*Note: this is one of the few stories I had the forethought to date. It was written in 2005, and I remember at the time, I wrote it because Harry was miserable, and I wanted to give him a future he might enjoy. *
The students at the University in Tokyo had been rather too inquisitive for the week before Christmas, Harry thought, thankful he was no longer being bombarded with questions about defensive poses, dragon eggs, and the various weaknesses of basilisks. These had forced him to catch a later flight and the Muggle taxi driver who had come to greet him at the airport seemed to be half asleep at the wheel. Harry rubbed his tired eyes and grinned to himself. They would all be cross with him for not calling with his arrival details, but he knew everyone would have come to greet him if he had, and Harry was not fond of public spectacles.
"Where'd you say it was? Asked the taxi driver, stifling a tremendous yawn, "Second left on Hampley?"
"Yeah, past the bakery,"
"Ah, right,"
They lapsed back into silence, the taxi driver thinking longingly of warm milk and his bed, and Harry imagining his arrival home at fie thirty in the morning two days before Christmas… he could sneak in and be eating breakfast when the others came down… he could surprise his wife- maybe not such a great idea, he thought, picturing his wife's I'm-pregnant-and-i-haven't-slept-and-where-the-hell-is-the-vegemite expression.
It was good to be back in the country. A week's tutorials in Japan with over eager students at Christmas, when my wife is eight months pregnant is not my idea of a good opportunity, he'd told the Head of Special Investigations.
"You're Britain's leading expert-"
Gah. Harry pushed that conversation out of his mind and concentrated on the Christmas tableaux and fairy lights decorating the windows of the shops and houses lining the road. Two more streets now…
He could wake up Lizzy.. But that would mean waking up the entire household; his two year old daughter was not only very excitable, she was also gifted with an exceptional shrieking talent.
Harry found he was tense in his seat, eyes straining for the first glimpse of the enormous Gothic mansion he had inherited from his late Godfather, Sirius Black.
"Brilliant." Said Harry, as the driver pulled up outside twelve Grimmauld Place, "Thanks mate,"
"No problem," said the taxi driver, "Merry Christmas, and all that,"
"You too," Harry heaved his trunk out of the back seat and dumped it on the snow covered pavement. He rifled through his wallet in search of Muggle money, paid the driver, and turned to survey his house.
He grinned. Someone, very likely his best friend's twin brothers, had completely bedecked the front of the house with decorations. Clearly visible under miles of red and gold tinsel, brightly coloured glowing baubles, fairy lights, candy canes, various kinds of exploding stars, and a smattering of strangely seductive plaster angels, the words Welcome home Harry! Blinked on and off in fluorescent lime green. Harry pushed the little gate open, dragged his trunk up the steps and unlocked the door.
"Merry Christmas, son," said James from his frame in the hall, Lily's snoozing head resting on his shoulder.
"Hey," said Harry, "Good to be home,"
The hallway was filled with the dim multi-coloured glow of the fairy lights, but Harry could see light spilling from beneath the living room door. Someone was up. He deserted his trunk amidst the piles of wellies, boots and other miscellaneous footwear and went to investigate.
"Who- oh goodness! Harry!" Ron's wife pushed hr chair back from the enormous wooden table strewn with a scatter of parchment, quills and leather bound tomes.
"Working at this hour, Hermione?" asked Harry, giving her a hug.
"David kept screaming, so I thought I'd finish that transcription while I got him back to sleep," she said, indicating the little woolen bundle in the bassinet, a chubby cheeked sleeping face just visible from beneath a hand-knitted beanie. A design of tiny crocodiles chased each other around the edge.
Harry grinned.
"I love that this place is full of babies and pregnant women," he said, "The Blacks would be hopping mad if they knew,"
Hermione laughed and ran a hand through her short fluffy brown hair.
"How was your trip?"
"Ghastly," said Harry, "Well, no, the tutorials and conferences were alright, and thank Merlin the Japanese speak good English, but the plane flights were long, they tried to feed me sushi-" he pulled a face "- and I hate going away."
"Yes, I know, Sarah-" her sentence was cut short by a shriek, an Harry was almost knocked over by a flash of brown hair, a green dressing-gown and a tub of vegemite.
"Harry!"
He folded his arms around the enormous bulk that was his wife and their unborn child, and kissed the first thin he came into contact with, which happened to be her arm, followed by her cheek.
"Japan!" she shrieked at him, "Japan! You leave your pregnant wife and two year old- mwah- daughter at Christmas, to go teach people to hex things in Japan! You're a crazy man, Mr Potter-"
"You've got to stop eating this stuff," said Harry, after a particularly salty vegemite kiss. Sarah ignored him and continued ranting.
"-And if you ever even think of doing that ever again, there will be no lemon meringue pie for you, and I'll- mwah- confiscate your broomstick!"
"Ok, ok," said Harry, grinning, hugging her, and trying to ease the vegemite jar out of her hand.
"Uh," she said, and snatched it out of his reach, "I need this."
There were a series of thundering thumps, like something heavy being rolled down the stairs and the door was slung open wth a bang. Ron's large, lanky and sleepily lopsided person staggered into the room.
"H'mione, whather blazes is all this racked- Harry!"
Sarah gave a squeak and leapt out of the way, vegemite jar clutched safe in one hand, soup spoon in the other, as Harry was engulfed in a hearty hug, followed by hair ruffling and back slapping.
"How are you? How was your trip? Sarah's been a nightmare- Fred and George're coming for lunch, and Bill said he'd be here about six. Yeah, he's bringing Fleur-Darling and the Veela Brats- ah, thank God you're back, mate. Say, you don't happen to want to take a bevvy of kids to see a Muggle movie this morning do you? It'll be good; something about a kangaroo getting lost on Boxing day-"
"Six White Boomers," prompted Sarah, reloading her soup spoon with vegemite.
"Yeah, that's the one. Action-packed thriller, so I hear-"
Harry snorted.
"Nice try, Ron, no way in the world I'm taking your lot any place Muggle- Not after what Arthur and Gregory did to that escalator at the mall-"
Ron grinned guiltily.
"Well, it was worth a try. Maybe Charlie'll do it- he's big on Uncling duties…"
"You're a lazy shirker, Ronald Weasley," said Hermione, reshuffling her parchment.
"I know," said Ron, dragging her away from the table and over to the sofa, "Harry, you've got vegemite on your face,"
"Yeah, you really should do something about that," said Sarah, mock-solemn.
"No problem," said Harry, seizing the vegemite jar and stamping it firmly down on a forbidding looking volume entitled BEASTS. "But there will be no vegemite in the bathroom."
Sarah rolled her eyes.
"Fussy, fussy,"
"There's more coconut butter in the second bathroom," said Hermione, "And please try not to wake my parents up."
"Try not to wake anyone up," said Ron, "I have not yet braced myself for the onslaught."
When both Harry and Sarah were cleaned of air travel and vegemite, Harry stole a half hour nap before setting off to face breakfast. Of recent years, mealtimes at twelve Grimmauld Place had become somewhat like battles, with breakfast taking the form of a small siege.
"Good morning, Harry," said Hermione, "Yes, Diana, very good, but you can eat the toast as well as the jam. Why don't you go and sit down…"
At the table, Ron was struggling with five year old twins, Arthur and Gregory, who appeared to have adopted a 'Death to All Breakfast Cereal' policy. Hermione was trying to simultaneously read, eat a croissant, and feed a burbling David mashed up banana. Sarah was waving her wand at the floor, presumably to clean up whatever had been split there. Various owls flapped around hooting and dropping the occasional Christmas card ("Oh look, Paraguay. Who do we know who lives in Paraguay?"). Diana, jam smeared all over her face, was clutching two soggy bits of toast. Alice, a solemn six year old, was pouring milk onto muesli in the bright pink bowl in front of Lizzy. Lizzy's dark hair was sticking up all over her head, her arms were folded, and she wore a distinctly sulky expression. Harry gave her a small wave. The pink bowl went fling, muesli slopped all over Alice, who said "Bother!" and reached for a tea towel, and within seconds, Harry found himself leg-shackled by his own small daughter. She clung to him, vice-like, just below the knees.
"Uncle Harry!" shouted Gregory, or possibly Arthur.
"Larry!" repeated Diana excitedly, flapping her limp toast at him.
"Hey, guys," said Harry, half-heartedly trying to pry his darling daughter from his shins, "Lizzy?"
She didn't reply.
"Lizzy?"
She dug her little fingers into his calves.
"Liz, honey, what's wrong?" Harry shuffled a best he could over to a chair, and sat down. "Lizzy? Daddy's home,"
There was a pause.
"You're a mean Daddy!" she said. She punched him in the kneecap and ran out of the room. Harry blinked.
"I- what-?"
"She missed you," chorused Hermione and Sarah, Hermione not even glancing up from her book. Sarah sighed, hooked her hands under her belly, and waddled out of the kitchen.
"Liz! Lizzy, come back to the kitchen and finish your breakfast- Elizabeth- yes, I know Daddy went away, yes, he's mean… yes, I know, but he's back now, and he's very sorry, just come and eat your breakfast… E-lizabeth! Thank you!"
Sarah returned, Lizzy clinging to her trouser leg, and regarding Harry with mournful eyes.
"She's mad at you," Sarah informed Harry.
"You went away!" Lizzy burst out. As this was the perfect truth, Harry was at a loss as to how to reply.
"Well… I'm back now," he said humbly, "Can I have a hug?"
"No." Said Lizzy, very haughtily, and she scrambled back up onto her chair. "May I have some more milk, please, Mummy?"
Harry was considering whether to continue to plead his case or not, when Diana stuck her head out from under the table. She giggled to indicate how clever she was being and carefully placed one of her bent, slobber-coated pieces of toast on Harry's nee.
"Thank you, Diana," said Harry politely, "Are you sure you don't want this?"
She giggled again and produced from behind her the second piece of toast, which she then began to suck on.
"Lovely," said Harry, as Arthur, or possibly Gregory threw a handful of slightly damp cornflakes at him. This caused Hermione to bookmark her book.
"No." She commanded, "No throwing things at breakfast- uh! No excuses! Apologise to Uncle Harry."
"Sorry Uncle Harry," chimed both boys in chorus.
"Mum," said Alice, as she stood on tiptoe to carefully place her bowl, spoon and cup in the sink, "Where's my story?"
"Living room," said Hermione scraping mashed banana off her shirt, "Ron, could you take David for a while- what've you got there, Diana- oh no- Ron-"
"On to it," said Ron, banana covered baby over one shoulder, badly behaved toast-wielding three year old tucked into the crook of his other elbow.
"Spit it out, Diana," he ordered, "Or there will be no biscuits for you at teatime."
Diana gave a wriggling protest, accompanied by muffled wailing, but, discovering herself held fast by the long arm of her malevolent parent, gave up, and spat out the milk bottle lid.
Harry did not get to make peace with Lizzy until after Hermione's parents had emerged from upstairs and taken Ron and all five children off to see 'Six White Boomers'. Sarah, David and Hermione were sleeping, Ron's older brother Charlie had arrived, and Harry had just finished adding the last of his Christmas presents to the growing pile under the magically enhanced tree when the troops burst in.
"…white boomers! Snow white boomers, racing Santa Claus da da da da DUM!" bellowed the twins, catapulting themselves onto Charlie, who grinned and beat them off with cushions. Mr Granger walked I, silent and exhausted. Mrs Granger was shooing Diana and Lizzy into the living room- no easy task considering they were jumping unsteadily and pausing to scratch their stomachs and prick their ears.
"I'm a Kang-roo!" declared Lizzy, eyes sparkling.
"Oh, are you now?" said Harry, claiming his hug.
"Dad," Alice was saying, "Dad, do you think that really was filmed in Australia?"
"I'm getting a kangaroo for Christmas," announced Gregory, or possibly Arthur as they jumped on the sofa and periodically bashed Charlie with cushions.
"I think I'll just go make tea," said Mr Granger, sidestepping Lizzy, who was trying to teach Harry how to be a kangaroo.
"Hey, Alice! How's it going, Princess?"
"Good thanks, Uncle Charlie- don't you two ever stop?"
"You're right," said one of the twins, "This song..."
"…is getting boring." They exchanged glances.
"Alice the camel has nine humps! Alice the camel-"
"Honestly!
"Boys, cut it out!" yelled Ron above the din, "Diana, take that out of your mouth,"
"S'grasshopper." Said Diana, munching on a piece of curling ribbon.
"You have to use your tail," explained Lizzy
"…waaahhh!" came a wail from upstairs.
"I'd say everyone's awake now" said Harry, "What're we going to do about lunch?"
"Phone for pizza," said Charlie promptly, fishing curling ribbon out of Diana's mouth.
"No need," said a voice fro the doorway, "George has the situation under control. I have enough of mums cooking here to sink a battleship. Now, where are my two proteges?"
"No, George, in the kitchen- oh, hello dears!" said Ron's mum.
"Gramma!" squealed Diana, hastily hopping across the room.
"O Evil One," intoned Gregory and Arthur, kneeling in front of their Uncle George.
"LUNCH TIME!" yelled Sarah, from somewhere in the hall.
"Don't any of you, ever, get involved with a Sicilian woman," said Fred, pulling up a chair at the table, "See this nose here? A couple of hours ago it was bleeding, bruised and broken."