Hermione was a wreck. The Bolivian Ministry had released a statement saying they had recovered four unconscious men from the premises of an old Wizarding school almost a month ago. They had been transferred to St. Mungo's for emergency care. She hadn't let James out of her sight since. She had locked herself and the baby in the flat. She had put up anti-apparition wards and blocked the floo network. She had to build up her strength. She was going to march into the Ministry of Magic and demand to see the Minister. She needed to know what was going on. Harry's name hadn't been mentioned with the men who had been recovered.
From what she knew from the Prophet, they had indeed found the Death Eaters, and duelled with them before they eventually lost. The I.F was taking a lot of heat for sending only five Aurors after twenty death eaters. The Death Eaters had fled, taking Harry with them. The only thing they had recovered of Harry's was his backpack with its contents strewn over the lawn. They had it returned to Hermione, and she locked it in the storage room without looking at a thing.
She deserved to know what was going on with the investigation. She was going to make sure that Harry was going to come home alive. She needed him, James needed him. Finally, she showered, dressed herself in a dignified suit, and sent James to Molly without saying a word to the woman before she dissaparated to the Ministry.
"Mrs. Potter-"
"Any comments?"
"How are you dealing?"
"Was he really captured by Death Eaters?"
"Will You-Know-Who rise again?"
"Is Harry alive?"
Questions were shouted at her as she forcefully pushed the reporters out of her way as she stormed through the security checkpoint, leaving Eric the Security Guard bewildered. He was right not to disturb her; as he knew it was wrong to try and deal with an infuriated woman. She took the stairs instead of the lift before she was in the grand enterance to the Minister of Magic's office. His secretary looked up at her expectantly. Hermione said nothing as she walked past the woman and threw the door wide open, nearly knocking it off it's hinges. Lyon Bates looked up at her and paled instantly.
"Mrs. Potter," he greeted.
"Where is he?" she demanded.
"You need to calm-"
"I WILL NOT CALM DOWN! I DESERVE TO KNOW WHY MY HUSBAND DIDN'T TURN UP!"
"Mrs. Potter, please calm yourself," he said seriously gesturing to the chair in front of his desk.
"Where is he," she repeated in a shaky voice. "It's been almost a month. He's not in St. Mungo's with the rest of them. He's not in Bolivia. I know he didn't take off. Where is he?"
"From what we've accounted from the others," began Bates as Hermione lowered herself into the plush chair in front of his shiny oak desk, "is that Harry was hit with a spell from behind and was instantly taken away. Where, we don't know. But I promise you, Mrs. Potter, we're doing all we can to find him."
Hermione let out a dry sob as she covered her mouth with her hand. "Oh Merlin…" she whimpered. "He promised…"
Bates gave her a sympathetic look.
"This is your fault," she shouted, "he shouldn't have gone! Why couldn't you send someone else?"
"It wasn't my decision," he explained helplessly.
"His son is only seven months old!" She shouted at him, "Harry's birthday's at the end of the month! We were supposed to go on a family vacation…" she whispered as she buried her face in her hands. "I won't let my son grow up without knowing his father," she said in a deadly tone. "I want you to personally guarantee he's found alive."
x-x-x-x-x
Harry helplessly laid his head against the cool stone he had been staring at for what seemed like years. He had no idea where he was. He had woken up in a dungeon with anti-appearation wards and blocks to his wandless magic, hands bound, stripped of his wand. One of the Death eaters came twice a day with stale bread and left him with a bottomless goblet of water. Harry hardly touched any of them, and it was starting to take its toll on him. His health was deteriorating by the day. He didn't bother to speak or shout at them anymore. It was a waste of time. He had destroyed their master, and now they were slowly taking their vengeance on him. Keeping him in a cell somewhere with little to no contact would sooner or later drive him round the bend.
He often wondered why they were holding him. There was absolutely nothing left of Voldemort to try and resurrect him again. No spells, potions or enchantments could bring him back. Harry had personally made sure that was possible in the final battle. The smell of smouldering flesh had haunted him for weeks afterward. He pondered ransom. But what good would a pile of money be to a group of Death Eaters on the run? They must have a motive. If they wanted him dead, they would have done so by now.
Harry shivered as he drew his knees up to his chest as he heard footsteps echoing off the stone passageway. He closed his eyes and tried to picture Hermione's face.
"It's a side of you I've never seen before," commented Bellatrix as the Iron Gate swung open and she walked inside and crouched down in front of him. She placed her hand on his cheek, causing him to recoil. She was as cold as ice. "If only they could see their hero now, pathetic, powerless, at our mercy."
Harry said nothing.
"Do you have any idea where you are, Harry?" she asked in an oily voice, studying his face.
Silence.
"You're in Russia. They still believe you're in Bolivia. Your wife, the mudblood, must be hysterical."
"Don't dare talk about her," said Harry, his voice raspy.
"You have a son now, don't you?" she continued, grinning wickedly. "It seems he'll be growing up just like you. Without a father."
"NO!" Harry shouted, using every ounce of strength he possessed, he lunged forward and tackled her to the ground.
Harry heard remote shouting, and then he was vigorously thrown against the wall and heard a distant cry of "CRUCIO!" The pain was excruciating. His body was weak, atrophied, and couldn't handle it. Another Crucio was fired at him, and he was unable to hold back a scream. His insides were on fire, and it was unbearable. He pleaded for the darkness to come as someone delivered a sharp kick to his ribcage, and soon, his prayers were answered.
x-x-x-x-x
There was shouting. He indistinctly heard it. He didn't mind any longer. He was waiting to welcome his bereavement with open arms. He knew a sack had been placed over his head so he couldn't see. He'd been staring at darkness for weeks. His mouth had been gagged. He hadn't drank or eaten in days. His body was slowly shutting down. He heard something that sounded like his name. Bellatrix had likely come back to taunt him some more. Perhaps it was Lucius again to fire a few more practice curses at him. Or McNair to break a few more of his bones.
He felt hands on his shoulders and desperately wanted to cry out in pain, but he was incapable of making any noise. It hurt him. Someone lifted him off the ground. He waited for the stonewall to come in contact, but it never came. He was becoming delirious. He was sick, and he knew it. He had been swallowing his own bile for days. The shouting was becoming louder. He let out a groan of protest. A rush of cold air hit him hard, and Harry instantly began shaking uncontrollably. Whatever had been covering his eyes had been removed and he cringed as the alluring sun came in contact with his eyes for the first time in weeks.
"Merlin, Harry?" came a vaguely decipherable voice. Harry rolled his eyes upward to the face that was speaking to him. It was a woman, with mousy brown hair and a heart shaped face. "Harry … Merlin…" whispered Tonks as she slowly removed the gag from his mouth and took the bindings off his hands and feet. She felt his forehead. "You need to get to St. Mungo's," she said sympathetically as a band of medi-wizards encircled him. He soon fell into unconsciousness.
x-x-x-x-x
He was warm, comfy, and strangely satisfied. Someone was idly running their fingers through his hair, something he had always taken pleasure in. He must have died. There was no other explanation. Death wasn't that awful, he decided. He was no longer in pain. Wherever he was, he was comfortable, and he didn't have any intention on leaving anytime soon. Slowly he opened his eyes. Wherever he was, it was dark. He fully opened his eyes and glanced around. It was useless. He could hardly see a thing.
He tried to speak, but all that came out was a pathetic, raspy groan. The fingers in his hair had stopped.
"Harry are you awake?" said a soft, comforting voice.
This had to be some sick vision planted in his head.
"Harry?" the voice repeated.
His vision was suddenly blinded as the lights in the room blazed on. He let out another groan and instantly shut his eyes.
"I'll go get his healer," said another voice.
The hand had returned to his hair.
"Harry, love. It's okay."
Harry slowly opened his eyes and looked upward and slowly focused on his wife. Her eyes were bloodshot. He wanted to reach up and touch her face, to make sure she was real, but he didn't possess the energy. He must be in St. Mungo's. Suddenly, everything came flooding back to him. He tore his eyes away from Hermione and gazed frantically around the room, chest heaving.
"Harry, calm down," she whispered, stroking his face lovingly. Her hands were so soft. "No one's going to hurt you. You're safe. I promise. I love you."
"Mrs. Potter, can you step away from your husband?" Came a brisk, female voice.
Hermione reluctantly left his side.
"Can you feel this?" she asked calmly, as she pressed her fingers slowly up his right leg.
He simply nodded.
"And this?" she repeated the same to his left. He nodded again. "Good. There's no paralysis."
Harry stared. That was the least of his worries.
"Your left arm is in a splint. It was broken when you were brought here. We can only mend the bones, but you need to keep them straight in order for them to heal properly. That will be in place for another two weeks. Your midsection is bandaged, as you had several broken ribs. They were repaired easily, and again, you need to keep yourself straight as possible. You've lost an unhealthy amount of weight, and you're being given potions twice a day to help you get back to a healthy body weight for a man of your age and height. I'm sure you've discovered by now that you cannot speak. Don't be alarmed; your throat is incredibly dry. We have iced water here for you. Please don't try to make any sudden movements, as your body has been still for almost three weeks. Your muscles will need to get used to movement again. You will make a full recovery," she explained seriously, and then her expression softened. "You're a very lucky man to be alive, Mr. Potter. I'll be back to check on you soon."
Hermione instantly returned to his side and grasped his hand and smoothed his bangs off his forehead and kissed his scar. "I love you so much," she whispered in his ear. "Do you want water?"
He nodded and attempted to slowly sit up. A jolt of pain shot up his back, causing him to inhale sharply. "Careful," she said calmly as she slowly lifted the cool goblet to his lips. The water glided smoothly down his throat and into his stomach. The dryness he felt instantly left him as she set the glass on the stand by his bed.
"Thank you," he whispered, reaching for her hand.
"Are you feeling okay?" she asked worriedly as she slid onto the bed and carefully curled into his arms.
"I've had better days," he replied softly. "Where's James?"
"He's at home with Alice," she explained as he held her. "Would you like me to go get him?"
Harry shook his head and tightened his grip on her waist.
"I'm not leaving if you don't want me to," she assured him, "You're safe now. They're all gone."
"I'm so sorry," he said finally. "I promised you…"
"It's not your fault, Harry. The I.F isn't too popular right now. Sending five of you against twenty of them wasn't a wise decision on their part… Don't concentrate on any of that. You need to get better so you can come home."
"I'm sorry," he repeated.
"Don't apologise. It's not your fault." She said as she entwined their fingers together.
"How are Henry and Sarah?" he asked finally.
"They're fine. They were quite upset when you were reported missing … they've come here every day to see you. Sarah's drawn you pictures, I've posted them on the board," she explained, pointing to the bulletin board on the wall directly in front of his bed. Harry smiled faintly. "She misses her daddy," she added quietly.
"Ron-"
"Her other father."
"Oh."
"Are you alright with that?"
"Fantastic."
"I shouldn't be making you talk so much … you're using one-worded sentences," said Hermione apologetically.
Harry smiled. "It's okay. My throat just feels raspy…"
"How does everything else feel?"
"Fine as long as I don't move." He paused for a few moments. "Better than what it was."
"They said your body had taken a number of `Crucio's.'"
Harry remained silent.
"They found your wand, I have it at home." She said finally.
He nodded.
"It's okay if you want to go to sleep," said Hermione, kissing the side of his mouth.
"You look tired. Go home … there's dreamless sleep potion in the cabinet in our bathroom," said Harry, "I'll be okay here."
"Are you sure?" she asked worriedly.
"Yes."
"I love you," she whispered, smoothing his bangs off his forehead and kissing his brow before grabbing her coat and quietly left the room.
x-x-x-x-x
Two weeks later, Harry was permitted to return home, under the restrictions that he must report to his healer, Joyce Kennings, once a week for a month. He wasn't allowed to return to work until his ribs and arm were fully healed, and until he was declared in perfect health. This ended up putting him on a three-month leave, with full pay. Ever since he had woken up, Lyon Bates had been sending him owls, and Harry had sent every one of them back, unopened. Soon, he eventually got the message that Harry didn't want anything to do with him at the moment, and the letters stopped coming.
Hermione had brought the children every night after they had dinner while he was still in the hospital. He felt horrible after he first saw James. He had grown so much in the period of time Harry was gone. He wasn't used to Sarah and Henry addressing him as `dad'. It made him feel uncomfortable when they said it around Ron. But Ron had confessed that they had cautiously been calling Lavender `Mum'.
He was grateful for the day he was able to walk out of the hospital. The sun was shining bright. He side-along appearated with Hermione, Healer Kennings had strictly told him it wasn't going to be possible for a while. If he were going to be doing any travelling, he would have to side-along, floo, or travel by car.
To their surprise when they got out of their car, Peter Jennings met Harry and Hermione.
"Mr. And Mrs. Potter," he acknowledged.
"Mr. Jennings."
"Are you getting out of the hospital?" he asked, noticing the medical bracelet on Harry's wrist. He covered it instantly.
"Yes," said Harry hastily. "Bad car accident on my way to work…"
"That would explain why we haven't seen you around for almost two months," he said conversationally. "What is it you do?"
"Part of the division for National Security." He said as Hermione cleared her throat.
"I hate to break this up, but the doctors ordered you rest, Harry…"
"I'm sorry for keeping you, I hope you're better soon," said Jennings before he returned to his gardening. Hermione led her husband inside.
"National Security," she joked once they were in the lift. "That's my favourite yet."
"First thing that came to mind," shrugged Harry.
Hermione smiled and kissed his cheek lovingly before lacing their fingers together. "I'm so happy you're home."
"Me too," he replied before giving her a chaste kiss before they walked into the small corridor and swung open the door to their flat.
"DADDY!" shouted Sarah as she ran through the sitting room and jumped into Harry's arms.
"Careful, Sarah," warned Hermione as she hung up her jacket in the closet, "he's not all better yet."
"Did I hurt you?" Sarah asked immediately.
Harry smiled. "No honey, you didn't. Just don't kick me in the ribs or grab my left arm."
"Okay." She said happily as she tightened her grip on his neck. "I missed you while you were away." She whispered.
"I missed you too." He whispered back, kissing the side of her head and gently ran his fingers through his stepdaughters' hair. "I won't go away for that long ever again, I promise."
"Good. Because you made mummy cry."
"I didn't mean too."
"I know. That's what I told her."
"Good girl." Said Harry, as he let her slid out of his arms.
"Hello, Harry," said Alice. "Glad to see you're well again." Alice was their nanny; she was a plump, middle-aged squib they employed to look after the kids three times a week so Molly could have some much needed time to herself. They had tried a muggle nanny, Marlene, but that didn't work out to well. Harry had to obliviate her and let her go. She swore they were all barking mad and had threatened to call child services on them because of the nonsense Henry and Sarah were supposedly talking about. And then, a friend of Hermione's had told them about Alice. Hermione had met with Alice first, then both Harry and Hermione, then the whole family. Henry and Sarah loved her immediately. She was the only person besides Harry, Hermione, and Molly to get James to stop crying. She was a godsend. Alice had worked for wealthy Wizarding families before, and understood that Harry and Hermione needed privacy. Alice had been with them ever since.
"Thank you, Alice. I hope they didn't give you much trouble," said Harry as he lifted a sleeping James out of her arms. It was the first time he'd held his son since he left.
"They were understandably quiet. But I took them all to Hyde Park the other day. They absolutely loved it. James was fascinated by everything," she laughed.
"I'm glad," he said smiling as the baby stirred awake and looked expectantly up at his father.
"You don't mind me asking what happened, do you? I tried asking Hermione, but she broke into tears… The Prophet didn't even know…"
"I was one of five Aurors sent to Bolivia on order of the I.F to capture rogue Death Eaters … twenty Death Eaters, to be exact. A spell hit me from behind, and they knocked out everyone else and took me to Russia with them. I have no idea where in Russia… I just know I was there for a month before the place got raided by Aurors and they found me half dead," he explained quietly as Henry entered the room.
"Half dead?" he asked Harry. "What's half dead?"
"The plant in the sitting room your mother waters only once a month," he covered quickly as Alice stared at him horrified.
"Oh."
"How are you?" he asked as Harry shifted James in his arm to give the seven-year-old a one-armed hug.
"I've been better, how're you?" he replied, ruffling his bright red hair.
"Good. I'm glad your home. The only other boy in this house can't even walk yet." He said darkly as he poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Harry couldn't help but laugh.
"But he can lift his head, isn't that good enough?" asked Hermione as she entered the kitchen.
"No," replied Henry as he followed Alice into the sitting room, leaving his parents and brother alone.
"They've missed you," said Hermione quietly.
"I've missed them," said Harry as he lifted James into the air and spun him, causing him to squeal with delight.
x-x-x-x-x
Harry uncorked the fourth and final vial of potion and quickly swallowed it. He put the tiny cork back inside of it, and it instantly refilled. Sighing, he placed it carefully in the cabinet above the sink and closed the door and stared at his reflection in the mirror. He looked horrible. There were dark circles under his eyes, revealing that he hadn't slept in days, which he hadn't. He was still unhealthily thin, but he was far better than what he was. Sighing, he turned away from the mirror and raked his fingers through his hair and opened the door to the bathroom and stepped into the dimly lit bedroom. Harry silently peeled off his jeans and t-shirt and quickly dressed in a pair of pyjama pants and a looser shirt. He didn't want her to see the scars that were scattered across his back and chest. Reminders of the curses that had been inflicted on him.
"Are you cold?" Asked Hermione. Harry spun around.
"No, I'm fine," he answered quickly as his took in her barely concealed form. She was dressed in a tiny camisole and knickers.
"Are you sure?" she asked worriedly as she reached for the hem of his shirt. He visibly recoiled.
"Harry…" she whispered, reaching for his hand and laced their fingers together. "Let me see, please…"
"I don't want you to," he replied sharply, pulling away from her.
"I want to," she shot back, as she closed the door to the closet, and turned around to face him. She said nothing as she strode towards him and pushed his grey t-shirt up over his head and threw it to the ground. Her eyebrows narrowed as her fingers lightly traced the barely noticeable mark under his navel. Hermione could feel his eyes on her, but she refused to meet his gaze as she walked around him and ran her fingers agonisingly slow down his back before wrapping her arms around his waist and smoothed his hair off his neck and pressed a kiss to the pulse point. Harry removed her arms from his torso and pulled her into his arms and stared at her. She reached up and gently stroked his smooth cheek with her thumb as he lowered his head towards hers. His chapped lips quickly came in contact with hers, and pulled her body flush against his. Soon, the world faded around them as their tongues came into a familiar dance, something that seemed long forgotten. He pressed her against the wall as she threw her top across the room. He groaned as her bare breasts came in contact with his skin. Hermione forced his trousers and boxers down his legs and he stepped out of them, kicking them out of sight. Harry lifted her off the ground and she wrapped her legs instinctively around his waist and instantly pushed himself inside of her.
x-x-x-x-x
Harry was asleep with his head on her breast. She hadn't been able to sleep. She felt complete, whole again. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Her husband was okay! He was alive and well. She also felt guilty. Harry wasn't supposed to do anything that could drain him of energy. Harry wasn't as strong as he appeared to be; he tired out easily. Here he was, a day out of the hospital, and had just possibly put every ounce of energy he possessed into making love to her. She shouldn't have forced him to show her his scars. She should have respected his wishes, and gone to bed.
Hermione removed her fingers from his hair and sighed. Harry coughed in his sleep before slowly opening his eyes. Yawning, he looked up at her and smiled lazily. He shifted his position and laid his head beside hers on the pillow.
"You okay?" he asked softly, brushing her messy hair out of her face.
"I'm sorry," she said flatly, not meeting his gaze.
"For what?" said Harry, propping his head up on his hand, his elbow sinking into the pillow.
"I shouldn't have made you have sex … your energy…"
To her surprise, Harry laughed. "If anything, Hermione, that gave me more energy. Don't beat yourself up over it, really. Trust me; if I knew I couldn't go on, I would have stopped."
"Are you sure?" she asked as he placed a kiss on her cheek.
"Positive," said Harry reassuringly as she snuggled into his embrace. "Frankly, I'm surprised you wanted to … I look like shit, I don't know how any woman can find this good-looking."
It was her turn to laugh. "You're too dramatic."
"I am not!" he protested. "My eyes have got circles-"
"That are barely noticeable-"
"-My ribs are sticking out-"
"-You've always been too thin anyway-"
"-I'm covered in scars from Crucio-"
"-They'll be gone soon." She interrupted. She forced him on his back and slowly slid her body on top of his. "You fuss over your appearance too much," she whispered as she kissed his neck.
"I never cared before now."
"I know … whether you believe it or not, you've always been very attractive."
Harry let out a half laugh, half groan as her hand slid between their bodies and grasped him.
"I've always noticed it, too," she whispered in his ear as her fingers ran over his tip. "I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't help it…"
Harry bucked his hips against hers.
"I've always thought you were beautiful," he whispered hoarsely, "but Merlin knows Ron would have had my head if I had mentioned it in front of him…"
"You've told me when he wasn't around," she pointed out.
"And I would have loved to have thrown you on a desk and had my way with you when he wasn't around," he said as he ran his hands over her backside.
"I wouldn't have minded."
"I'm sure your boyfriend would have."
"He wouldn't have to know," she replied as he slid inside of her. "Perhaps you and I having an affair would have made you stay."
"It would have made me leave sooner," he admitted as he thrusted in and out of her. "Sleeping with another man's girlfriend … my best mate's girlfriend would have eventually eaten me up inside…"
"What would you have done if I had came to visit you in Australia?" she asked as he spilled his seed inside of her. He collapsed on the bed beside her, breathing erratically on her neck.
"No idea," he responded breathlessly. "Invited you in for tea, I suppose."
"And then?" she asked quietly as he buried his face in her neck.
"Showed you around the city, taken you out to dinner … avoided talking about anything going on here at all costs."
"Why?"
"Because it hurt."
Hermione pressed a gentle kiss to his sweaty forehead as he held on to her. "What if I had come into your room in the middle of the night?"
"I would have made love to you," he admitted. "I would have at any time. I always knew it was wrong. It's not like you would have gone running back to Ron shouting `I made love to Harry!'"
"Do you miss it?" she asked finally.
"Miss what?"
"Australia."
Harry sighed and kissed her lightly. "Sometimes."
"I'm surprised you haven't mentioned going back. You must have had a life there."
"I did," he said quietly. "I was thinking about going back… You, James, Henry, Sarah, and I… It's so beautiful there, it really is…"
"Ron's taking them to Wiltshire with him and Lavender to Lavender's parents," she explained, "maybe you, James, and I can go… We can take the whole brood another time."
"Are you sure?"
"We'll talk in the morning."
x-x-x-x-x
Hermione woke up to a steady knocking sound. Groaning, she buried her face deeper in Harry's chest.
"What's going on?" he asked groggily.
"MUM! DAD! THERE'S SOME MAN AT THE DOOR!" Shouted Henry.
Harry exhaled as she pulled away from him and quickly pulled on her robe as Harry slowly rose from the bed. He visibly cringed as he sat up. Her heart went out to him as she tied the knot at her waist and walked out the door. She ran a hand through her tangled hair as she strode across the dark sitting room. She flicked on the lights and undid the locks on the door. Without glancing through the hole, she swung the door open and stared into the face of Harry's serious looking boss.
"Minister Bates," she said coolly as she stepped aside, allowing him to enter.
"Mrs. Potter," he replied kindly. "Is Harry up for a chat?"
"He was just getting up." She said simply. "I'll let him know you're here. Make yourself at home."
Lyon Bates nodded as he sat down on the over-stuffed leather couch as Hermione disappeared from the room.
She met Harry at the top of the stairs as he emerged from James's room, fully dressed, firmly holding the struggling baby.
"He's hungry," he laughed.
"Lyon Bates is here," she said bluntly.
Harry stared. "You're joking."
"No," she said, taking James from him and smoothed out his thin, messy black hair. "Lets go get you something to eat," she whispered, turning away from her husband and disappeared down the stairs. Harry pulled the sleeve of his sweater over the bandage covering his forearm and slowly descended down the stairs. He cleared his throat as he reached the bottom.
Bates took in his Auror's appearance. Harry without a doubt did look different from the last time he saw him. His sweatshirt and jeans hung on his limp figure, his eyes had barely visible dark circles, and he could see the medical wrap poking out from under his left sleeve. He had obviously tried to cover it. Harry averted his eyes as he slowly entered the sitting room and sat down across from the Minister of Magic.
"Lovely home you have here," said Bates finally.
"Thank you," said Harry simply.
"How are you feeling?"
"As well as to be expected, thank you," he said politely.
"I came here to apologise on behalf of the I.F," he said seriously. "They're paying for all your medical costs, and giving you a three thousand pound medical bonus."
"I don't want it. Tell them to donate it to St. Mungo's," said Harry bitterly. "They could pay for everything in the world for me for the rest of my life and it wouldn't change a thing. I was unwillingly away from my family for nearly two months, in a coma for almost three weeks, because they thought five Aurors could take out twenty highly intelligent Death Eaters. Those were two precious months of my infant son's life I wasn't there for. I was half dead when they found me, Bates. I nearly died because of them. I have three children, two may biologically may not be mine, but it doesn't matter, I love them, I'm their father, and because the I.F can't fucking think-"
"Mr. Bates, I think it's best if you leave," said Hermione seriously as she entered the room and grabbed Harry's arm, silencing him. "The Healers of St. Mungo's strongly agreed that Harry isn't to be put under any stress that could interfere with his recovery."
A glass vase on the shelf behind the Minister exploded. His eyes grew wide and fearful as he stuttered a "good day" to them before quickly exiting their flat. Hermione comfortingly ran her hands up and down his arms as he stared at the closed white door. Henry and Sarah cautiously entered the room.
"Is everything okay?" asked Henry.
"Yes sweetheart. There's puffed rice on the table, we'll join you in a moment," said Hermione confidently.
"Okay mum," said Sarah brightly as she grabbed her brother's hand and pulled him into the kitchen. "MUM! JAMES'S WEARING HIS CEREAL!"
Hermione half smiled as Harry took her in his arms and kissed her head. "I love you," she whispered.
"I know," he replied.
"I understand you're angry, but you can't take it out on the Minister for Magic … or blow up the vase mum gave us for our wedding present," she said softly, causing him to tense.
"I wasn't ready to see him … the anger I've been experiencing for months now… Seeing him just made it worse," Harry explained helplessly. "I don't want to see or speak to anyone from the. I.F. I just want to get better, and get back to work…"
"I know, love." She said as they walked into the kitchen.
x-x-x-x-x
Harry had taken James out for the day. Henry and Sarah were with their father, and Hermione had gone on a well-deserved spa trip with some of the girls they had gone to Hogwarts with. This left Harry alone with their seven-month-old son. He decided to take him to Surrey, as there was some sort of festival going on there. He doubted he would be recognised. The worse that could happen is that he could run into his aunt or uncle. And the chances of that happening were incredibly thin.
A month ago, he had finally been declared to be in perfect health. His bones were mended, he had gained back the necessary weight, and almost all of the scars had disappeared off his torso. Thankfully, he would be returning to his job at the Ministry on September 1st. As much as he liked spending time off work to be home with his family, he was starting to miss the chaos of the Ministry of Magic. He still hadn't accepted any mail from Minister Bates. He had only opened one piece of mail from the I.F, the note simply stating that his request of his medical coverage be donated anonymously to St. Mungo's had been fulfilled. That was the only thing he needed to know and cared about from the I.F.
And so Harry dressed his growing boy in a comfortable pair of trousers and shirt. He placed a ball cap on his head and put on his tiny sneakers. Harry thought they were pointless because James was far too young to walk; Hermione thought they looked adorable. Harry had stated this when Hermione arrived home with them three weeks ago, and quickly learned not to argue with his wife when it came to what she bought for their son to wear. Harry had carefully strapped James comfortably into his car seat and put the diaper bag in the trunk, and drove out of London. He had told Hermione if she needed him he would have his mobile on him.
It was well after noon when Harry paid for an over-priced parking spot on a strip of grass. Harry quickly shoved his car keys in the pocket of his jeans and climbed out of the car. He swung open the backdoor and extracted his son from the backseat. James let of a cry of delight as his father secured him in his arms. Harry smiled as he straightened out the hat on his son's head and closed the door. With his free hand, he drew out his key chain and pressed the button to lock the doors and activate the alarm. He slid the keys back into his pocket and hitched his son securely to his side and lowered his sunglasses over his eyes. Fascinated with his father's sudden change in appearance, James reached up and attempted to snatch the aviators off his fathers face. Harry laughed and took them off and James took them in his chubby hands as Harry entered the grounds. The place was crawling with families. He would blend in easily. Harry stopped and stared at the large map of the grounds. He looked at James expectantly, but found he was still preoccupied with his sunglasses.
Harry smiled as he headed towards the animal barn. With the new sights and sounds, Harry's sunglasses had long been forgotten. He put them back on the top of his head as James watched everything and everyone they passed.
"Your mother would kill me if she knew I took you here without her," he whispered.
Since Hermione was muggleborn, she believed that all of her children should be brought up knowing about both sides. Thus, with Henry and Sarah, were brought up with muggle children's toys, as well as Wizarding ones, and she repeated this process with James. Having being brought up the muggle way himself, Harry agreed with her. And so Hermione came home from work one day with a plastic farmhouse filled with plastic men and animals for their then five-month-old. Harry wasn't around when the farmhouse first came into the child's possession, but he had seen him with it, and appeared to have taken a liking to horses.
As soon as he entered the barn, the smell hit him like a tidal wave. It was definitely something he would have to get used to. Harry scanned the room quickly before approaching a stall containing a broad Arabian mare that was lazily chewing on hay. Harry shifted his son in his arms. "James, look," he said softly. The toddler's eyes visibly lit up as he reached out to touch her. Harry lightly grasped his tiny hand and slowly lowered it to the horse's chestnut mane. "Careful," he whispered, smiling slightly as he heard several twittering women behind him saying, "look how adorable that is." If only they knew whose child they were looking at, thought Harry. James was almost eight months old, and the only photograph that the Daily Prophet managed to get of him was four months ago. They were furious because they hadn't been able to get a picture of his face because Harry had put up the hood on James's jacket over his head and covered everything else with his hand as he briskly walked through Diagon Ally, ignoring the whispers and stares. The only thing they saw of Harry Potters only son was a pair of blue pants, jacket, and booties.
"Harry Potter? Is that you?" said a vaguely recognisable female voice.
Harry looked up to come face to face with an elderly woman. "Mrs. Peters?" he asked cautiously.
"Yes! I'm surprised you remembered." She said happily. Mrs. Peters lived next to the Dursleys. She was constantly talked about on Privet Drive because of the problems she and her husband had with their daughter.
Harry chuckled nervously.
"I was wondering what had happened to you, I haven't seen you since you moved out of Vernon and Petunia's. That was nearly eleven years ago," she continued.
"I left after I turned seventeen, I stayed with a friend from the school … he lived closer to it than my aunt and uncle."
"I never understood why they sent you to St. Brutus's. You were always a polite boy…"
"I smoked," he lied, "vandalised the park … things like that…"
"I see," she said, looking him over. "What is it you do now?"
"I work for National Defence in London," he explained. "I'm head of a team of investigators."
"You've really turned your life around," said Mrs. Peters proudly.
"I guess so."
"Is this your son?"
"Yes. James," he explained looking down at him.
"His eyes are as green as yours," she commented.
"His mother says that constantly," he laughed.
"Married?"
"Married with two step-children," he said happily. "Another boy, he's seven, and a girl, she recently turned five."
"Sounds like you have your hands full."
"We do."
"Have you stopped by the baking tent and visited your aunt?" she asked.
Harry shook his head, "I had no idea she was here. Is Vernon as well?"
"Heavens no. That man wouldn't last ten minutes."
"I see … I should go see her before she leaves…"
"Take care, Harry." She said fondly before exiting the barn.
Harry exhaled as he walked the opposite way. Never in his life had he met a woman who could talk as much as Aggie Peters. He glanced down at James, who appeared to be quite content in his father's arms. Sighing, Harry kissed the top of his tiny head and hugged him to his body. He quickly located the tent Mrs. Peters had told him about. He made his way toward it and lowered his eyes to the ground. There was no turning back now. He looked up as he entered and saw Petunia Dursley chatting cheerfully with a blonde-haired woman. She suddenly stopped talking as she caught sight of her nephew. He saw her eyes fall down to the baby in his arms. Harry looked away uneasily as he entered the tent. He stalled at one of the tables and purchased a loaf of freshly baked bread and muffins, something he knew Hermione would enjoy. Harry kindly thanked the woman and smiled as she admired the baby. Harry straightened up and turned around. Again, he caught Petunia starring at him. Harry boldly made his way towards her.
"Hello Harry," she acknowledged awkwardly.
"Aunt Petunia," he replied. "How are you?"
"I'm doing fine, thank you. Yourself?"
"Never better," he responded.
"Is this…?" she asked, gesturing towards James.
"Yes," he replied, hitching him further up his side. "James."
"May I?" she asked.
Harry hesitated.
"I promise I won't hurt him," she reassured.
Harry carefully handed his aunt her great-nephew. She cooed softly to him as he looked up at her curiously. "I'm sorry if he gets squirmy … he's really jumpy…"
"He's perfect," said Petunia. "How is your fiancé?"
Harry held up his left hand. "We eloped shortly after James was born … We had him when we were on vacation," he explained, "Hermione told me of the plan she had … I'm terribly sorry we didn't tell you … we kept it to ourselves for a while … everything has been so chaotic for the past six months."
"I understand," she said knowingly. "What is his full name?"
"James Noah Potter. He was born on December 6th."
"I see."
There was a pregnant pause between them.
"So … how is everyone?" he asked ineptly.
"Vernon retired this year. Dudley took over at Grunnings," she said fondly.
"Is he married?"
"No."
Harry nodded as he looked at his watch. "I've got to get home for four," he said finally, "Ron's dropping off Henry and Sarah. If you want to have dinner at our house … you're more than welcome."
"Where is it you live?"
"Queens Gate Gardens. Kensington," he explained as he wrote down their address and phone number, along with his mobile number. "It's an entirely normal flat. The only thing odd in it is the people who live there," he laughed as he handed her the paper and carefully took James back into his arms.
"Don't you need a diaper bag?" she asked.
Harry smiled. "He has `special' diapers. A godsend, really. We change them once a day."
Petunia frowned.
"We use regular ones around the house … but if we take him out, we just put him in one of these … so much easier," he explained.
"I see," she said as James squirmed in his father's arms.
"He's getting hungry … I've really got to go, feel free to call any of those numbers. Someone will pick up," he said as he turned to leave.
"Harry?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you," she smiled. Harry was sure it was the first genuine smile she had ever given him.
-->