back at him from the pictures of his dad he had.

But now they were there, looking right back at him steadily from the face of the man he’d never before imagined would be before him. Those eyes were appraising him, taking him in....staring at him really.

“I’m sorry,” his dad said apologetically as he shook his head slightly and pulled his steady gaze away momentarily.

Jackson raised a brow in question, wondering what he’d done to draw an apology. He looked at his mum in question as well, wondering if she understood.

“I keep staring at you,” his dad responded, realizing that Jackson was confused. “I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable. It’s just...you look...you look so much like...” he added, trailing away and shaking his head again as if trying to convince himself that what he was seeing was real.

“You.”

This time it was Jackson’s mum that had spoken, finishing the sentence instead.

His father nodded his agreement with the statement and Jackson couldn’t help but nod as well.

“I used to get that said about myself--looking like my dad, I mean,” Jackson’s dad admitted with a hint of a wistful smile. “I suppose you’ve gotten that a time or two before...”

Jackson nodded.

“And being a Weasley probably brings a bit of attention in itself too,” he added.

“Potter,” Jackson found himself blurting out automatically. He had surprised himself by speaking and looked up to find his dad fixing him with his own look that seemed to be a mixture of surprise and amazement.

“My last name’s Potter,” Jackson explained after a few seconds of silence, trying hard to keep both his voice and his gaze steady and trained on his dad.

-------------------------------- ---------------------------
Hearing Jackson finally speak had caught Harry off-guard.

The young man had not said a word since stepping onto the deck and when he’d unexpectedly responded to Harry’s comment, Harry had felt all the air rush from his lungs--leaving him devoid of any way to respond.

Jackson’s voice was deeper than Harry’d expected and sounded so much like himself at that age. But then again, he was already all of 17--a man according to wizarding law and custom and well past the throes of boyhood physically. That in itself was something that Harry was still struggling to get a grip on--that his son wasn’t a child and he’d missed all those years that had shaped him and helped him grow into the young man before him.

And to hear that Jackson had carried on not only his looks, but also his name, was something that only added to the overwhelming nature of the situation.

Harry looked back and forth between Ginny and Jackson, unsure of how to respond.

“I wanted him to have that,” Ginny responded. “I wanted him to at least have your name...even if he couldn’t have you.”

The heaviness in the truthfulness of Ginny’s statement quelled much of the excitement that came from learning that the Potter legacy had not died out. It was yet another reminder of not only what he’d left behind--but how much hurt he’d left with those that remained.

“Thank you,” Harry said quietly as he tried to fix Ginny with as meaningful a look as he could manage. “That means so much...” he added in a near whisper.

Ginny nodded, but any attention to any other response on her part was diverted away as Jackson let out a deep, shaky breath and buried his head in his hands. His breathing continued to be loud as he took deep breaths in and out and ran his hands over his face and into his hair. He was visibly shaken and overwhelmed and Harry’s first instinct was to get up and reach out to provide some sort of comfort.

But Ginny beat him to it and before he could move she had wrapped an arm around her son.

“Its alright, luv,” Ginny whispered to Jackson as she pulled him to her. She continued to offer words of comfort and encouragement as Jackson remained with his hands covering his face as he fought to compose himself.

“You don’t have to get upset, sweetheart,” Ginny offered as she slid her hand around and began to rub small circles around Jackson’s back.

“It’s just...this...everything...its a lot...to take in,” Jackson struggled to get out as he shook his head and ran his hand once again through his shaggy hair, messing it up even more than before. “I just...I can’t seem to wrap my head around everything...”

“I know...it is a lot,” Ginny agreed as she continued to try and comfort her son. As she spoke her eyes sought Harry’s and she fixed with a look that plainly showed that she very truly lay blame for Jackson’s current state on Harry.

And Harry couldn’t find any reason to disagree with her--his decisions had wrought the pain and heartache of all those involved for years and he was certainly responsible for the emotions overwhelming their son now.

If only he could find the right words...

“I know it doesn’t make up for anything or may not mean a whole lot...” Harry began quietly as he leaned forward across the table top towards Ginny and Jackson. “But, I’m so sorry, bud. I am...” Harry continued, swallowing heavily as Jackson looked up at being addressed so.

Harry could see all the pain etched on the face of the young man seated across from him and it literally took Harry’s breath away to see all the overwhelming confusion looking back at him through those green eyes that were so much like his own.

“I can’t even begin to understand how overwhelming and mind-blowing this is for you--for everyone,” Harry continued. “But if there’s anything you want to know or you need or want from me...just a say so--just ask--no matter what it is.”

Jackson continued to return his gaze unflinchingly, as if trying to take in and process Harry’s offer as carefully as he could--weighing every word for what it was worth. The gaze was almost unnerving, but Harry kept his eyes on his son’s...

Very slowly...Jackson nodded, swallowing heavily as he did so.

After another moment or two, Jackson looked away and let out a heavy sigh. The sound of the exhale of breath was loud in the otherwise quiet of the waning evening.

And just moments after the sigh, there was another loud noise that broke the silence on the back deck--a loud, long growling noise that could only signify hunger.

“Sorry,” Jackson said quietly with a smirk as his hand went automatically to his stomach as if to try and stifle the sound.

“Didn’t you just eat?” Ginny asked him with a raised brow and Harry remembered that Jackson had come here with his brother after having both spent the day with his former step-father’s family. He imagined that there had been lots of food and drink available as the family celebrated the traditional holiday, but yet from the growling of his stomach it seemed that Jackson hadn’t indulged at all.

“Er....I had a bit,” Jackson admitted. “I really wasn’t that hungry though...” he added quietly.

There seemed to be an understanding amongst the three of them that perhaps Jackson’s appetite had suffered because of the feelings he’d been dealing with regarding this meeting and the decision to take the situation in his hands as he had.

“There’s still plenty to eat inside,” Harry offered, gesturing towards the doorway. Molly and the other women had certainly outdone themselves in creating a mountain of food that was surely going to take a small army a few days to fully devour. “We can go in and you can make yourself a plate--or two,” he added with a small smile that he hoped was inviting.

“Sounds great,” Jackson offered with another sigh and a nod of his head as he seemed to relax a bit.

“I think I’ll grab something myself as well,” Ginny interjected. “I only had a chance to grab a quick bite at the match.”

“We can all go in,” Harry suggested as he rose from his seat, the others following suit. “There’s a treacle tart in there that’s been calling my name all day,” he added without thought, remembering the warm dessert that had been tempting him from one of the tables laden with all sorts of goods--savory and sweet.

Harry caught Jackson’s smile at his admission and Ginny gave him a slightly amused look--but there was something else in her expression that he couldn’t quite place. Perhaps it was the recognition of the continued interest in his long-time favorite treat.

“I’ve still got a sweet tooth,” Harry said quietly and with a slight smirk that he hoped was friendly enough. “Although these days if I eat I eat too much, I’m liable to have to have to find myself a larger size pair of jeans after...” he added, trailing off as he suddenly wondered if he was talking too much.

Jackson again snickered slightly at his comment, but again, Ginny seemed indifferent--her eyes raking him over from head to toe as if to gauge whether or not previous overindulgence in dessert had wrought any change in his always wiry frame. But her look-over only lasted a moment before she turned from them and started to lead the way towards the french doors.

“I’ll have to get a piece then--it’s my favorite too,” Jackson said quietly as he cast Harry a small smile. “After dinner, of course,” he added as his eyes flickered towards his mother’s retreating back as she left the pair of them standing together.

Ginny seemed content enough to disengage herself from the situation and leave he and Jackson together on the deck where they stood. And as Harry moved his gaze from Ginny--who had just reached the deck doors--back to his son, he saw that Jackson seemed to be experiencing quite the opposite reaction. He didn’t seem to be keen on moving it all...

Instead he was standing across from Harry, searching him again and, at the same time, it seemed as though he was also attempting to gather up some sort of courage to say or do something...

Harry’s first thought was to ask Jackson if he wanted to ask something or needed something--but although he’d offered up that option--he didn’t want to press too much or push him in any direction that might scare him away. Instead he continued to offer what he hoped was a welcoming and encouraging expression.

“Can I--”

Jackson began quietly.

If Harry hadn’t been listening carefully and focusing so intensely on his son, he may have missed the words.

Harry inclined his head slightly, nodding as if to encourage Jackson to continue.

The teen took a deep breath, steeling himself to get out what he wanted to say. Swallowing deeply just before he exhaled, Jackson looked incredibly nervous.

“Could I--maybe--give you--” Jackson trailed off again, looking down and away from Harry.

“A hug...”

Again, the words were quiet and Harry had to take a moment to try and process exactly what the request had been. But there didn’t seem to be any question in Jackson’s mind as to what he had requested even as he continued to look slightly terrified that he’d gotten up the courage to ask.

“Of course,” Harry said without much more thought.

Jackson looked up, this time looking surprised that his request had been so easily accepted.

“Really?” Jackson croaked out.

“Yeah,” Harry confirmed.

That final confirmation seemed to be the last barrier to action.

In just a single stride Jackson had closed the distance between the two--knocking the glass-topped table asunder as he did so.

Before Harry could completely register it, Jackson had embraced him--wrapping his long arms around him. Harry responded automatically, pulling his son to him while he tried to come to terms with the moment.

“I’m sorry, Jackson,” Harry whispered as he hugged his son. “I’m so sorry.”

Instead of giving any verbal indication, the teen instead held onto the embrace, not afraid to rest his head now against his father’s shoulder.

The feeling of holding onto his son--the son who, only minutes ago he didn’t know even existed--wasn’t something that he could readily describe in words. This young man had Harry’s blood coursing through his veins and was a piece of him.

He knew what it was to love a child--that much wasn’t new to him. He’d experienced that pure, unquantifiable love the past five years with Sophie--and he knew that being a father was the most amazing thing.

But this was something different altogether.

There was that same amazement and wonder, but also a whole myriad of other emotions were threatening to swirl up and overtake him.

Harry could feel the tears begin to form in the corner of his eyes as he struggled to pull in and control his emotions. There was a sense of sadness and guilt that was sweeping through him, threatening to overtake everything else.

He had fought so hard when Sophie had been born--doing whatever he could to make sure that his little girl was with him. He’d given up his post with The Rolling Stone to settle down in a stable environment back in Buffalo, spent thousands of dollars of his own money on lawyers and legal counsel and put in countless hours doing his own research on laws and past court cases--all while attempting to put himself back through school and clean up his once fragmented life.

But for as difficult as the choices and the sacrifices had seemed to have been for him to make back during the war--thinking that what he was giving up and all that he was leaving behind would be the best thing for everyone--it all seemed to be so wrong now. He’d ultimately failed in making a better, easier life for all those he loved and cared for.

The clearest proof of that was in his arms.

Harry could feel his son shaking slightly in his embrace and the tears begin to wet and soak through his shirt where Jackson’s head rested against his shoulder. No longer able to hold in his own, Harry let his own tears fall quietly as he held onto the boy.

Not a boy.

He’d been a world away for that part of Jackson’s life and instead the young man he clung to--his own son whom he had abandoned and left behind--was nearly grown and was well on his way to leaving behind the throws of childhood.

Harry desperately wanted to break down and sob--let all the heartache and sorrow he was feeling for his son pour out. But he remained respectfully quiet and instead hugged Jackson closer.

For all the hurt he’d inflicted upon this young man--no matter how inadvertent it may have been--Jackson did not pull away or make any indication that he hated or despised Harry. The young man instead continued to cling to him as though if he let go, Harry might very well disappear again.

He couldn’t begin to understand just how much he had put his son through in the course of his young life because of the choices he’d made in the midst of the chaos and confusion of war. He didn’t know what Jackson thought of him and his decisions or what his son might want to say to him--good or bad--in anger or even hate.

But whatever Jackson might feel the need to talk about or even rage about--that could all wait. Harry was sure that there would come a time for hashing out feelings and talking about the past and the future. He knew there would be questions and he would have to give some difficult answers in the times to come. But for now he was caught up in the moment, only focused on what was in front of him and on this moment of embrace.

“You’re here,” Jackson whispered brokenly, his voice muffled slightly as he continued to hug his father. “You’re real,” he choked out.

“I am,” Harry replied quietly and simply as he brought a hand up to the back of his son’s head, pulling him even closer. “And I’m not going anywhere,” he added in reassurance, wanting Jackson to understand that he intended to try to be involved and available to him in any capacity he wanted or wished.

There was no additional response or confirmation of the sentiments from his son. The two remained in embrace for a more moments and Harry continued to take his son in--marvelling at the fact that he was here at all--solid and real.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said quietly as he finally lifted his head from Harry’s shoulder, sniffing away the tears he shed.

“Your shirt,” he added as he pulled away from the embrace and his eyes settled on the spot where his head had rested and where there was now a wet patch on the fabric where Jackson’s tears had fallen.

“It’s--it’s alright,” Harry managed, struggling to find his own voice and free it from the emotion still overwhelming him.

“I don’t usually break off and cry like a little girl,” Jackson added with a nervous, watery smile as he brought a hand up to brush away his tears.

“Happens to all of us,” Harry added as he instinctively reached up and swiped at his own tears.

“I’ll try not to make it a habit of it,” Jackson replied with a little laugh as he ran a hand over his face, trying to compose himself once more.

Harry chuckled in response to the last comment.

Jackson finished drying his eyes--while still red and slightly puffy--were now clear from moisture.

“I have a feeling this won’t be the last of it, though,” Jackson added with another small smile as his clear green eyes met Harry’s. Harry kept his eyes on his son’s for a moment or two--again marveling in the realness and the amazement of who was standing in front of him.

“My doing,” Harry said with a sigh, realizing that whatever emotions had been bantered about and released in the past few minutes would not go away now that the initial meeting was over. There were years of missed memories and events and all the emotion that came with those, that in one way or another, they’d have to address.

Although the tears were drying for the moment and it did not look as though there would be any immediate discussion about those feelings or the hurt he’d caused--there was still much to hash out and there were almost certain to be more tears to come.

“It’s all complicated, isn’t it?” Jackson said simply with a small shrug. “And it wasn’t the most simple decision to make I reckon...”

Although a part of Harry wanted to take this conversation a little further on--this moment was not the one to sift through the pages of the story thus far. There would be times to come where he was sure they’d get to the true heart of things and delve so much deeper into the real impact of all the pain and hurt he’d caused his son and those he’d professed to love and care for.

As Jackson seemed poised to let the more heavy emotions go for now and revel in the realization that they were finally together, Harry decided to leave it be for now and did not respond with anything more than a grateful nod in his son’s direction before the pair headed inside.
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