Harry slid the last of the luggage into the back of their automobile. The small, greyish-silver sedan was filled to the brim with mostly his wife's things. He never told Ginny she packed too much. He never told Ginny much of anything like that, as that wasn't his style. He loved his wife more than life itself and the idea of complaining about anything she did never even crossed his mind, not even once. She was his rock. His everything. And how could one complain about that?
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And she never complained about Harry's lack of magic use. They could be traveling by portkey and save an almost four hour drive, but she never said a word. She knew Harry needed stability in his life, to feel grounded in order to not lose control. She just went along with whatever her husband wanted to do when it came to pretty much anything. And besides, she could read her favorite fashion magazines and romance novels as he drove. Ginny was always up for a good romance novel.
Harry had one suitcase. A brown leather mid-sized bag with buckles and straps. It was Ginny's father's, but he had given it to them as a wedding present. The Weasley's weren't filled with riches, as the Malfoys once were, so they always gave only what they had as gifts, rather than buy new. But Harry didn't mind one bit. He loved his suitcase. It was old-fashioned and quaint, just like his neighborhood. And come to think of it, just like the Burrow. He found himself actually looking forward to getting there.
"All ready?" he asked.
"Aye aye captain," Ginny saluted him with her large round sunglasses covering up most of her upper face.
Harry laughed and popped into the driver's seat. Having taken the drop of his potion an hour before, he set his watch to four hours and fifty minutes to take the next dosage. Ginny knew of the potion, and had also set her watch, just in case his failed. When he had told her about it, she cried for the second time that day. Harry loved to make his wife cry out of happiness. It was such a rare occurrence anymore, but he hoped now with this potion it would happen more often. Or just at least the happiness part.
"Buckle your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy ride!" he yelled in his best Jamaican accent.
Ginny laughed at him, even though she had never taken the night bus herself, but had heard many of stories from Harry's adventures before they were even married.
The ride to the Burrow was a quiet one. Harry played the jazz station on the radio on a low level so Ginny could pay attention to her book. She had called her family as they were packing to let them know they were coming. He could hear his mother-in-law squeal like a teenager at a boy band concert over the phone. Ginny had to hold the phone away from her ear so it didn't damage her eardrum.
"Mummy, settle down," she had laughed into the phone. But Molly Weasley was not one to settle down once she got started. She had to run around to all the family member who were there to tell them the good news. Ginny had waited patiently for her to finish and then told her mother she had to finish packing so they could get there before nightfall.
Because that night was when the first festival started. The United States had their Fourth of July celebrations, and Hogsmeade had its First of May Festival. Although the fireworks were saved until the third at Hogwart's for the anniversary celebration, but, in Diagon Alley, they all ran around with sparklers, there was music in the streets, and laughter in the air. Shops and inns stayed open for visitors and each one served free snacks and drinks to make the night even more merry. Enchanted pictures of the deceased in their primes filled each wall. Firecrackers were a constant, making hearing anyone talk nearly impossible, unless you were indoors. All of it was very exhilarating. The frenzy always reminded him of the night of the Quidditch World Cup in 1994, before the Death Eaters showed up. Except there was no chance anymore of evil betraying the night anymore. Instead it was just a celebration, nothing more. The first few years Harry was always looking over his shoulder for trouble. But this eased as time went on and more Death Daters were put to, well, death.
Harry giggled under his breath at the irony.
Ginny yawned. "Mind if I nap the rest of the way? I didn't get much sleep and I need to rest up before the big night."
Harry looked at his beautiful wife, the sun played off her red locks, making her hair look as though it was on fire. Her sweet smile and perfect chin. He was doing this for her. All of it. The potion. The trip. She was worth anything he had to go through, just to make her happy again. "Of course. Can I turn my jazz up a little?"
She smiled. "Of course," she mimicked his response, as she let her seat back a little so she could recline.
Lou Gare filled the car. Harry lost himself in the soulful sounds of the tenor saxophone and for once, he felt like he could understand the music, and not just hear it. Perhaps it was being sober. Perhaps it was the glorious countryside landscape of Wiltshire. But either way, he felt more alive than he had in a very, very long time.
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Four full hours later, they pulled up into the driveway of the Burrow.
Being there again was like visiting an old friend. It was his home away from home. When he was locked in his bedroom, bars on his windows, Ron and his brothers had saved him and the Burrow became his home for the summer. And after the war, he spent a lot of time there, getting to know every creak, every groan again after the rebuild. It was the same, but not. It sounded different. Smelled different. And even some of the tiniest little shapes were different. There was a piece of wood that stuck out of Ron's bedroom ceiling that Harry used to finger when he was bored. It was a small piece, but after the rebuild, it was no longer there. They saw it as a flaw, but he saw it as something familiar, something that was just his. There wasn't much in his life at that point that was just his. But eventually, he got used to the new house. The new smells and sounds and nooks and crannies. And pretty soon that became just like home, too.
It looked the same as it always did, with the shed on the left of the property that was overflowing with rakes and other muggle tools. Everyone knew Arthur had a thing for muggles and their stuff, and ever since Harry and Ginny moved to Privet Drive, Arthur had spent a good amount of time visiting in the early years, scouring the local yard sales for whatever he could pick up. He'd bring his findings back to Harry to ask how to use it. Harry would then draw up diagrams for his father-in-law, on the use of each and every item. Harry had no idea if Arthur had used all the things he bought, but he did know of one piece of muggle equipment that he used quite often.
One year, for Christmas, Harry bought his father-in-law a set of golf clubs. And for the next sixth months, Arthur spent his time outside hitting golf balls, rain, snow, or shine, morning, noon, and night.
Molly wasn't as pleased with the gift as her husband seemed to be. And one day, as if by magic, the clubs had disappeared. And to the day, nobody knew what had really happened to them. There were rumors, like any good mystery, but never an absolute truth. Harry half-wondered if Molly had started some of those rumors herself to take the heat off her, but he could never prove it. Nor would he want to even try. He knew better than to get on Molly's bad side. He could still remember the howler she had sent to Ron their second year at Hogwarts like it was yesterday. Harry had learned right then there that she was a force to be reckoned with.
He stopped the car and looked over at his wife. "Hey Gin, wake up," he gently nudged her.
"Hmmmm?" she mumbled as she slid her glasses off her face.
"We're here," he replied.
But no sooner as he spoke the words, there was a loud slam from the front door.
Harry opened his door and stepped out onto the gravel. And out of nowhere, something tackled him to the ground.
"Hey!" Harry reached up and felt a person on him, but couldn't see them. "Get off!"
He reached up once again and pulled at the air on top of him. The invisibility cloak slid off to reveal a mound of red hair and Ron laughing like a hyena.
"I got him, George! He didn't even see me coming!" Ron roared in laughter.
Harry looked up to see Ron's older brother standing over them.
"Well, get up then, we don't have all day," George held out his hand.
Harry took it and pulled himself up to his feet. George hugged him hard and patted his back.
"So, where the hell you've been, Harry? We haven't seen you in ages!"
Harry felt slightly awkward. It had been ages. Years even. And he really didn't have any explanation. "Just been busy keeping your sister busy," he replied with a wink.
"Aw sick, man! That's my sister you're going on about!" George slapped him on the back.
Ron reached over and ruffled Harry's hair. "If we know Ginny, and we do, she's probably keeping you busy running around buying her fashion magazines."
Ginny smiled and held up her magazines. "You got that right."
George walked over and gave her a kiss on the head. "Hey sis, I didn't think you guys were coming today. I am glad to see ya!"
"Yup, it was Harry's idea to come. He missed you all so much he couldn't bear to be away one more second without you all," Ginny smirked.
They all laughed and started grabbing luggage from the car.
George grabbed the biggest suitcases and stuffed them under his arms. "Jesus Ginny, did you pack your whole house? I know these aren't Harry's, he only carries dad's old case, but you, you own more bags than the probably all of London!"
Ginny stuck her tongue out at him as she grabbed her bathroom bag and few other small ones. "You're lucky I packed light this time."
"Yeah, she left her good magazines at home," Harry smiled. But as he went to grab his bag, he was struck by yet another force, but this time by one that smelled a lot better.
Hermione. She pressed her face into his chest and held him hard. He let go of his case and wrapped his arms around his old friend.
Ginny looked over and smiled. "C'mon, let's get my bags up to my room before some other family shows up and takes my old room. Ginny knew how much Hermione had missed him as Harry had made a rule after his suicide attempt he wouldn't allow any of their friends to come see him. As he healed from his trauma, the drinking set in worse, and he still refused to see them. Hermione hadn't seen Harry in years but that didn't stop her from grilling Ginny about his condition every time she visited.
Ginny loved Hermione like a sister, even if she hadn't been her actual sister-in-law. And she knew that Hermione loved Harry like a brother. The idea of never seeing George for any reason was out of the question. But then again, Ginny didn't give a crap about what her brothers wanted if it interfered with her love for them. Hermione on the other hand wanted to give Harry his space and let him come to her when he was ready. She respected Hermione for that. But at times wondered if maybe Harry would have had more incentive to get better if he knew people were checking up on him.
Harry held her for what seemed like forever. He really did love his old friend. She was one of his very best friends, despite all of the years they'd been apart. To know she married Ron warmed his heart like nothing else. He had missed her so much and hadn't really realized it until that moment. Tears of his dripped into her hair.
"I missed you," he wept into the top of her head.
"I know," she sniffed back, her own tears wetting his shirt. "I've waited too long for this. And now that I have you here," she pushed herself away from him. "I want to slap you!"
Harry was taken aback by her remarks. "What?"
"Harry James Potter, you made me wait for two years to see you! Why? Why did you make me wait for so long?!" She was now screaming, anger written on her face like a bad poem.
He didn't know what to say. He paused to figure out what to say. No matter what he thought up, what excuse he could give her, he knew she'd see right through it. The only thing left was the truth. "You know why." He furrowed his brow, annoyed she made him say it out loud.
"Yes. I do. I always knew. So what where you hiding from me?" Whenever Hermione got angry, her hands always went to her hips.
"Nothing." And whenever Harry was embarrassed or uncomfortable, his hands always went into his pockets.
Hermione turned away from him. "So, you were hiding nothing? That makes no sense. I knew all about what was going on, yet you never let me come to see you? Why?" She whipped around to face him. "WHY?" she yelled in his face.
His patience was wearing thin. "Because."
"WHY?" she repeated just as loudly.
"BECAUSE. I couldn't let you see me that way! I was pathetic and sorry and stupid and ashamed of myself!" He screamed back.
Hermione's face softened. "Oh Harry, I never thought what was going on as you being pathetic."
"Well? I was." Anger still raged in his chest and face. His hands were shaking. He looked at his watch and saw it wasn't time for his potion yet and was relieved.
Hermione flopped onto the ground to sit. "We all are pathetic sometimes in our lives, Harry. It's not just you. But the difference is, I wouldn't shut you out. I would want you there to hold my hand and save me from myself," her words quivered with her sadness.
Harry took a seat next to her. "It wasn't you. I lived my whole childhood in that home being alone. I learned to not put my issues on others. If I hadn't been married to Ginny, we'd probably had broken up. I was so used to being alone, I just didn't know how to ask for help."
She looked up at him. "How can you say that? We've always been a team." A few tears escaped her eyes and made a path down her cheek.
"Yeah, but with the big stuff. Fighting bad guys and trolls and junk like that. Adrenaline stuff. Things that would have gotten us killed had any of us tried to go it alone. But this stuff," he picked up her hand and held it to his heart. "This stuff I don't know how to share. Every birthday was ignored. Everything I felt and thought was shoved off with the flick of a wrist. I had to deal with everything on my own. If I was hurt or sad. If I was lonely. I sometimes can't even connect with Ginny on that level. I am surprised she hasn't divorced my arse yet."
Hermione chortled through her tears. "Me too."
Harry smiled back. She laid her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her.
"You know. You're going to have to learn how to share your feelings with others, Mr. Potter. These Weasleys are a sharing bunch and you might not have a choice this week. One way or another, everything is going to come out, you know that, right?"
Harry took in a deep breath and let it out slowly and closed his eyes for a second before collecting his thoughts. This was exactly what he was afraid of. This is what kept him drinking. The idea of fessing up to everything, to opening up his life for all to scrutinize, this is what he feared most. Not Voldemort. Not dying. But this. And now that he wasn't drinking, how was he going to deal with it all? He reached down and felt the potion pack inside his coat. Then he reached up to the journal in the inside pocket of his coat and traced the outline with his hand. For a split-second, he wanted to jump his car and go home to his bottle of whiskey that was under his desk for emergencies. But just as quickly as the thought came, it disappeared. He knew it must be the potion working its magic because he'd never experienced that quickly of a resolve of wanting his warm elixir before. "Do you think we could keep the conversation light at first? I don't want to be bombarded by all of this the moment I walk in."
"Of course. I'll go in and talk to them while you get the rest of the luggage."
"Thank you, Hermione. I owe you one."
She stood up and smiled at him. "Oh Harry, you owe me so much more than just one. More than you ever know."
He smiled. "That is true." He stood up and went to the car to get the rest.
Hermione wiped her eyes and made her way inside as Harry pulled his bag and two more of his wife's into his arms. He slammed the door shut and started to walk inside.
It felt so good to be home. If he'd have known just how much he'd have come a long time ago. He looked up at the many stories that towered over him and closed his eyes. He was home. He was really home.
Being there again was like visiting an old friend. It was his home away from home. When he was locked in his bedroom, bars on his windows, Ron and his brothers had saved him and the Burrow became his home for the summer. And after the war, he spent a lot of time there, getting to know every creak, every groan again after the rebuild. It was the same, but not. It sounded different. Smelled different. And even some of the tiniest little shapes were different. There was a piece of wood that stuck out of Ron's bedroom ceiling that Harry used to finger when he was bored. It was a small piece, but after the rebuild, it was no longer there. They saw it as a flaw, but he saw it as something familiar, something that was just his. There wasn't much in his life at that point that was just his. But eventually, he got used to the new house. The new smells and sounds and nooks and crannies. And pretty soon that became just like home, too.
It looked the same as it always did, with the shed on the left of the property that was overflowing with rakes and other muggle tools. Everyone knew Arthur had a thing for muggles and their stuff, and ever since Harry and Ginny moved to Privet Drive, Arthur had spent a good amount of time visiting in the early years, scouring the local yard sales for whatever he could pick up. He'd bring his findings back to Harry to ask how to use it. Harry would then draw up diagrams for his father-in-law, on the use of each and every item. Harry had no idea if Arthur had used all the things he bought, but he did know of one piece of muggle equipment that he used quite often.
One year, for Christmas, Harry bought his father-in-law a set of golf clubs. And for the next sixth months, Arthur spent his time outside hitting golf balls, rain, snow, or shine, morning, noon, and night.
Molly wasn't as pleased with the gift as her husband seemed to be. And one day, as if by magic, the clubs had disappeared. And to the day, nobody knew what had really happened to them. There were rumors, like any good mystery, but never an absolute truth. Harry half-wondered if Molly had started some of those rumors herself to take the heat off her, but he could never prove it. Nor would he want to even try. He knew better than to get on Molly's bad side. He could still remember the howler she had sent to Ron their second year at Hogwarts like it was yesterday. Harry had learned right then there that she was a force to be reckoned with.
He stopped the car and looked over at his wife. "Hey Gin, wake up," he gently nudged her.
"Hmmmm?" she mumbled as she slid her glasses off her face.
"We're here," he replied.
But no sooner as he spoke the words, there was a loud slam from the front door.
Harry opened his door and stepped out onto the gravel. And out of nowhere, something tackled him to the ground.
"Hey!" Harry reached up and felt a person on him, but couldn't see them. "Get off!"
He reached up once again and pulled at the air on top of him. The invisibility cloak slid off to reveal a mound of red hair and Ron laughing like a hyena.
"I got him, George! He didn't even see me coming!" Ron roared in laughter.
Harry looked up to see Ron's older brother standing over them.
"Well, get up then, we don't have all day," George held out his hand.
Harry took it and pulled himself up to his feet. George hugged him hard and patted his back.
"So, where the hell you've been, Harry? We haven't seen you in ages!"
Harry felt slightly awkward. It had been ages. Years even. And he really didn't have any explanation. "Just been busy keeping your sister busy," he replied with a wink.
"Aw sick, man! That's my sister you're going on about!" George slapped him on the back.
Ron reached over and ruffled Harry's hair. "If we know Ginny, and we do, she's probably keeping you busy running around buying her fashion magazines."
Ginny smiled and held up her magazines. "You got that right."
George walked over and gave her a kiss on the head. "Hey sis, I didn't think you guys were coming today. I am glad to see ya!"
"Yup, it was Harry's idea to come. He missed you all so much he couldn't bear to be away one more second without you all," Ginny smirked.
They all laughed and started grabbing luggage from the car.
George grabbed the biggest suitcases and stuffed them under his arms. "Jesus Ginny, did you pack your whole house? I know these aren't Harry's, he only carries dad's old case, but you, you own more bags than the probably all of London!"
Ginny stuck her tongue out at him as she grabbed her bathroom bag and few other small ones. "You're lucky I packed light this time."
"Yeah, she left her good magazines at home," Harry smiled. But as he went to grab his bag, he was struck by yet another force, but this time by one that smelled a lot better.
Hermione. She pressed her face into his chest and held him hard. He let go of his case and wrapped his arms around his old friend.
Ginny looked over and smiled. "C'mon, let's get my bags up to my room before some other family shows up and takes my old room. Ginny knew how much Hermione had missed him as Harry had made a rule after his suicide attempt he wouldn't allow any of their friends to come see him. As he healed from his trauma, the drinking set in worse, and he still refused to see them. Hermione hadn't seen Harry in years but that didn't stop her from grilling Ginny about his condition every time she visited.
Ginny loved Hermione like a sister, even if she hadn't been her actual sister-in-law. And she knew that Hermione loved Harry like a brother. The idea of never seeing George for any reason was out of the question. But then again, Ginny didn't give a crap about what her brothers wanted if it interfered with her love for them. Hermione on the other hand wanted to give Harry his space and let him come to her when he was ready. She respected Hermione for that. But at times wondered if maybe Harry would have had more incentive to get better if he knew people were checking up on him.
Harry held her for what seemed like forever. He really did love his old friend. She was one of his very best friends, despite all of the years they'd been apart. To know she married Ron warmed his heart like nothing else. He had missed her so much and hadn't really realized it until that moment. Tears of his dripped into her hair.
"I missed you," he wept into the top of her head.
"I know," she sniffed back, her own tears wetting his shirt. "I've waited too long for this. And now that I have you here," she pushed herself away from him. "I want to slap you!"
Harry was taken aback by her remarks. "What?"
"Harry James Potter, you made me wait for two years to see you! Why? Why did you make me wait for so long?!" She was now screaming, anger written on her face like a bad poem.
He didn't know what to say. He paused to figure out what to say. No matter what he thought up, what excuse he could give her, he knew she'd see right through it. The only thing left was the truth. "You know why." He furrowed his brow, annoyed she made him say it out loud.
"Yes. I do. I always knew. So what where you hiding from me?" Whenever Hermione got angry, her hands always went to her hips.
"Nothing." And whenever Harry was embarrassed or uncomfortable, his hands always went into his pockets.
Hermione turned away from him. "So, you were hiding nothing? That makes no sense. I knew all about what was going on, yet you never let me come to see you? Why?" She whipped around to face him. "WHY?" she yelled in his face.
His patience was wearing thin. "Because."
"WHY?" she repeated just as loudly.
"BECAUSE. I couldn't let you see me that way! I was pathetic and sorry and stupid and ashamed of myself!" He screamed back.
Hermione's face softened. "Oh Harry, I never thought what was going on as you being pathetic."
"Well? I was." Anger still raged in his chest and face. His hands were shaking. He looked at his watch and saw it wasn't time for his potion yet and was relieved.
Hermione flopped onto the ground to sit. "We all are pathetic sometimes in our lives, Harry. It's not just you. But the difference is, I wouldn't shut you out. I would want you there to hold my hand and save me from myself," her words quivered with her sadness.
Harry took a seat next to her. "It wasn't you. I lived my whole childhood in that home being alone. I learned to not put my issues on others. If I hadn't been married to Ginny, we'd probably had broken up. I was so used to being alone, I just didn't know how to ask for help."
She looked up at him. "How can you say that? We've always been a team." A few tears escaped her eyes and made a path down her cheek.
"Yeah, but with the big stuff. Fighting bad guys and trolls and junk like that. Adrenaline stuff. Things that would have gotten us killed had any of us tried to go it alone. But this stuff," he picked up her hand and held it to his heart. "This stuff I don't know how to share. Every birthday was ignored. Everything I felt and thought was shoved off with the flick of a wrist. I had to deal with everything on my own. If I was hurt or sad. If I was lonely. I sometimes can't even connect with Ginny on that level. I am surprised she hasn't divorced my arse yet."
Hermione chortled through her tears. "Me too."
Harry smiled back. She laid her head on his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her.
"You know. You're going to have to learn how to share your feelings with others, Mr. Potter. These Weasleys are a sharing bunch and you might not have a choice this week. One way or another, everything is going to come out, you know that, right?"
Harry took in a deep breath and let it out slowly and closed his eyes for a second before collecting his thoughts. This was exactly what he was afraid of. This is what kept him drinking. The idea of fessing up to everything, to opening up his life for all to scrutinize, this is what he feared most. Not Voldemort. Not dying. But this. And now that he wasn't drinking, how was he going to deal with it all? He reached down and felt the potion pack inside his coat. Then he reached up to the journal in the inside pocket of his coat and traced the outline with his hand. For a split-second, he wanted to jump his car and go home to his bottle of whiskey that was under his desk for emergencies. But just as quickly as the thought came, it disappeared. He knew it must be the potion working its magic because he'd never experienced that quickly of a resolve of wanting his warm elixir before. "Do you think we could keep the conversation light at first? I don't want to be bombarded by all of this the moment I walk in."
"Of course. I'll go in and talk to them while you get the rest of the luggage."
"Thank you, Hermione. I owe you one."
She stood up and smiled at him. "Oh Harry, you owe me so much more than just one. More than you ever know."
He smiled. "That is true." He stood up and went to the car to get the rest.
Hermione wiped her eyes and made her way inside as Harry pulled his bag and two more of his wife's into his arms. He slammed the door shut and started to walk inside.
It felt so good to be home. If he'd have known just how much he'd have come a long time ago. He looked up at the many stories that towered over him and closed his eyes. He was home. He was really home.
