Greetings. Merci beaucoup pour les revues! Anyhoo, a quick bit of randomosity. When you finish this chapter, you'll still be confused so don't worry. I'm not going to reveal everything in chapter one, or there really wouldn't be any point for my story. Healing doesn't happen overnight, and you most certainly can't take happy pills and swallow your fears in an instant either. It takes time.
Chapter One
There's Always Tomorrow
It wasn't as if he hadn't expected such a reception. After all, he was supposed to be dead. Of course Molly would scream. Of course Arthur would proclaim, "My God Harry, is it really you?" Of course Molly would reach for his face with shaky hands, and faint once she realized that she hadn't lost three of her children during the Second War. There were however, a few things that he hadn't expected.
He hadn't planned to look towards the stairs as he drank the soup that Molly had thrust in his direction once she recovered, hoping that Ron would smell its mouth-watering scent and wander down. Waiting for Molly to call for Ginny to help her with the dishes. Hearing bangs and shouts from the attic as Fred and George invented something that would undoubtedly be a bestseller. He knew that none of those things would happen, and yet he found himself waiting, only to be sourly disappointed when he remembered that they were in the past.
"Fred and George have expanded, you know," Molly sat before him beaming proudly. "They're in France right now for the opening. It's tomorrow."
Harry smiled in return. He'd read in the paper that Fred and George had recently opened a Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes in Paris. There was one in Hogsmeade as well and if he wasn't mistaken, one in Ireland. In the four years since the War, the twins had done nicely for themselves, which is why they weren't home. They were far too busy living their lives, not letting the past dictate their future. Something that Harry was still struggling to do.
Arthur sat beside Molly and watched patiently. Everyone knew that Molly was only making polite conversation because she wasn't one to pry. But sooner or later, the questions would be asked and Harry would have to give them answers. He owed it to them.
"How are Bill and Fleur?" He asked politely.
Molly's eyes twinkled as she thought of her eldest son. "They're doing well. They have a son now."
"Really?" Harry had read articles about Bill and his role in helping the Ministry break several dark curses in the aftermath of the War but he hadn't read a birth announcement. That was something that he wouldn't have missed as Harry read the paper zealously in hopes of hearing news about his friends.
"Oh yes." Molly tapped her wand on the table and immediately, a picture appeared. She pushed it towards Harry. "His name is William and he was born in December."
"December?" Harry whispered faintly. He stared down at the picture of a glowing, but tired-looking Fleur Delacour as she held a baby with strawberry blonde hair and smiled into the camera.
"December 26th." Molly replied.
Harry looked up sharply. Molly's eyes looked sad and Arthur suddenly shifted rather uncomfortably in his seat. He immediately lost his appetite.
"Thanks for the dinner, Mrs. Weasley." He stood.
She jumped up. "You're not leaving already, are you, Harry?"
"I'm not going to disappear again, don't worry." He smiled at her softly.
"Won't you come to lunch tomorrow? With everyone gone, it almost gets lonely around here." Her eyes were pleading.
Harry hated seeing her like this; she was like a mother to him.
"Of course."
She smiled. "Well goodnight then, Harry."
A hug and kiss later, and Harry was tossing Floo Powder into the fireplace. "The Leaky Cauldron."
With that, Harry headed back to his flat in muggle London where he'd spent the past four years hiding away from all things magic, chastizing himself for a night gone wrong.
Still, he thought as he hailed a taxi. There's always tomorrow.
Tomorrow, he'd do better.
*~*
Hermione Granger believed herself to be a rather pragmatic person. She never did things on impulse, but rather thoroughly thought things through. She was always able to account for her actions and she did things slowly, knowing that it was the only way to get through the day with some semblance of sanity. Above all else, practical people didn't allow themselves to easily their cool. But now, as she slipped on a rug and fell on her arse, she couldn't help but let out a scream of frustration.
The source of her anger peeped around the corner and let out a little squeal before hightailing away, laughter following her tiny footsteps.
Sighing, Hermione struggled to get to her feet and marched off behind her daughter, determined to not snatch her up and deliver a slap, which was exactly what she felt like doing.
"Lily Renée Potter quit this instant!"
Hearing the tone of her mother's voice, Lily froze in her tracks and waited to be scooped up. This was a regular occurrence in the Granger household and so it wasn't as if she didn't already know the upcoming speech by heart.
"Honestly, Lily, you really are a handful sometimes!" Hermione bent and picked up the little girl. "Why can't you just be like your sister?"
Lily looked over towards the corner of the bedroom that she shared with her sister and scowled. She may have been three years old, but there was no way that she'd ever aspire to be like her twin. However, her mother chose that moment to yank her pyjama top over head, and so her reply came out muffled.
Despite the fact that they were identical, Lily and Jane didn't have much in common beyond their looks. Having learned to read at the age of two, Jane preferred sitting on in a quiet corner and reading. She didn't always understand what she read, and so always had a dictionary on hand and never turned the page until clarity was achieved. Lily however, was more outgoing. Whether she was giving tea parties in the Queen's honour or dazzling her relatives with her ballet, she made it her personal duty to be the center of attention. For Lily, life was too short to stay still for too long, which was why she gave her mother hell every morning when it came to getting ready.
Hermione told her that she reminded her of the twin's father, a man who was stuck in the pictures that decorated their modest home, someone called Harry Potter. Jane had come across his name a couple of times in her reading and the twins had gathered that when he'd been alive, he was famous in his own right. Knowing that she was like her father made Lily proud, because one day she too hoped to be famous.
The fact that both her daughters had above average intelligence and were mature for their age made Hermione happy, but she knew that it would be the bane of her existence, especially when it came to being the practical person that she'd always set out to be.
"Mummy," Lily said, trying her hardest to keep still as she had her hair combed. "Do you think that maybe I could learn to fly?"
"Fly?" Hermione's heart leapt in her chest. "You're only three years old, Lily. Why on earth do you want to learn to fly?"
"Because I'm like my father and he was a great flyer." Lily said, giving her mother a pitying look. Sometimes, the most obvious of things flew by her.
"Well your father is dead," Hermione replied. "Do you want to be dead as well?"
"I'm not going to die, mum." Lily groaned. They'd also had this talk several times before. It seemed as if everything lead back to, "Do you want to be dead as well?"
She couldn't be taught to climb the apple trees out back because she'd fall and die. She had to return the tricycle that her grandfather bought her for Christmas last year because one day, she'd learn to ride a bicycle, fall and break her neck. She couldn't go with her uncle Charlie to see the dragons because one might get loose (from their high security facilities) and either eat her or burn her to bits with their fiery stouts. There were a million things that since the day Lily Potter was born, she'd been told that she couldn't do.
But sometimes, no matter how mature Lily was for her age, there was one thing that her maturity would never let her understand. Hermione Granger was just as scared for her children's life as the next mother, perhaps in this case, a little bit more. She'd lost her three best friends and her mother during the War so what was to stop the gods from thinking that she could stand losing her babies.
No, for all her practically and logical reasoning, Hermione would never allow herself to not be scared and just live. She'd lock all her doors as soon as she went through them (murderers killed people in broad daylight as well) and she'd forsake that Caribbean cruise (ships sank all the time). All this so her heart would have to break no more.
What Hermione needed was to learn how to start living again. Little did she know that the gods weren't going to take her babies from her, but rather, had so much more in store.
*~*
Molly Weasley could hardly believe it. Harry Potter, her Harry, her son (so what if she never carried him for nine months, she was sure that Lily and James wouldn't mind) was back. Like the dead come back to life, he had walked through her door and was back for good. It was almost too good to be true, she had told herself, but when he showed up for lunch earlier that afternoon, she knew that it wasn't. Miracles did happen after all.
Even though it had been four years since the Second War, there was still a lot of cleaning up to do. A lot of healing.
Today, Arthur didn't mind so much that he'd be visiting Gregory Goyle's house. He didn't feel like vomiting when he thought of the dead bodies that he knew would be waiting in the cellar, decayed and maggot-filled. There were still Death Eaters on the loose and people in the Ministry still worked for them. Slowly but surely, Arthur and his fellow Aurors (he'd been promoted after his work in the War) were getting the warrants needed to search houses and throw them all in Azkaban where they belonged.
The day looked brighter, and the world looked more promising now that Harry had returned. Maybe he really was a hero, his presence alone made people feel safe.
Molly waited all morning, and when one o'clock came, she was ready. Everything that she remembered Harry gobbling down at her table-from the onion soup to the treacle pudding-Molly made. All throughout the meal she watched him, silently trying to read into his thoughts and tell what he was thinking, and when it was over, she got the slightest of rewards.
"Are you mad at me?" Harry asked, eyes begging her to say, `No.'
Even if she had been, she couldn't bear to be the reason why tears would form in his eyes. And so, with a kind smile, she replied, "Of course not dear. A little surprised, but not mad."
"I thought that everyone would be mad at me for what I did." Harry accepted the cup of tea that she offered him. They had retired to the living room after lunch.
"I don't think that anyone would be mad, so much as a little upset that you made them think that you were dead." Molly never lied. "Quite a few people were hurt when you disappeared right after Voldemort. The Ministry did an investigation for about six months before they gave you up for dead. They've turned you into a National Hero, you know. The first ever for the wizarding world."
"I know," Harry whispered quietly. "I've read all of the papers."
Molly couldn't hide her surprise.
"I didn't cut myself off entirely from the wizarding world, you know." Harry smiled faintly at the matriarchal figure. "I just needed some space to think things through."
"I understand dear." Molly reached over and squeezed his hands softly. "Everyone deals with pain in their own way."
Harry nodded. "I think that Dumbledore told me that once."
Silence fell over them as they remembered the great headmaster who'd fallen during the War. To Harry, it seemed as if he lost everyone that he loved. That was part of the reason why he'd waited for so long to return. He was scared that he'd only come back and cause more destruction. He didn't really know why he'd decided to come out of seclusion. He'd just woken up one morning and known that it was time.
"Dumbledore was a very wise man." Molly sipped on her tea.
Harry nodded in concurrence. "The papers never told me that Bill and Fleur had a baby though. What else did I miss?"
Just because he'd decided to reveal himself, didn't mean that he was ready to start pouring out his heart and soul. He wasn't that recovered.
"Well," Molly smiled, glad for a reason to brag about her family. "Arthur got promoted."
"I saw that. I never imagined Mr. Weasley as an Auror."
"It's only until they get everything sorted out." Molly said. "He plans on retiring afterwards."
Harry thought that was a good idea. Mr and Mrs. Weasley weren't getting any younger and now that they're children were out of the house, it was finally time for them to start to unwind. He knew that War heroes had received money from the Ministry, and he figured that with the wages that Arthur was making as an Auror, he'd be able to retired comfortably and maybe even travel a few times if he so decided to before he died.
"Bill wanted him to retire after the War, but Arthur refused to." Molly went on. "Bill's an Unspeakable now. He gave up his job at Gringotts to work for the Ministry and help. Charlie and the twins are the only ones who didn't join in on the effort."
Usually, Molly would say such a thing with a look of disapproval on her face, but Harry could tell that like others, the War had changed her as well. If her sons wanted to do what they loved for a living, then so be it. Life was too short.
"I don't think that the Minister of Magic would like it very much if his seat turned into a rubber duck when he sat on it or if Charlie showed up for work in his leather pants." Harry quipped.
Molly laughed. "No, he wouldn't."
After the War had ended, a lot of wizards had called for Minerva McGonagall, Dumbledore's right hand to be Minister, but she politely turned down the offer, knowing that her place was at Hogwarts as Headmistress. The title had been awarded to Gawain Robards, former Head of Aurors.
"Did Fred ever asked Angelina to marry him?" Harry asked.
Molly nodded. "They wed in March of 1998. George and Alicia married as well. Not to anyone's surprise, they had a double wedding."
Harry most certainly wasn't surprised. He had a feeling that the twins would die on the same day and probably at the same time. He didn't tell this to Mrs. Weasley of course, she'd already lost two children and he didn't want her thinking about losing two more.
"Any children from them?" He asked.
Mrs. Weasley shook her head. "No." She looked a bit wistful. "I'd always imagined a house full of grandchildren. Still, three's enough for now."
"Percy and Penelope?"
Harry had read that they'd married in the past year, not to his surprise, as Penelope was the only person who could ever put up with Percy's cauldron thickness reports. However, he'd never seen Percy as the type who'd ever break protocol. They'd been wed in September of last year, which meant that the children would have had to be born before their parents got married. Fred and George must have given him hell for not being married before they had children.
"Where are you staying, dear?" Molly quickly changed the subject. "If it's the Leaky Cauldron, I'd be happy to offer you one of the spare rooms."
Harry was too deep in thought to notice the sudden change. "Actually, I'm staying in Kennington."
Molly nodded, not asking the questions that were firing away in her mind.
"Well, the invitation is still open."
Harry nodded and for a moment, silence engulfed the room. He was afraid to ask after Hermione, knowing that he'd probably hurt her most with his disappearance. Visions of their last night taunted his mind and he cringed at the way that he'd handled things. He couldn't blame her if she threw him out when he saw her. If he ever got the courage, that was.
"So what have you been doing all these years?" Mrs. Weasley finally asked. "Are you working in Muggle London?"
Harry shook his head. "No. I haven't been working."
"Oh." Mrs. Weasley said.
How could Harry explain that he'd been spending the past four years doing the square root of nothing? He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, forgot how to speak, woke up on Friday when he'd fallen asleep on Sunday, he couldn't function really. He was a piece of mass floating through space, waiting for his saving grace. It was just last year that he started eating on a somewhat regular basis and had been bothered to shower on days when he didn't actually have to go to the grocery store.
"What about you?" He asked. "What have you been doing?"
"Oh you know," Mrs. Weasley began. "It was hard the first year of course, but you've got to move on."
Moving on. That was something that Harry was trying to do and could see that he was still failing miserably at.
"I agree."
He couldn't very well tell her that he was still stuck in the past.
The old grandfather clock struck three and both Harry and Mrs. Weasley looked up. Lunch was over and they knew it. Harry was the first to rise.
"Thank you for lunch, Mrs. Weasley."
Molly smiled in acceptance, wanting to beg him to stay, but knew that she shouldn't. Whatever it was that held Harry back was something that she couldn't help him face.
"My pleasure dear."
A few minutes later, she watched as he left with the promise that he would come to dinner the following Sunday. She didn't know much more than she had before he walked through her door the night before but still, it was a start.
*~*
Harry stepped out of the taxi and stared up at his London Road house. A little girl ran by, squealing happily as her mother chased behind her. He wondered briefly about what it would be like to have someone to come home to and quickly shook the thought from his mind. People like him would never be able to have someone waiting eagerly for his return. He was far too messed up for that and there was no saving a person like him. If anything his trip to Mrs. Weasley taught him that.
She got over the death of her two children in a year. It had been six years since Sirius' death and he still wasn't able to get over it; how was he ever supposed to tackle Ginny and Ron? Dumbledore, Seamus, Mrs. Granger, Madame Pince, or any of the others that he'd seen fall in the War?
No, there was no hope for a person like him at all.
But as he walked through his four-bedroom home with its spacious rooms and large windows that invited light, Harry knew one thing: it would be nice to have someone to share it with.
You didn't contact Mrs. Weasley for nothing, mate, he thought entering his office. You want to be saved.
And maybe he did. But as he reached for the Daily Prophet and read that day's headlines, he most certainly didn't think so. But there was hope yet for Harry; he didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
**~*~*~**~*~*~**
-->