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SIYE Time:4:57 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: 102984; Chapter Total: 2644





Author's Notes:
I sincerely apologize how long it's taken me to update this story. I've had this chapter 3/4 written for well over a year now--the last 1/4 taking forever to write due to travel, moving, a job promotion and a big bout of writer's block. I hope you enjoy and I want you all to know that this story is not abandoned and I'm still working on getting more out as soon as I can!




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Jackson couldn’t quite understand the level of anger that had welled up in the pit of his stomach over the last few minutes or exactly where it was coming from.

He’d been having a wonderful day. He’d spent the first part of it with his dad--enjoying the small talk and playful conversation as they’d driven into the city to get supplies and stop at his office. It had again been so surreal and so amazing at the same time to be spending this time with his father.

When they’d gotten back, he’d quickly joined his family in the pool and had been having a wonderful time splashing about with his cousins and brother.

That is until his mum and dad had gone away to talk…

He’d first been thrilled at the prospect that they were finally going to sit down and hash things out between them.

A momentary lull in their lively game of keep-away had allowed for the first of the raised voices to be heard.

The adults had tried to shepherd the teens and children out of the pool with the prospect of their late lunch being ready. The last of his smaller cousins had just made it out the door as the shouting had started--loud in the now quiet pool-house.

What had previously been raised--yet unintelligible voices--soon turned to yelling and words that could be clearly discerned.

The things his mum had thrown at his dad had made Jackson’s stomach turn and had been the first thing to raise his ire. He’d made to move towards the door where they were concealed, but had been held back with an arm and a shake of the head by his grandad.

Then there had been a loud crash and the sound of objects skittering across the floor had put everyone on high alert--each of his remaining uncles and aunts moved towards the door as the noise echoed around the room.

His father’s angry voice--something he’d never heard before--rang out loudly.

The two continued to bicker back and forth for another minute or two--his mum continuing to be the one levying the blows.

Their words became quiet--too quiet to hear--for a few moments and Jackson had wondered if they’d both lapsed into silence.

But a his mother’s shout and a loud crash rocked the quiet and his family had leapt into action.

Before Jackson could register what had happened, his Uncle Ron had wrenched the door open with his shoulder--the door banging open and crashing against the wall as his Aunt Hermione and Grandad followed behind.

He’d only gotten close enough to see his dad’s legs sprawled across the floor and could not see where his mother was standing just outside of the door frame before his Uncle Bill placed a halting hand on his shoulder and stopped him from entering the room.

But he had been close enough to hear everything being said within the confines of that room.

He’d heard all of his dad’s weary admission that he HAD indeed tried to come back as recently as a few months ago.

That he’d seen Mum and Alex and Paul in London and that he had--very understandably--assumed that they were a happy family.

They had, after all, been married and raised their children together for years and remained amicable to this day.

He didn’t think that the assumption his father had made at the time had been that much of a leap.

Jackson could hear so much sadness and defeat in his dad’s voice as he spoke from within the next room.

“I knew the selfish part of me was never going to be able to just come back into your life and not want more than just to be present again…”

Did that mean what Jackson thought it did? Was his dad still that much in love with his mum?

Something inside of Jackson leapt with equal parts surprise and excitement at the prospect.

Since his father had come back into his life, there had been moments where Jackson had allowed himself to think about the future that now included his father and what that was going to look like.

And he had to admit that some of those daydreams included scenarios where their little family was whole again and how it was meant to be all those years ago.

“But my reasons aren’t aren’t at all as selfish as you seem to think they are...they never have been.”

Despite how quiet the last words were spoken, the silence that had fallen over the poolhouse made it easy for all to hear.

Suddenly several of the people near the door moved aside at once and before Jackson could react, his dad came striding out of the room. He didn’t appear to notice Jackson standing there as he quickly moved towards the exit without even a sideways glance. Jackson watched as his dad ripped the door open, slamming shut behind him as he disappeared out into the snow.

Jackson’s eyes remained locked for a few moments on the closed door where his dad had just disappeared, but a gentle hand on his shoulder brought his attention back to the room. He turned to see his Uncle Bill standing beside him, his hand still on Jackson’s shoulder.

Jackson looked past his uncle, however, and saw his grandad embracing his mum as his Uncle Ron and Hermione watched the scene with stunned looks on their faces. His grandad seemed to be whispering quiet words of comfort and encouragement as she leaned into his embrace--her head on his chest and her face obscured by her hair.

She seemed to be speaking too, but her words were broken and muffled and Jackson could only catch fragments of, “I didn’t know,” and “I don’t know what--”

Jackson took a step forward, freeing himself from his uncle’s grasp. His Uncle Ron was the first to notice his presence.

“Jackson,” his uncle said simply as he realized that his nephew had not left with the others.

But at the sound of her brother’s voice saying her son’s name, his mum looked up and her eyes settled on him.

Jackson stood still a few steps within the doorway as his mum extricated herself from Grandad’s grip. She took a few tentative steps towards him, opening her arms as she pulled him into a hug.

But Jackson found himself not returning the embrace.

His arms had remained at his sides as his mum had wrapped him up in hers. He remained standing stock still, staring straight ahead and out the window on the far wall--his eyes only seeing the snow-covered woods beyond.

The things his mother had thrown at his dad suddenly sounded loud in his mind and he found the feelings of ire begin to fill him up again as those harsh words rang loud in his head again.

Jackson could feel the eyes of his family on him as the seconds that the hug remained unreturned ticked by.

Finally picking up on her son’s body language his mum stepped away, peering up into his face questioningly.

“Jackson?”

Jackson avoided looking at his mother as she spoke his name. Snow had just started to fall again outside the window--the large flakes landing softly on the already snow-laden trees. Jackson’s eyes remained focused on the falling flakes--a thousand thoughts and words bumping around his head in stark contrast to the soft white outside the window.

“I’d like to talk to my mum,” he found himself saying aloud after a few more silent, tense moments. There was an edge in his voice that Jackson almost did not recognize himself.

“We’ve all had a bit of tense few--” he heard his grandad begin to say in a steady voice as he tried to encourage an end to the awkward situation.

“I need to talk to my mum alone,” Jackson repeated quietly.

“Give us a few minutes,” Jackson heard his mum say to the others.

His family seemed to hesitate for a moment--unsure of whether leaving them alone was the best idea. But after another minute or so, Jackson heard the last of his family shuffle out of the room before the door clicked closed softly.

“I hadn’t realized you were there listening,” his mum said as she stepped away from Jackson.

“I was,” Jackson replied with a stiff nod as he still refused to make eye contact.

“I’m sorry. I never imagined things would turn like that,” she apologized as she raked a hand through her hair as she began to pace.

“I thought I understood,” Jackson began. His mum stopped her pacing momentarily and looked at him in confusion.

“All this time I thought I understood why you were so angry at him,” Jackson clarified as he shook his head. “That I understood about how you felt left behind and left in the dark-- that I got that much…”

“It’s complicated,” his mother replied quietly.

It was perhaps her simple answer to a situation that was much more than just complicated that rankled him even further.

“I really can't believe you,” Jackson said as he shook his head--his voice dripping with disgust.

“What?” his mother replied in shock, turning to face him with wide-eyes.

“The things you said to him--the shit you threw in his face,” Jackson supplied in a harsh face. “I can’t believe it.”

“Jackson--this is between him and I--it shouldn’t concern you,” his mum replied in a weak attempt to placate and assure him.

“Shouldn’t concern me?” Jackson roared as he threw his hands up on frustration. “Of course this bloody well concerns me!”

“Ever since we found out he’s alive--you’ve been somewhere else--someone else,” Jackson continued as he rounded on his mum. “Some days I don’t even recognize you.”

“You’ve become this angry, bitter person that I certainly don’t like,” Jackson added. “And I can’t even tell you the last time I’ve seen you smile--genuinely smile, Mum.”

His mum looked shocked at his outburst--her mouth slightly agape as she stared at him with wide eyes.

“I was angry too--at first,” Jackson admitted, his voice still heated. “In all the shock and excitement of what it meant for him to be alive--it wasn’t lost on me that he chose to leave everything.”

“He left us behind,” his mum said quietly. The hurt in her voice was evident. “Both of us.”

“It can look that way,” Jackson stated. “But the more I’ve thought about…” he started--breaking off as he ran a hand through his messy hair.

“The more I’ve thought about why--his reasoning for the decisions he ultimately made…” Jackson continued. “The funny thing is...I’m not so sure I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I were in that situation…”

“What?” his mum replied in a low, shocked and strangled whisper.

“I said I would have done what he did,” Jackson repeated, his voice sounding much stronger than he felt. “Especially if I was as terrified as he must have been, and if I had to do something so drastic to save everyone I cared about. It’s why I can’t hate him for choosing to do what he did.”

“You weren’t there,” his mum said as she took a deep breath, her eyes falling upon the snowflakes pelting and melting against the glass. “You don’t know what it was like.”

“But you were,” Jackson replied. “You understood how things were. You understood him.”

Jackson watched on as his mother swallowed heavily, still looking lost as he words resonated in the quiet room.

“I grew up without my dad,” Jackson said steadily, leaning against the desk and remnants of shattered equipment to prop himself up as his knees shook with emotion. “Despite that, I’ve had a great life. I’ve had an amazing childhood--worry-free and full of adventure.”

“And I have this great big--crazy--family full of so many people who love me and care for me in more ways than I’d ever be able to thank them for,” Jackson continued.

“He may not have been here with me along the way,” Jackson added, “but he and those choices he made are why I’m here--in a world free of Voldemort--where I can spend my time worrying about my next Potions essay instead of which dark wizard might be lurking around the corner.”

Jackson watched has mother closed her eyes briefly, her features plainly marred with the stress she was feeling.

“I thought I knew everything about him,” his mum said quietly. “More and better than most…”

“And I really don’t know him at all--save from what I’ve learned second-hand from everyone else,” Jackson countered. “But what I do know--even after only a handful of hours with him--is that he really is that good person I’ve always been told about. He truly cares about this family--all of us.”

His mother still had no real response to his words aside from continuing to look exhausted and lost. This caused the anger to flare up again within the pit of Jackson’s stomach as he wanted his mum to share the same visceral feelings that were currently rising up from within himself.

“You knew him and you loved him,” Jackson said simply. “And you’ve continued to love him all these years--I know you have.”

“So I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why you’re more angry at the fact that he made his choice, than you are at the idea that he was put in such a terrifying and impossible position in the first place,” Jackson finished, his voice quiet yet full of his frustrations and anger.

With one last blazing look at his mum, Jackson pushed away from the desk he’d been leaning against and swept out of the room without another word.

------------------------------- --------------------------------
The room was darker than it had been when he’d closed his eyes--the late afternoon light fading into evening over the snowy landscape outside the window. He hadn’t been asleep for all that long, but it had been long enough to be caught unaware of anyone entering the room.

Slowly he opened his eyes, lifting his head slightly from his pillow to see who entered while he’d been sleeping. It took a moment or two for his eyes to adjust to the darkened room. But once he was able to see, it was quite clear who was sitting near the foot of the bed.

She was seated on the edge of the bed, leaning forward slightly so that her red hair obscured the side profile of her face. Even in the darkness of the room her hair seemed to stand out and shine.

Harry hadn’t expected her to be here--for her to come to him. He’d had his attempt at talking to her and it had gone badly wrong. He didn’t know what he could possibly say that wouldn’t make things even worse, so he chose to stay silent.

“I’m sorry for pushing you.”

The words were quiet and Harry wasn’t quite sure he’d heard her right as she spoke them. Her tone was so much softer than what he’d experienced earlier.

“I--I didn’t mean for you to hurt your back,” Ginny said in a whisper.

Harry let out a sigh.

“I shouldn’t have grabbed your arm. I just--I just didn’t want you to leave like that.”

Ginny let out a sigh of her own.

At the same time, the little girl still tucked snuggly against his side shifted and Harry lifted his head and looked down--remembering that Sophie had fallen asleep earlier after being brought in by Hermione.

“Can you at least understand why I’m angry--why this hurts?” Ginny said quietly as her eyes sought answers in the darkness. Harry watched her profile from the side, taking in for a moment the familiarity in her features that had only changed minutely with time.

Even in this tense time, he couldn’t help but think just how was beautiful she was.

“Gin--”

“You could have come back,” Ginny continued as her voice grew in volume. “I know what you said you thought you saw--but you could have--”

“I’m not doing this right now,” Harry interrupted as Sophie shifted in his arms again. “I’m not having this fight...not with her here.”

For the first time Ginny’s gaze fell upon the little girl, her tense features softening slightly as she took in the scene.

“I’m not here to fight,” Ginny replied as her shoulders slumped slightly as she lowered her head. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did--it wasn’t right.”

“I just don’t know what to do--what to think--to make this better.”

Harry watched as Ginny swallowed heavily, fighting hard against emotion as she closed her eyes.

Harry’s eyes drifted to the hand that was gripping the blankets, his mind simultaneously wanting to comfort while screaming at him not to do what he was about to.

Slowly Harry moved his free arm and placed an open hand gently over the top of Ginny’s.

He half-expected her to yell at him again--or at least pull away. But instead she looked down at their touching hands, taking a second to register Harry’s upon her own as if she could scarcely believe what she was seeing.

After a moment she looked away, but very slowly turned her palm from the bed so that it was touching his--her fingers curling to grasp his hand.

They sat there for a long while in the darkness--each seemingly unwilling to move or speak for fear that this tiny bubble of hope would be popped.

He hated that he had caused her so much pain--that he was still hurting her. The woman sitting next to him now was a far cry from the girl he knew all those years ago. When they were younger, he’d seen Ginny vulnerable and open and he’d seen her fired up and passionate--all were traits he’d loved about her.

But this Ginny was different.

She had been very fired up earlier--but in anger and disgust. Her bitter and biting nature was not something he’d experienced before and had never had levied directly at himself. The words that she’d flung at him--the things she’d said--they had been aimed to wound and to cut. She’d wanted him to feel some semblance of the hurt she’d experienced.

He couldn’t blame her for hating him--he just wished that he could do or say something to make it not so.

“Maybe it would have been better for everyone if I’d just died? Maybe it would have spared us from all of this…pain?” Harry said quietly--the words leaving his lips before he could stop himself.

He felt Ginny’s hand tense in his own and she looked up from her quiet contemplation and turned her head towards where he still lay in bed.

“I would never wish for that. Ever.”

Even in the darkness, Ginny’s quiet voice cut through the night like a knife.

“As difficult as this--seems--this is so much better than you really being gone,” Ginny continued on.

“Because I know what that feels like--and that’s real pain,” Ginny said softly as she looked away, struggling to maintain her composure. “As messed up as everything is right now--that world where you weren’t a part of it anymore--it was hell for a long time.”

“We may have all did what we could to move on and try to live some sort of life--but that empty place where you should have been all those years--it never went away.”

“Gin--” Harry began quietly as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

She shook her head and used her other hand to wipe away a tear that had managed to escape.

“I’m angry and I’m still not sure what to do with that--but I would never wish you dead,” Ginny told him as she turned her gaze towards him and met his eyes.

“I wish I could change so many things…” Harry said quietly as he felt his own emotions welling up inside of himself--threatening to spill over.

“I do too,” Ginny replied with a small, sad smile as her eyes shifted from Harry’s and settled upon the little girl still lying asleep in her father’s arms.

“But if we changed everything to what we envision may have been our perfect world--” Ginny began slowly as her eyes stayed fixed upon the child, “--I wouldn’t have my Alex.”

“And you wouldn’t have your beautiful little girl,” she added as she placed a free hand atop Sophie’s thick black locks for a moment, brushing aside the strands in an almost loving manner.

“And as much as I would have wanted you for myself all of those years--I can’t imagine either of us would trade their lives for that,” she finished quietly as she brought her hand back to her lap.

Harry could not find any flaw or disagreement in Ginny’s words.

Over the last few weeks--months really--he had found himself dwelling on what could have been more times than he could count. If he had made different choices all those years ago, they could have had that wonderful life that he’d only let himself dream about in quiet moments during the war.

But Ginny was right. He would never wish for even one day in that ‘perfect’ world if it meant that his Sophie could no longer be a part of his life. She was his little spark plug, the light of his life--her birth and presence in his life had brought him back from the brink in the truly dark times in his past.

No--as much as it hurt to know he had caused so much pain and devastation to those in his past--it hurt that much more to think of a life without his daughter.

“Then what do we do?” Harry asked quietly. “How do we move on from here?”

“I’m not sure,” Ginny whispered before letting out a heavy sigh. “I really don’t know,” she added--sounded as lost as Harry felt.

There was a small sliver of frustration that welled up at her lack of answers. He desperately wanted to know how he could begin to repair at least a small piece of what he’d broken all those years ago.

But he also knew well enough that he couldn’t push her--and that just having her sitting with him at this moment was a big step.

“I want to continue to try to be involved Jackson’s life as much as I can,” Harry supplied after a few moments. “If that’s alright with you.”

“He’s of age,” Ginny replied with a small smile. “He can make his own decisions. But I’m fairly certain at this point he’d wants that very much.”

“You’re still his mother,” Harry offered sheepishly, “And I want to make sure you’re aware and in agreement with everything going on.”

Ginny nodded, but did not say anything further.

“I--I was going to ask you if it might be ok if maybe Jackson stays a few extra days after everyone leaves tomorrow,” Harry brought up suddenly--partially in an attempt to span the silence. “If that’s okay,” he added.

Ginny seemed to be mulling the idea over for a moment.

“Again...it’s really up to him,” she replied. “He is due back at school on Monday--but quite honestly--McGonagall owes him for her part in everything,” she added with a bit of bite in her tone with her last words.

Amidst all of the immediate drama, Harry had momentarily forgotten Minerva McGonagall’s involvement in assisting him all those years ago. He’d been focused more on the reaction towards Remus, as Tonks and their children had been present in his home this Christmas. Both of his former professors had been integral in helping him develop the theory and spellwork that had ultimately set the chain of events into motion.

“I’ll handle her if she questions his late return,” Ginny assured him as she slowly raised herself up from her seat on the edge of the bed.

Harry had no doubt that Professor McGonagall would have a tough time if it came to testing Ginny on the matter of her son’s extended vacation.

“I should really go talk to Jackson, actually,” Ginny said with a sigh as she moved towards the doorway. “I owe him an apology.”

Harry wasn’t exactly sure what she meant by her last statement, but stayed silent as he watched her go.

It didn’t feel as though they resolved much in their short time together just now--there were still so many things up in the air and feelings that had remained unspoken.

But somehow Harry felt a little bit lighter and a sliver more hopeful about whatever future may be yet to come.

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