The bus came to a squeaking stop. It was a normal muggle bus, crowded with mostly older people, who mumbled complaints about the driving abilities of the driver and the delayed bus schedule into their bags. Simultaneously they educated handkerchiefs and honey sweets about the decline of society.
At the next stop a young, Greek looking, woman boarded with a perambulator, heaving the vehicle through the middle door with some difficulty and cherry red cheeks.
Harry just stood up to help out, when she managed on her own and pushed her baby in the designated area, grumbling under her breath, too, about the decline of society and glaring at the staring passengers near her.
Settled again, Harry picked his book back up and continued to read in the colourful tome Hermione gave him for his birthday.
Unfortunately it wasn't 'Hogwarts: A History'. He read that one already, after an episode of immense post war and thus post Hogwarts homesickness. Harry finally decided to honour his memories by indulging Hermione without telling her.
Harry flattered himself by assuming she gave up on the notion to force that particular knowledge on Ron and Harry, because of their stuborness, and, due to her weird logic, she just skipped to a different field of ken: the Ministry of Magic.
This time Harry had received an autobiography written by a former Minister of Magic and also former head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports: Joachim Thunderhad.
Harry wanted to read at least the first chapters, because he expected his knowledgeable friend to ask about it during the visit. While deciding that the narrator, who in his youth had been a former chaser for the English Quidditch team, had also been a self-absorbed and rather good looking prick, Harry looked forward to frolic with the toddlers of the Weasley family. The topics might seem too far away to be associated, but Harry wasn't as surprised as he should have been to identify Thunderhad as a big noisy, though talented, child, that happened to be able to become the head of the ministry due to his popularity. The differences between Thunderhead and any other child were his height, the augmented hair growth and Harry's inevitable shudder at the image of playing GoFish with the ancient guy of 109, using biscuits as rewards. Though he admitted that Thunderhad would probably love that.
His mind is dragged easily to the gang of trouble-makers. Ron's gentle Rose, Bill's princess Victoire, George's mischievous Fred and of course, Teddy, who seemed to apply his current character to his outer appearance and vice versa, the oldest participant and sachem of their screaming rampages.
Andromeda had smiled pleasantly at him, when he offered to take Teddy in. At her refusal Harry had felt quite offended, but on the other hand he had nodded in understanding, when she had told him about "slaying a dark lord didn't make a good parent" and "you are too young to apply your schedule to a child". All valid excuses for her to keep her grandchild close, without having to tell Harry directly that she wanted to keep Teddy.
The gain of the very polite demeaning of his character, was the opportunity to tease her about big, pure-blood hearts. As expected he earned disdainful looks and sometimes even a cold stare with a twitching lip, which reminded him of Malfoy at his best times, when he was surrounded by his cronies making fun of Harry. The glorious ages of a lifetime Harry felt he had left centuries ago, instead of just a few years.
Rose turned two. Ron and Hermione held a party for her and the family at their home in the outskirts of Bristol. It was a really nice day, too.
He glanced at the huge white rabbit he bought as a present for Rose and didn't bother to wrap due to the 50 cm height. Instead he put a red ribbon on it.
It had been quite the mission to get just the right rabbit by visiting about twenty different shops in London, but in the end Harry was content with his choice. Hermione held a strict "no magic" rule concerning toys, that was heartily ignored by George with a juke box rattle for her first birthday, which switched to any song in the magical top ten chart list, if shaken. Unfortunately Rose noticed pretty early, the shift in attention towards her every time the rattle played 'Oh My Chosen One' by Celestina Warbeck, an exceptionally embarrassing song about Harry without a direct hint on his person and thus lawfully 'unappealable' ("pick me, pick me to pick you, pick me, pick me to pick you").
Harry squirmed in expectation to see his friends and family again. Since 8 am Harry had managed to be overly excited. Pacing through the rooms, changing the colouring of the rabbit's ribbon fifteen times (the level of obnoxiousness showed at the maximum of seven colours including black and white that Harry is aware of) and glancing every five minutes on his watch, Harry almost had driven himself mad.
Faced with the upcoming family gathering he had felt the loneliness of Grimmault Place silently screaming at him from every ancient family heirloom's surface. The place was pure-bloodily huge and embarrassingly dusty in some areas. He only used the kitchen, living room, the bathroom next to his bedroom and the bedroom itself, leaving too many rooms uninhabited. But he didn't move away to a smaller flat, feeling nearer to Sirius, by staying in the house they had lived in together, if only for a little time.
Harry knew that his clinging to the past was somewhat alarming, especially to his more motherly friends, like Hermione and especially Molly. But after the end of the war he noticed, that he lost his interest in his future and resigned to watch others going about with their lives.
Ginny had married Dean a year ago and Ron and Hermione had established their own lives, There had been only the spot of the crazy uncle left (well the secluded crazy uncle; you can't beat George at being crazy).
Nevertheless crazy, secluded uncles only showed up once in a while. Harry would take pride in full-filling that role, until he found a different path to take.
After lunch he couldn't stay at Grimmauld Place any longer and had gone out, hoping he could waste some time until two o'clock. He had apparated to Bristol to spend some time looking at shop windows, but instead he walked one time around a stinky lake in a park. Musing and listening to the faint traffic around him, he finally had had the idea to use muggle public transportation to Ron and Hermione.
He had looked up the bus route, which killed some time, and now was seated in a white and blue bus with a very ordinarily risky bus driver, ticket in hand and white rabbit on the seat next to him.
Harry observed how the dark haired lady walked to the front to get a ticket and quickly averted his gaze when he noticed himself staring too much.
The green eyes shifted back to the front when the voices of the impulsive mother and strained driver rose to a volume that made it very easy to follow their conversation. Well, more like heated argument.
The mother waggled with a fifty pound banknote, while the bus driver patiently explained to her, that he wasn't able to give her the change cash-based, but could give her a credit voucher, which she would be able to change back into pounds in the bus company's head quarters.
Throwing her impressive, black, curly hair back she proclaimed to stay in the bus with her baby no matter what and that she didn't care if he would get the police, she wouldn't accept the voucher, though.
Bemused Harry wiggled in his seat and the woman glanced at her finger nails, when the bus driver enquired incredulously, if he really should call the police for this. It was like a soap opera.
After a minute of nervous glancing around by the other passengers a tall blonde man in a well fitted grey suit strode towards the driver's box. Harry couldn't take his eyes from the lean figure, who took a black leather wallet from an inner pocket of his jacket with elegant and ostensible practised movements.
"I'll buy the ticket for her." the soft words travelled through the rows, easily reaching Harry's ears.
Puzzled at the familiar drawl Harry stared at the man, who turned around to give the ticket to the woman, it was none other than Draco Malfoy.