Fate, My Friend, You Say the Strangest Things

"So, I see you and Jamie have met one another," Hermione said, with a nervous smile.

"Yes, he's a very smart boy," Harry said, concentration on the pancake batter. She couldn't read his emotion. "Just a question of who the father is..."

Hermione walked over to Jamie. "Jamie, honey, why don't you go read in your room."

"But Mummy-"

"Now, James Ronald."

Jamie knew she meant business when she called him "James Ronald", and he left the kitchen. Hermione leaned her weight into one of the chairs, afraid she would collapse.

"I was going to tell you..."

"When? Last night when we had sex?" he asked, still not looking at her.

"He is yours, you know. Don't think I was with another man."

"Why would I think that? Well, I was gone for three years, possibly dead, and, you know, you could have had other relationships."

Hermione felt her voice shake. "But I didn't. Jamie is yours Harry."

"Does he even know that? Does he even know who his own father is?" Still, Harry wouldn't look at her.

Hermione knew what she said next would kill him inside. "No."

One little word. One tiny little word that had such impact. Harry stopped cooking and shot her a look.

"Why?"

"He never asked."

"You never even bothered to tell him?"

"The moment never came, Harry!"

Harry didn't say anything. Hermione walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't move it. He just stood there, leaning forward on the counter.

"I'm so sorry, Harry..." she said, quietly, tears rolling down her cheek.

"He asked me if I were his dad."

"What did you say?"

"That I didn't know." Harry sighed. "This is my fault. I should have not been gone for so long. I should have-"

They were interrupted by a pop!, and Ron's voice from the living room. "Oy! Hermione, you up yet?"

"Oh, no."

"I'll Apparate to the bedroom," Harry said. "I don't know if I want to see him yet."

Harry Disapparted, and Hermione went in the living room and found Ron prodding the TV with his finger.

"Ron, what are you doing here?"

"I just wanted- Why are you wearing only a t-shirt?" Then it hit him. "You had someone here last night?"

"Yes, but-"

"And with Jamie in the next room?" Ron demanded. "Wait, so let me get this straight. You won't even try at least a relationship with me, one of your best friends, but you'll sleep with some stranger?"

"It's not like that, Ron!"

Ron's face turned a deep red. "Bloody hell, Hermione, don't give me that shit..."

"Ron, if you would shut up for one second-"

"She didn't sleep with a stranger," someone said behind her. It was Harry, wearing only his jeans since Hermione had his shirt.

Ron's jaw dropped. "Blimey! Harry?"

Harry nodded and looked over at Hermione. "Yeah."

They heard Jamie's door open, and he came out to the living room. "Uncle Ron!" The boy ran to Ron, and Ron picked him up.

"Hey, Little Ron," Ron said, ruffling Jamie's hair.

Harry felt something in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it was the fact that here was his newfound son acting like Ron was his father. Okay, okay, Harry hadn't been home in three years, and Ron had always been around, but still. Harry found himself wanting Jamie to look at him like that.

"Have you met Mummy's friend, Harry?" Jamie asked Ron.

"Yes, yes I have. We were best mates at school."

Hermione took Jamie from Ron. "Jamie, honey, you and I need to talk." She took him to his room and left Ron and Harry alone.

"So, Ron, how-"

Harry was cut off by Ron's fist hitting his mouth. "You bastard," Ron snarled. "Never wrote to her. Never once had any contact with her. Off and gone on holiday, I suppose?"

Harry cupped his mouth, but he was fine. No blood or missing teeth. "Ron, will you let me explain?"

"No, I won't. While you were gone, Hermione raised Jamie on her own. I helped, Mum helped, Ginny helped, but she was alone, Harry. I love her, Harry. I love her more than you could ever know. I was here for her, but she still loved you."

"You're wrong, Ron," Harry said. "I love her. You never loved her. You just wanted her as a trophy, remember? Remember sixth year when you tried to ask her out? You figured as long as you had her, you were better than me. You had something I didn't, but she didn't love you back. Well, you have something now, you arse. You have my son's love. My son."

"You were gone, Harry."

Harry didn't say anything. He didn't know what to say. He sat down on the couch, and if Ron hadn't been standing there, he would have cried.

***

"Jamie, you do know that Harry is your father, right?" Hermione asked him. Jamie was sitting on his bed, and Hermione was kneeling in front of him, hands resting on his shoulders.

"I had a suspicion."

Hermione started to cry. "I'm sorry I never told you about your father, Jamie. Really I am."

"It's okay, Mummy," Jamie said. "Please don't cry."

"No, no, James, I feel like I've wronged you. I never told you about Harry. Never told you that you are a Potter. Never told you that you're named after your grandfather, James Potter, and your father, Harry James."

"You haven't wronged me," Jamie assured her. "I'm not mad or anything, really."

Hermione kissed his forehead and smiled. "I love you, Jamie."

"And I love you, Mummy. Will Daddy stay around?"

Hermione pulled him into a hug. "I hope so, Jamie." She beamed. Jamie had referred to Harry as "Daddy".

Now she had both of them. Harry was home, Jamie liked him. Everything would be all right...right?