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SIYE Time:7:50 on 29th March 2024
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Keeping Even The Broken Promises
By Summer Potter

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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance
Warnings: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations
Rating: R
Reviews: 255
Summary: It's been four years since Harry Potter woke up in a strange city, with no memory. Harry begins an unexpected journey to uncover who he is and what he's left behind. Turns out Harry has broken a lot of promises he doesn't remember making. Will he ever regain his memories? Will he ever be able to live up to any of his promises?
Hitcount: Story Total: 84880; Chapter Total: 4967
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Thank you for all the wonderful reviews and support! I could not possibly have the strength to continue writing without all you lovely people! (Especially while I'm writing a rather troubled Harry.) I hope you enjoy chapter eight! I would also like to address something that has confused and upset a startling number of people (judging by PMs and reviews). In the muggle world (aka reality) people suffering from memory loss can retain an emotional pull toward important people. But please remember that in DH, Hermione modified her parents' memories so that they assume alternative identities and do not know that they have a daughter-- therefore (in theory), they possess no recognition or any subconscious pull toward Hermione because they've got no clue that they're missing a daughter. In Harry's case, Ginny is a complete and total new person to him- just as Hermione would be to "Wendell and "Monica Wilkins." So don't fret: I'll be revealing what's happened to Harry soon (and you can bet I haven't just given everything away). Hopefully this will reassure anyone who is panicking that I've got a plan and I'm not overlooking the psychology courses I've taken-- magic is different from amnesia. Also: I ALWAYS write a happy ending :P Happy reading!!!




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Chapter 8: Making Progress

“Are you mad?!” Hermione shrieked. “You hit him!”

“He deserved it!”

Harry watched as Hermione huffed and swatted at her husband’s arm. If he wasn’t stunned from being punched in the face, he might have laughed. He got the feeling that Ron and Hermione were a couple who bickered often, though they fought because it made life fun, not because they didn’t get along. Ron didn’t seem phased by his wife’s irritation and truthfully, Hermione wasn’t overly angry.

But this didn’t stop Hermione from lecturing Ron. “Ronald Weasley, he’s your best friend and you haven’t seen him in four years! How you could this?”

Flat on his back, Harry listened to Hermione’s lecturing, mildly amused by how nonchalant Ron sounded in spite of Hermione’s distress. Harry gingerly touched his face where Ron had hit him. He was glad that Ron’s fist hadn’t knocked out any of his teeth. The skin was hot and already starting to swell, but the punch was well-aimed and well-deserved, so Harry didn’t mind. A glance at his fingers revealed a trace of blood, which he promptly wiped on his pants. Ron had a good right hook!

“I’m fine, Hermione,” Harry reassured her, sitting up slowly and blinking several times. His vision was a tad bleary and his head spun momentarily as he moved, but he felt okay. He sincerely hoped he didn’t have another concussion from smacking his head off the floor. Although, if he was hoping for things, he wished that Ron’s punch had knocked his memories back into him, along with his senses. But of course, Harry didn’t have that kind of luck.

Hermione watched as Harry slowly got to his feet, her expression pained. “Ron, look at his face! Oh, Harry…”

“Does it look bad?” Harry asked, wondering if Hermione could just use magic to fix him up. He really didn’t want to spend the next week looking like he’d been in a bar fight, especially if he was going to meet his son soon. He dabbed at his cheek with his shirtsleeve, though he was barely bleeding.

“I’ll get you some ice,” Hermione said, hurrying out of the room.

The moment Hermione had gone into the kitchen, Harry glanced at Ron, feeling stupid for his earlier outburst. Ron no longer looked angry, just a little sheepish now that they were alone in the room.

“Thanks,” Harry murmured, embarrassed that he’d needed to be punched in the face in order to calm down. “I needed that.”

Ron smiled a little and shrugged. “No problem.”

Harry and Ron sat opposite each other, though neither of them spoke. Hermione returned with a bag of ice wrapped up in a dishtowel. She handed it to Harry and sat next to him again.

“Are you sure you’re alright? It looks painful.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, gratefully accepting the ice. The moment he pressed the bag to his face, he felt immediate relief. “I’ve faced a dragon, right? I bet those injuries were way worse.”

Ron grinned in amusement, but Hermione didn’t find it funny at all. Harry quickly suppressed his own amusement so as not to upset Hermione anymore. He supposed that Hermione was worried about him getting mad and leaving again.

“I feel better,” Harry said. “I sort of… lost it for a minute there.”

“It’s understandable,” Hermione said quickly, throwing Ron another dirty look. “We’re just looking out for you, Harry. You know that, right? We didn’t mean to put all this pressure on you! We’re just really worried about you and Ginny. You both have been through so much…”

“I know, but you’re right. I do have to think about all these things. As much as I don’t want to think about the future, I know I have to.”

“But we also realize that you need time to let all of this sink in. This can’t be easy for you! You might not remember who you are, but we do. We know that ultimately, you’ll make the right decision; you always do.” Hermione looked at Ron again. “And you still haven’t apologized to him!”

It was nice that Hermione had faith in him to do the right thing, especially when he had none in himself. Though he barely knew them, Harry was comforted by the fact that his friendships with Ron and Hermione would take little to no work to repair.

“I’m not sorry,” Ron said with a shrug. “He was being a prat–so I hit him.”

“Hermione, it’s fine,” he said quickly, hoping to keep the peace.

Ron grinned slightly. “See? We’re good. I feel better–he feels better.”

Hermione did not look impressed, but she sighed and seemed to give up pushing Ron to apologize. “I’ll never understand the pair of you,” she huffed.

The sound of Harry’s cell phone ringing made all three of them jump in surprise. Harry pulled out his phone and stared down at Sam’s name on his caller id. Harry hesitated, not really in the mood to talk to Sam right now. His face hurt and his head was swimming with thoughts about convincing Ginny to let him see James. He was not in the mood to deal with Sam and telling her anything, but he also knew that he couldn’t put it off much longer.

“Go ahead,” Hermione said quickly. “Answer it. You can take it in the next room.”

Harry very nearly ignored the call, but then decided to just get it over with. The longer he put it off, the worse it would be. Besides, if he dealt with this now, he could focus on Ginny and James. Besides, he should just do it now, when he still had his senses (thanks to Ron).

“Okay,” he decided, not bothering to hide his reluctance. “I’ll be right back.” Harry stood and quickly exited the room before he answered the phone. “Hey,” he said, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Hi!” Sam sounded happy at the other end of the line, which quickly made him feel a twinge of guilt at his own lack of enthusiasm. “I know this call is probably going to cost me a few hundred bucks, but I don’t care. How are you? How’s the search going?”

Despite not wanting to answer the phone, Harry had to admit that it was nice to hear her voice. As he was thrust into a life that wasn’t his and feeling out of place, hearing Sam’s voice made him feel grounded. Talking to her was such a normal, everyday thing that felt like a relief from all this craziness; talking to her didn’t involve dark magic, fictional creatures or intimidating tasks such as needing to learn how to be a wizard and a father. There was so much to say, and yet most of it he couldn’t tell her or didn’t want to discuss. As quickly as he’d felt the relief, these feelings reverted back into a source of stress.

“Um, well, it’s going okay…”

Great, Harry, a vague answer–that won’t encourage her to ask lots of questions that you can’t answer.

“You’ve made progress?” She asked, sounding a little surprised. Harry remembered how against Sam had been with this trip and how little faith she’d had in him. He wondered if she felt bad about that now, considering he’d actually achieved something. “That’s great! What have you found out?”

Harry scrubbed his face with his free hand, trying to figure how what to tell her. Well, I’m married and I have a son. Oh, and I’m a famous wizard. But no, I haven’t found out anything life-altering, terrifying or strange.

“Harry?” Sam prompted when he didn’t respond.

“It’s a long story…” Harry finally said with a nervous laugh. Tell her. Just tell her. You owe her the truth. She stuck by you and supported you, no matter how infuriating or obsessive you were–she doesn’t deserve to be lied to for any length of time.

“I don’t mind a long story. My bank account might mind, but I don’t,” she said with a laugh.

Harry grimaced, deciding to leave the worst part of the conversation to the end. He did not want to tell her over the phone, but he didn’t have much of a choice. Then again, telling her over the phone might be the safer alternative. There was no doubt in Harry’s mind that this would be their worst fight yet, maybe even their last.

If Sam had been pissed about his leaving, she would be far more upset to learn that her boyfriend was married and had son. She would be angry and jealous and heartbroken to learn that Sam had unknowingly been the ‘other woman’ all these years.

Not ready to tell her yet, he decided to talk about Ron and Hermione.

“I managed to find my two best friends from school: Ron and Hermione,” he told her, unable to sound as pleased as he actually was. Finding Ron and Hermione was good news, but in his current nervous, slightly nauseous state, it sounded like he regretted it. Luckily, Sam didn’t notice his lack of enthusiasm.

“Hermione?” Sam repeated amusedly. “That’s a name you don’t hear very often. Anyway, that’s exciting! What are they like? Are they happy to see you again?”

“Ron wasn’t at first, but he came around.” Harry reached up to touch his sore cheek, wishing he’d brought the ice with him. “They’re really nice people. I can see why I was friends with them.”

“I guess it’s normal that Ron might hold it against you for being gone so long,” Sam said reasonable. “I’m sure he will forgive you. After all, a head injury is definitely a good reason for why you can’t remember them.”

Harry rolled his eyes, wishing things were as simple as a head injury…

“Yeah,” Harry agreed distractedly. He was trying to think of the easiest and gentlest way to tell Sam the truth, but he couldn’t think properly. He couldn’t seem to get past his worrying about her reaction and how terrible the aftermath would be.

“So what else is new?” Sam prompted conversationally. “You’re so quiet! I miss you! Talk to me!”

“Well, they’ve been telling me a lot about my past. My parents died when I was a baby and I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Harry said, stalling for time.

“Oh, no!” Sam exclaimed. “Honey, I’m so sorry. That’s terrible news!”

“Yeah, I didn’t expect to hear that…”

In the next room, Hermione was laughing at something Ron had said. Harry glanced toward the sound of Hermione’s laughter and Ron’s deep murmuring voice. He felt a deep longing to be apart of that conversation– to be in that room instead of dealing with this really difficult situation. It was beginning to occur to him that in the last four years, even his closest friends were not that close to him. He had no desire to call Andrew or Julia, or any of his other friends from work. He wondered if he ever made the decision to move here, would he even miss them? On the other hand, he was sure that he would miss Ron and Hermione if he decided to stay in New York. Ron and Hermione had known him since childhood–his whole life was here with them. The thought of returning to New York and living away from the people who knew the real him made him feel queasy.

“So I guess your childhood wasn’t the best that it could have been,” Sam said sympathetically. “If I were you, I might even be a little relieved I don’t remember the bad stuff.”

Harry ignored her last comment, disagreeing with her completely because he wanted to know everything–the good, the bad, and the terrible. He believed that all these things made up one’s identity and he had no memories of anything. Fortunately, this comment gave him some strength to be able to tell her about Ginny and James.

“And there was something else they told me… something rather shocking. I’m not sure what to do with this information right now,” he blurted, his tongue suddenly feeling rather cottony.

Tell her. Just be a man and tell her.

Sam sensed his tone and Harry could tell that she was bracing herself for the news. When she spoke, her voice was calm, careful and slow. “Something worse than finding out about your parents?”

Harry shifted the phone to his other ear, staring up at the ceiling as he braced himself to say the words that he knew would further pull the rug out from under him. Telling Sam might mean losing his pillar of support and understanding. Their relationship might not have been perfect, but they’d been together four years… No matter how many fights they’d had, Sam wasn’t just any girl.

“I found out I’m married,” Harry admitted softly.

There was a very long, terrible silence that followed these words. Harry stood very still, listening to her quickening breathing on the other end. Any minute now, she would start to cry and Harry would feel that terrible helplessness that he always felt when she cried.

“Are you serious?” Sam asked weakly, her voice quivering. “You’re married?”

Why? Why had someone done this to him? Why had someone used magic to rip him away from his family? Why had someone decided to do something so cruel; something that would hurt so many people? What had he done to deserve this? And it wasn’t just him–Sam, Ginny, James, Ron, Hermione… what had they done to deserve this?

“Yes,” Harry said, his heart beating very fast in his chest. “And I have a son. He’s four… his name is James.”

“Oh my god,” Sam cried loudly, unable to hold back anymore.

Harry listened to her cry for what felt like hours, hating himself and the unknown person who had made him hurt her. He had hurt too many people and coming back here, finding the truth… all of it seemed to be causing more pain. Maybe he should have accepted his fate and made the best of things? He would suffer from the endless unknowns of who he was, but at least Sam and Ginny wouldn’t hurt anymore. Life would have gone on and the past would have been left alone, undisturbed and bearable.

“I just… I don’t really know what to say…” Sam sobbed. “You’re married? You have a son…”

There was nothing to do but apologize. “Sam, I’m so sorry.”

“We’ve been together for four years,” Sam exclaimed. “And all this time you’ve been married! You have a family! And I’ve always wanted that with you! I thought if I waited long enough…” She broke off into heavy sobs.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he pleaded, feeling his own tears well up in his eyes. He was breaking her heart–he’d now broken the hearts of two women in his life.

“Maybe that’s why you could never commit… maybe part of you remembered you already had that with someone else?” Sam suggested miserably. “And I don’t mean that to sound bitchy… but maybe it explains why you and I never reached that stage. I just kept hoping and waiting that you’d want what I wanted.”

“I don’t know,” Harry replied quietly, not really wanting to discuss the psychology of his behavior of the last four years.

Sam managed to calm herself after several long minutes. When she was calm enough to speak, she asked: “So… what happens now?”

As he thought about his answer, Harry moved slightly so that he could see Ron and Hermione sitting together, talking about something that he couldn’t hear. He knew Sam was asking what was going to happen next with their relationship; a question he really didn’t want to think about right now. Mostly this was because he didn’t have an answer. He didn’t know what was going to happen with his own life in the next week so how was he supposed to make big life decisions about the next few years? Harry didn’t want to think at all–his mind was a one-track mind now and James was all that mattered.

“What do you mean?” He asked, wanting more time to think. He knew exactly what she meant, but playing dumb was just easier.

“I mean you’re married… so that sort of makes our relationship complicated, at best. At worst, it means we’re breaking up.” Sam was beginning to sound short and cold, quickly turning from crying to taking up a defensive position.

“I know,” Harry said. “I’m so sorry that it’s so complicated. I do love you. I never expected that this would happen. I’m so confused and I’m having such a hard time accepting all of this.” He paused, listening to her silence.

Harry hated silence.

“It’s not like I’m in love with Ginny and I’m planning on tossing what we have away. But all that matters right now is my son. I need to know him and until I do that, I can’t come home.”

Sam was still quiet, so Harry continued talking. He was hoping that she could at least appreciate, if not understand, his situation. Harry wasn’t even sure he could properly explain himself, but he had to try. He felt a deep, desperate need to meet James and to connect with him, and this need to be around James was greater than getting his memories back.

“Ginny won’t talk to me. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her and figure things out. She won’t even let me see James! And that’s all I can think about right now–meeting James. I have to meet my son.”

“Okay,” Sam said finally. Harry supposed she was trying to sound icy and angry, but really, he just heard the pain in her voice. “So… you’ll have a chat with this woman? She sounds delightful, by the way,” Sam said, getting snippy again. “She won’t let you see your own kid? Does she know about me yet?”

Jealousy was such a vicious, terrible thing. Harry had seen Sam jealous before and it was not pretty. And even though he couldn’t see her now, he could hear it in her voice; Sam was jealous of Ginny. Jealous because Ginny had what she wanted with him, but couldn’t have. Harry wasn’t stupid; Sam had been hinting at marriage for the last year and a half. He’d always known that Sam wanted the house, the kids, and the happily ever after, but Harry had always put it off because he didn’t want to commit to a future when he didn’t know his past.

Trying to keep his voice calm was difficult. Harry hated it when she got jealous. Jealousy was always accompanied by a lack of reason and meanness. “No, I haven’t told her, but I told you that it’s because we haven’t talked. I’ve seen Ginny for about a total of twelve minutes. She stormed out a little while ago, refusing to let me near James.”

Sam seemed to be debating whether or not he was telling the truth. In the end, she apparently accepted that he wasn’t lying or exaggerating. “Fine, but will you talk to her? Tell me what you’re going to say.”

How the hell was he supposed to know what he was going to say?

“I’ll tell her the truth–like I’m telling you now. I hate that I’ve hurt both of you so badly. Ginny and I will talk about seeing James and getting to know him, because that’s the most important thing. James is more important than getting my memory back–he’s the most important thing.”

“Harry, at what point do you come home? After you go to court to get custody of the kid? After you spend a year with him?”

He knew that Sam was hurting and that she would regret being so bitter, but he was angry at Sam for saying ‘kid’ like James was some bastard offspring; dirty and unwanted. Sam had a right to dislike Ginny on principle and he was ultimately going to ignore any mean comments she might have for Ginny, but insinuating anything mean or negative about James was something he would not stand for.

Still, he fought to control his temper. If he started yelling at Sam, Ron and Hermione would hear it and he didn’t want that. He wanted to keep his issues with Sam quiet, to avoid having the whole Weasley-clan discussing how fucked up his life was.

“I don’t know,” he said simply, not trusting himself to say anymore than this. “I love you,” Harry repeated, but his voice was hard. “I don’t want to pick up where I left off with Ginny. All I want is to get to know James.”

“Well, that’s not what I’m asking you,” Sam snapped, sounding a little hysterical. “Will you ask her for a divorce?”

Divorce.

It was such an angry, miserable, and depressing word. Asking Ginny for a divorce seemed like such a terrible thing. Besides, if he demanded a divorce, he was sure that Ginny would pull away from him even more, which would really hurt his chances of seeing James.

And divorces could be devastating for kids. It made sense, of course, to legally be separated from Ginny, but he would not do anything that might keep him from his son.

“Well?” Sam said irritably.

Harry didn’t want to talk about divorce with Sam–that was a conversation between him and Ginny, and it was not a priority. It wouldn’t matter if he got divorced tomorrow or in several months, but that’s not how Sam would see it. That’s not how any girl would see it. Sam wanted him to choose her and no amount of reassurance would convince her of his choice.

He knew how much his answer mattered to Sam and their relationship, but right now, he wasn’t going to consider a divorce or bring it up with Ginny. Demanding a divorce was not a good idea right now. He needed to get on Ginny’s good side and convince her that his intentions were good.

“Sam, my priority right now is to see James,” Harry repeated firmly. “I’m exhausted and confused. People keep telling me all these things about my life and who I’m supposed to be, and my mind is on overload. One step at a time, please…”

Sam’s silence was deafening. Harry grimaced at the opposite wall, imagining her face. Yep, she was pissed.

“Okay,” she finally said in a lifeless voice.

Harry hated her silence almost as much as her jealousy. “Sam, please… please try to understand what sort of situation I’m in. I’ve already hurt her and I’ve hurt my son. I don’t want to make it worse. And I really don’t want to get into a custody battle. I need to fix things with Ginny so I can see James. And then I’ll figure everything else out, I promise.”

Sam took nearly a full sixty seconds to reply. And when she finally spoke, her voice sounded odd. He was having trouble trying to figure out what emotion she was fighting right now.

“I know. You’re thinking of your son,” Sam said. “It’s just hard for me… I’m here and you’re there.” Sam sighed heavily. “Harry, I need to go… I need to go for a walk and clear my head.”

Harry rubbed his face with his free hand in frustration. Part of him was relieved that this phone call was ending, but the other part of him was speaking a warning that bad things were coming. “Alright. Sam, I am sorry,” he told her as sincerely as he could. “I’ll talk to you later?”

“Yes, later,” Sam agreed distractedly.

“I love you,” Harry told her, but she’d already hung up.

Harry clutched his cell phone tightly in his hand, hating that they couldn’t talk properly; hating that they were so far apart. He hoped that she didn’t start a fight via text message–he hated those. He was feeling angry and frustrated, and his mood was made worse by the fact that his face still hurt.

The moment Harry had learned he was a married man, he’d known deep down that it would be incredibly difficult to convince Sam to stick around long enough for him to sort it out. Sam would be distrusting of his ability to end things, even if Ginny herself told Sam that she had no desire to be married anymore. Even if Ginny had gotten a divorce and was remarried–Sam was not a forgive-and-forget type of person. That, on top of the fact that their relationship was already rocky, meant his chances of fixing things with Sam were slim.

The only question now was how long before his relationship blew up in his face. Harry glared at the phone in his hand, feeling helpless to fix this. Nothing he said or did would repair the damage that had been done. What made him feel worse was his guilt because right now, he wasn’t even sure that he wanted to fix this. His mind was still set on having his son in his life. As much as he loved Sam, if he had to pick between them, James would win.

This was an incredibly strange and oddly satisfying thought: that James, a mere child whom he had never met, had this much pull in his decision-making.

Harry knew he was heading for rock bottom at an alarming rate. Ginny hated him and was refusing to let him see James. He was expecting James to harbor feelings of distrust, abandonment and negativity toward him. Sam was heartbroken and would refuse to be of any sort of support for him, until he could inform her of his impending divorce. And while things were good with Ron and Hermione, his other friends and the rest of his family would probably forever harbor feelings of disappointment and distrust for him.

“I’m so fucked,” Harry grumbled, shoving his phone back in his pocket. If and when he ever found out who had taken his memories and sent him to New York, he was going to make sure that this person was punished for their actions.

A new, rather breathless voice startled Harry from where he stood in the kitchen.
“Harry! Is he here? I just saw in the paper and I couldn’t believe it!”

Grateful for the distraction, Harry returned to the living room to see who had come to see him. An older woman with red hair, wearing a flowery apron and faded, long, purple robes stood opposite him. She gaped at him with a very shocked expression.

“It’s true,” the woman whispered in wonder. But then her eyes narrowed and she placed her hands on her hips. Harry suddenly felt small, like he was a kid about to be berated by his mother. “So you’re back, are you?”

“It’s not what you think, Molly,” Hermione said quickly, hurrying between the woman called Molly and Harry. “Sit down, we’ll explain everything.”

Harry came and sat down, glad to at least be distracted from the phone call. He might have to sit through another one of these awkward revelation-conversations, but it was better than enduring listening to sobs over the phone.

“Harry, this is my mum,” Ron said, as Hermione quickly explained everything. “Molly Weasley.”

Once Hermione had finished, Harry sheepishly took her that it was nice to meet her. Molly let out a strangled cry and then tugged him forward into the tightest, but warmest hug he could ever remember receiving.

“Hello,” Harry gasped, trying very hard to get air into his lungs.

“Oh, Harry, dear…” Molly cried happily. “I’m so relieved… so happy…” She pulled back and patted his cheek affectionately. “Look at you! You look so different! Well, you must feel different! Poor dear, this is just terrible!”

She said all this very fast, keeping one hand squeezing his.

“Thank you,” Harry said, pleased by her warm greeting. It was nice that Molly, much like Hermione, had accepted the truth so quickly. “So, you’re my mother-in-law?”

Molly flushed and nodded. “Yes, dear. And what in Godric’s name has happened to your face?

Harry hesitated and Ron actually chuckled, drawing his mother’s attention. Apparently, Molly was very intuitive and she gave her son a reproachful stare.

“It’s fine,” Harry reassured her, smiling in spite of himself.

Molly returned her attention to Harry, although she looked like she wanted to say something. Instead of scolding Ron as Hermione did, she asked: “Where is Ginny?” The concern in Molly’s voice reminded Harry the implications of Molly being his mother-in-law. For the last four years, Molly was probably responsible for helping her daughter to pick up after the mess he had left. He imagined that Ginny had relied on her mother for help taking care of her infant son and for getting back on her feet.

Harry felt mildly embarrassed and even more relieved that Molly was happy to see him. Really, if anyone should want to hurt him, it should have been Ginny’s mother and Ginny herself.

“She was here,” Ron said grimly.

Molly didn’t seem to need any more explanation to know that Ginny was here and then had left in a hurry. Molly, however, didn’t seem too concerned by this news as she quickly smiled at Harry.

“Well, I suppose we should let her cool off. Harry, why don’t you tell us about where you’ve been hiding these last four years!”

Harry gladly answered the questions, though talking about New York made him feel guilty about Sam again. His life had been good for the last four years and not at all grim and overly difficult, as might be determined by his tone. It was difficult to be cheerful when the world felt like it was crumbling beneath his feet. New York no longer felt like a home, but neither did London.

Molly, like Hermione, was very curious and friendly about who Harry was (or who he thought he was). Molly shared many stories about the wizarding world, of what he was like as a kid, and about the adults in his life who had been like parents to him. She talked to him about his godfather Sirius Black and another friend of his father’s, Remus Lupin. She told him about Dumbledore and about Hagrid, who had been his mentors and friends. She also offered to help Harry get settled back in his old house, since he needed a proper place to stay. (Molly was horrified by the thought of Harry staying at the Leaky Cauldron for an extended amount of time.)

“Harry, you cannot stay in such a public place! The reporters would find you… you need to be in a place with security measures in place! Your old house is still protected by enchantments.”

Mrs. Weasley also brought up the very good point that whoever had taken his memories would have much easier to access to him at the Leaky Cauldron, than if he returned to his old house.

After agreeing to stay in his house, Mrs. Weasley also made him swear that he would attend a celebratory dinner in honour of his return in a few days time. Harry agreed, though he was nervous about meeting the rest of Ginny’s brothers, who probably would want to greet him in the same way Ron did. Seeing his nervous expression, Molly kindly promised that she would fill the rest of the family in on the details, so as to avoid any awkwardness or damage to his face. Ron chuckled at his mother’s serious tone.

Harry was grateful–being punched one time was helpful, but his life was already turning to shit without having his ass kicked by four other Weasleys.

The rest of the day drifted by in pleasant conversation and a lovely dinner that Hermione and Molly cooked up. Arthur Weasley arrived a little after dinner, though this reunion was much more awkward than meeting Mrs. Weasley. Harry shook Arthur’s hand, feeling the tension in the way he glared daggers at him.

While Arthur listened to the truth and seemed to accept it, Harry could see that it didn’t fully erase his anger. He supposed he was getting off lucky with just one parent still angry with him and he didn’t blame Arthur for his less-than-friendly stares. He imagined that Arthur was rather protective of his only daughter, as he should be. Harry just had to try his best to ignore Arthur’s poignant stares of disapproval and dislike, hoping that one-day, he’d be completely forgiven.

When Mr. and Mrs. Weasley finally left that night, it was just after ten. Jetlagged and exhausted from the long day, Harry decided he should probably go to bed. He wanted to be well-rested for tomorrow, when he would find Ginny and beg her to listen to him. Hermione insisted that Harry stay over and she turned the sofa into a bed with a wave of her wand.

Hermione had brought Harry’s suitcase over and after changing into faded pajama pants, Harry climbed into bed. He immediately closed his eyes and sighed into the silence. Alone in the dark, his mind began to run through his extensive to-do list. The first items on this seemingly impossible list were to talk to Ginny and to meet with James, but there were many, many other things to consider.

Getting a wand, going to his house, maybe getting some wizard robes, and visiting platform 9 ¾ seemed all very important. He was sure he had other friends to track down and many other people to meet. He also needed to go to St. Mungo’s, meet the other Weasleys and hopefully take a trip to Hogwarts, where he’d spent six very significant years of his life.

Harry rolled over, his head swimming as he tried to mentally fit all these things into the next couple of days. The minutes ticked by and Harry began to drift off into sleep, his lids heavy. Footsteps creaked overhead and outside, the leaves of nearby trees rustled in the wind, but other than these soft noises the house was silence.

So when the fireplace blazed to life with green flames, Harry nearly tumbled out of bed in shock. He jerked to a sitting position, his heart beating wildly somewhere in the vicinity of his throat as a figure stepped out and peered around.

“Harry?”

Harry relaxed and turned to put his feet on the floor, breathing a sigh of relief. “Ginny, you scared me!”

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I’d just gone to bed,” he replied, squinting in the darkness as she moved to stand by his bed. He felt a little subconscious, even in the dark, to be sitting shirtless only a few feet away from his wife. He watched her warily, wondering why she’d come back here and what she wanted to talk about.

“Is it okay if we talk?” She asked in a hopeful voice.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Of course.” He stood and went to get a shirt from his suitcase. He didn’t really care about being shirtless, but as he desperately wanted Ginny to respect him, he wanted to be fully dressed for this conversation.

Ginny was already back at the fireplace. “We’ll go back to my place so we don’t wake Ron and Hermione.”

Harry followed her, tugging a green T-shirt over his head. Ginny handed him some Floo powder and gave him the address. She disappeared in a whirl of green flames and Harry quickly followed. When his feet hit the grate, he found himself a very cozy living room. The walls were filled with photographs for the most part. On the far right wall was a very large framed image of a golden talon on a green canvas, and the words HOLYHEAD HARPIES below it.

“I know it’s late… but I wanted to talk and I didn’t want to wait until morning,” said Ginny. Her mouth fell open as she stared at him, wide-eyed. “What the hell happened to your face?”

Harry reached up to touch his still-swollen cheek. Molly Weasley had managed to cure most of it, but he knew it was still a tad purple. “Ron…” he said by way of explanation.

“Oh,” Ginny said, blinking in confusion, but she let the subject drop.

Harry took his eyes off the image and offered Ginny a friendly smile. “No, it’s okay. I wanted to talk, too.”

Ginny wordlessly gestured that he should sit on the sofa and Harry did so, feeling very glad that Ginny had wanted to talk to him so badly. He didn’t care if he was exhausted tomorrow; if she wanted to talk all night, he would do it, jetlagged be damned.

Ginny was looking at him funny, but not saying anything. Harry pretended not to notice her eyes on him, so he forced himself to look around.

“Your house is nice,” Harry complimented.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice catching as she crossed her legs and pointed vaguely at him. “That shirt… I bought that for you.”

Harry glanced from his shirt and back to Ginny, surprised. “Really?”

She nodded quickly, her lips pursed. “I didn’t think you took much with you when you left… I guess it would make sense to bring your muggle clothes.”

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat, unsure of what to say to break this awkward silence. He thought Ginny might be ready to tear up to see him wearing a shirt that she had bought him so many years ago. If she started to cry, Harry wasn’t sure what he would do. He barely knew what to do when Sam cried; comforting Ginny was even more foreign to him.

“I figured we should talk,” Ginny suddenly said, sitting up a little straighter and taking a deep breath.

“First, I wanted to say that I’m sorry for storming off on you. That was immature and unnecessary…” she took another breath, holding his gaze determinedly. “I just want you to know that I realize I can’t blame you for leaving, but it’s difficult for me to remember that when I’m around you. I look at you and I just have this flood of emotions and memories…” she shook her head darkly and trailed off, unable or unwilling to finish that sentence.

Harry was about to open his mouth to tell her that he understood, but she interrupted him. “Anyway, the second I came home, I realized I was being stupid. But I’ve had time to calm down and I’m going to try to do better–for James. I want him to know you.” She paused for the briefest of seconds before adding, “And I want you to know him.”

Hearing this made Harry feel so relieved that he felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. Ginny wanted James to meet him and get to know him–this was the best news he’d heard all day.

“Thank you,” Harry said quickly. “I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Ginny smiled, but it looked a little pained. “Anyway, I brought you here so we can talk a bit. If this is going to work, we need to–I need to–learn to be civil. But to be civil…there’s something I need to know.”

“Okay,” he agreed, willing to be complacent with her. That was, as along as he wasn’t going to be restricted from James. He was ready to agree to almost anything she said, if it meant he could be around James.

“And for the record, I am sorry for how I acted, too. You’ve had four years to think one way about why I left. But I really am going to be here for James–if you don’t believe anything else I say, you can believe that.”

“If you’re anything like who you used to be, I can believe it,” Ginny said, smiling slightly. “And you do seem like the old you.”

This surprised Harry. Did she really see traits of who he used to be? The idea that he was similar to his past self was a nice one because it meant that he didn’t have to try to be someone else. He wanted to ask her what it was she thought was the same, but decided he’d ask later.

Ginny took a breath and folded her hands in her lap. “The reason I’m a little hesitant about you meeting James is because I don’t want him to get hurt. He’s young and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea about suddenly having you in his life.”

“What do you mean by the wrong idea?” Harry asked slowly, a little offended that Ginny seemed honestly concerned about letting him in.

Ginny wasn’t phased by his tone. She looked him straight in the eye as she said, “James deserves to have stability and I’ve worked really, really hard to make sure he has that.”

“Ginny, I swear, all I want is to meet him and spend a little time with him…”

“Harry, I want you to promise me that no matter what happens in the future, you will be around for him. Scheduled visits every week and that you’ll spend time with him. If you’re going to be in James’ life, he needs you to be a father all the time, not just when you have time or when it’s convenient.”

“Of course I will!” Harry exclaimed, definitely hurt now. “What makes you think I would just be there when it’s convenient?”

“Harry, you have a whole other life now. I’m asking you to promise so that you’ll still be in his life even if you return to New York. What if you get married? What if you have a family?” Ginny pressed calmly. “If one day you’ve got your own family, I want to know that James will still be a priority. I don’t ever want him to feel unloved or unwanted. I want him to know that his father loves him and would drop everything for him.”

“I promise!” Harry said firmly.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” Ginny replied gently. “Or offended you,” she added, regarding his expression. “With James, I just have to ask for an all or nothing.”

Harry took a moment to respond, staring at her in disbelief. Part of him was offended and he wanted to tell her that she shouldn’t expect him to disappoint his son, but the other part was remembering how afraid of him she had been back at the Leaky Cauldron. He knew that whatever he had said or done when he’d walked out the door had really hurt her. She was being cautious because of how he had acted. Moreover, she was being this cautious because she was protecting her son, and Harry respected the hell out of that.

“I understand. And I’m all in,” he told her.

Ginny smiled, pleased. “Thank you. I told James you’re back and that you want to meet him,” Ginny continued, relaxing a little. “I told him that you’d be here tomorrow morning and he seemed excited.”

“Is he?” Harry forgot about feeling offended, distracted by the fact that his son was excited to meet him. “What did he say?”

“Not much, but I could tell it was on his mind all evening. His face lit up and he asked a bunch of questions about you.”

Suddenly Harry felt rather nervous. “What sorts of questions?” If James was going to ask the really hard ones, he might need more time to prepare the hard answers. What if James asked why they weren’t a family? What if James asked why he had forgotten his family?

“Just about who you are and what sorts of things you like,” Ginny said with a shrug. “Easy kid-questions. It’s not like you’re a totally new person in his life. He’s seen pictures of you so he knows what you look like and he knows your story…”

“My story?”

“Yeah, the one every kid hears growing up–about how you defeated Voldemort when you were just a baby. He also knows how you beat him for good when you were seventeen, but that’s a newer heroic bedtime story for kids these days.” She paused, her expression suddenly softening. “I never kept that stuff away from James–I wanted him to know that his father is a hero.”

Harry didn’t know what to say. He could tell that she meant it–calling him a hero. Harry still couldn’t accept that all these stories about him were true, but he felt incredibly happy and relieved to hear that Ginny hadn’t lied about him or anything.

Although Harry wasn’t sure he was ready to hear Ginny’s account of the day he had left, he did feel it was important to hear the story that James knew. This way, he would be prepared for any questions that might come up. “Can I ask what you did tell him about why I haven’t been around?”

“Well, I told him you loved going on adventures and he knows you were an Auror. And so I told him you went on another adventure to be brave and to explore the world–maybe fight some bad guys.” Ginny smiled slightly at the ‘bad guys’ part. “James heard all about your adventures from when you were a kid, so it was an easy story to tell. The stories of The-Boy-Who-Lived are legend… James loves to believe that you left to keep being a hero.”

Harry looked at Ginny for a long moment, trying to figure out how he’d gotten so lucky with her. She’d turned a terrible story of abandonment, dark magic and memory loss into one that turned him into the hero of a story, instead of the villain. Ginny could have told James many things and yet she’d opted for a white lie that would keep him from thinking his father was a deadbeat.

Ginny smiled sadly at him. “I guess I’m lucky you came back when you did. His questions would get a lot harder as he got older.”

Harry regarded her, admiring her strength and good heart. “I’m sorry it took so long,” Harry blurted. “For me to remember you…”

She gave him a funny look before saying, “I thought you don’t remember me?”

Harry debated only for a moment whether he should tell Ginny about the dream that had brought him here. But then he decided that perhaps if she knew that it was the memory of Ginny that had broken through the rest, then she might be more inclined to let him into her life and into James’ life.

“I had a dream and you were in it–it was my memory of you that got me to London.”

Ginny had gone very still and her eyes seemed overly bright in the dim lighting of the living room. “What?” She whispered, looking startled and something else–did she look afraid?

“I was dreaming about a train station; we were at platform number 9 ¾. You were there, boarding a train. When you left on the train, I felt…” Harry broke off, unwilling to admit how anguished he’d felt at her loss. “And when I woke up, I knew I had to find you.”

Harry didn’t miss the fact that her eyes were shining with unshed tears. Ginny hastily wiped them away and when she spoke, she sounded like she was fighting to keep her voice calm. “Well, hopefully we’ll get this all sorted out tomorrow. I’ve booked you an appointment at St. Mungo’s at two,” she told him, avoiding his gaze as she struggled to control herself.

Harry got the message that Ginny did not want to talk about that dream, though he did not regret bringing it up. It had made her uncomfortable, but at least now she knew that his subconscious had wanted to come back to her and to their family.

Sensing the discomfort in the room, Harry feared being told to leave, but he wasn’t ready to go, not when he and Ginny had barely made progress in building trust between them. Wanting to keep her talking, he asked her to tell him about James.

His ploy worked as Ginny began animatedly sharing every fact and memory that she could think of. Harry tried to focus on memorizing everything, determined to know James before he met him. The more Ginny talked about their son, the more she began to relax and even smile.

And the more questions that Harry asked, the more pleased Ginny became. He supposed that his questions were confirmation of his interest in James, but for Harry, these questions were as vital as breathing.

After nearly an hour, Ginny had reverted back to the warm person he’d gotten a glimpse of back at the Leaky Cauldron. As she talked, Harry realized just how grateful he was that at least James had always had Ginny. Harry had never seen her with his son, but he could tell that James was her whole world. Ginny was hardworking, caring and a loving mother.

And now that he had promised he would be here, Ginny seemed comfortable being around him, and this made him happy. She smiled and laughed and chatted like they’d always been good friends. It was startling how natural he felt talking to her now. The more Harry thought about it, the more his relationship with this woman made sense in his mind.

From what he knew, Ginny had been by his side as he had lived through a rather traumatic and dark past. Moreover, Ginny had gone through her own trials. They probably understood each other and Harry imagined that given what his life had been, he must have found sanctuary with her.

As he laughed at a story, he realized there was no doubt in his mind that he could have been deeply in love with this woman.

When Ginny realized it was nearly two-thirty, she laughed and told him that he should probably go get some sleep before tomorrow.

“I could stay up all night and talk about him,” Harry disagreed, but he stood to leave. “It’s so strange to feel this way–to feel so strongly about someone I don’t know.”

“It’s because he’s your son,” Ginny explained gently. “Some part of you already knows him and has missed him.”

“All of me is missing him,” he corrected her with a sad smile.

Ginny smiled back, their eyes locking for a long moment. Harry was just thinking that she had the most beautiful brown eyes when she averted her gaze and moved to pick up a glass jar of powder off the mantel.

“Does nine work for you?” She asked.

“That’s perfect,” Harry agreed. “Thank you, Ginny.”

When she again met his eyes, a pretty pink blush filled her cheeks. “Thank you for wanting this,” she murmured.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said cheerfully, taking a pinch of powder.

“See you tomorrow,” Ginny agreed.

Harry reappeared in Ron and Hermione’s living room, amazed at how well this day had ended. He glanced backward at the brick wall of the fireplace, almost expecting to see Ginny’s living room behind him. This was good. He felt good about this. He could make this work–he WOULD make this work.

He was certain that he would make Ginny trust him again and that it wouldn’t take much. She seemed to still like the parts of him that came naturally and with any luck, they could have an arrangement worked out to share James. Maybe one day, they would even visit each other like good, reconciled friends should.
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