Title: Chocolate is Good for the Soul (1/?)

Author: loopyluna3

Rating: M (eventually)

Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Harry/Draco, Ron/Hermione

Warnings: features pudgy!harry, infidelity (between Harry/Ginny not H/D), m/m sex, adult language

Summary: After the war, everyone seems to move on with their lives except for Harry. He turns to the only comfort he finds: Molly's cooking.

A/N: Hello everyone! I've been writing fic on lj and other sites for awhile, but this is the first time I've decided to publish here. For the purpose of this fic, pretend that Harry defeated Voldemort in April of 1998 rather than May. That timeline fits better with my story. Enjoy.

Chocolate is Good For the Soul

"I don't drown my sorrows; I suffocate them with chocolate." -HJP

-O-

June 1998

It had been two months since the Battle of Hogwarts and Harry was getting restless. He had done the honourable thing and attended all the funerals, but each and every funeral was weighing on him, making him feel empty and worthless. People looked up to him now, even more so than before, and worst of all, expected things. Things he couldn't give. Not anymore.

They expected him to give speeches, to offer advice, to be the Saviour. The truth was that he wasn't any of those things. He was still just Harry, not a hero or a saviour. The only thing he wanted was to be left alone.

Especially after Ginny.

Ginny had left him. No, she hadn't broken up with him, not that they were really an item to begin with, but she had been so devastated after losing Fred that she needed to get away. Harry understood even if it broke his heart. When an opportunity came up for her to play Quidditch abroad, she jumped at it. Ginny had always loved Quidditch, and she was quite brilliant at it too. Her love of sports and flying was one of the reasons that Harry had fallen in love with her in the first place. Now, he hated it. Quidditch had taken his Ginny away from him, so he no longer held any interest in the game.

Shortly after her brother's funeral, Ginny enrolled in an international Quidditch camp in Canada and now she was gone. For the entire summer. Ginny would be gone until the end of August, the 27th, and Harry thought he would go mad waiting for her. Yes, she sent him letters twice a week, but it didn't help for him to read about the marvellous time she was having. Not when he was alone and bored out of his mind.

Ron and Hermione had gone on a long holiday together, and even though they had invited him along, the last thing Harry wanted to do was play third wheel to the happy couple. He had spent enough time sleeping in a tent with them and watching them hold hands and give each other moon eyes. Of course, Harry was thrilled for his best friends, ecstatic that they finally got together after all these years, but he missed how it used to be between them. In Harry's eyes, they were no longer a trio, more like a duo with Harry tagging along in the corner. They couldn't even be a foursome anymore since Ginny had left. No, Harry was having the most boring summer of his life, which said a lot since he had a bunch of dreadful summers to choose from.

At first he had locked himself away in Grimmauld Place, avoiding the press, festivities, and well-wishers. But Mrs Weasley had convinced him to move into the Burrow temporarily, so he wouldn't be all alone. He had been reluctant at first, but since he was getting tired of wasting away at Grimmauld Place and eating greasy takeaway, he agreed.

Mrs Weasley had been the only saving grace in his entire summer. She wanted — no — needed to take care of him, to mother him. Harry knew that it was essential for her to keep busy in order to forget that she had lost a son. And he didn't mind in the least. He had always wanted a mother, and after starving in a tent for months, her home cooked meals tasted like five star cuisine.

-O-

"Harry, dear, sit...sit." Mrs Weasley greeted him with a wide smile as Harry entered the kitchen. "I've whipped up a full English for you and some waffles too." She paused for a second and frowned. "That was you who told me you liked them...or was it Ronald?"

Harry laughed and returned Mrs Weasley's warm smile. "I love waffles, Mrs..I mean...Molly. Thank you so much."

Harry sat down at the table and took in all the delicious food. Molly always made enough to feed a small army even though it was only three of them. It didn't matter. Harry was ravenous. Perhaps it was from being starved for those months in hiding or maybe it stemmed from being starved for so many years with the Dursleys. Either way, he couldn't get enough food lately.

"This is soooo good," Harry said, in between bites of syrupy waffles. "They're amazing."

"I'm glad you like them." Mrs Weasley turned that smile on him again. "And there's plenty more. Make sure you eat your fill."

"Yes, Ma'am." Harry dug into his waffles greedily, already on his third after what seemed to him as only a few bites.

"Slow down there though. You don't want to choke."

"Sorry." Harry shrugged. "I guess I'm just hungry."

Molly regarded him closely and then piled three more waffles on his plate.

"That's okay, love. You eat all you want. I'm glad to see you have a nice healthy appetite. A growing boy like you needs it."

Harry shrugged again and kept eating, now starting on the mounds of bacon and fried toast.

-O-

Seven waffles, a plate of bacon, six pieces of toast, four eggs, and two servings of beans later, Harry was stuffed. Beyond stuffed. He could barely move and his stomach was bloated, his belt digging into his swollen gut, painfully so.

"Ugh. I think I overdid it." Harry leant forward and rubbed his stomach. Mrs Weasley sent him a wicked smile and then placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Nonsense," she said, "why don't you just loosen that belt a bit?"

"Okay." Harry loosened his belt and let out a loud sigh of relief. "That is better," Harry said, rubbing his swollen gut.

Harry's stomach was normally flat, completely concave, so it felt strange to have his gut pooch out in front of him. He was surprised that he didn't mind it though. He pushed it out a little further just to see what it would feel like, and then blushed once he realised that Molly was watching him.

"Sorry...I-"

Molly placed a hand on his gut and patted it. "No need to be sorry, love." Her voice was kind and eyes bright. "I'm glad to see that you have your appetite back and are finally putting a little meat on those bones. You were just skin and bones when you first got here."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, not meeting Molly's eyes. "I've always had a fast metabolism, I guess. And I'm just kind of—"

"I know, Harry. You miss Ron and Hermione. And Ginny. But don't worry, love. They'll be back soon, and in the mean time, I'll keep you with treats, yeah?"

"That sounds great, Molly." Harry offered a shy smile.

"Perfect. Then how about a piece of pie?"

"Just one?"

-O-

June 1998

Harry had been staying at the Burrow for more than a month now. He was still bored out of his mind and missed Ginny terribly, but at least he had Molly and Arthur for company. Molly was showing him some household charms and making sure that he had comfort food available at all times. His appetite was still ravenous, and it felt that no matter how much he ate, he was still hungry.

The good news was that Molly always had something for him to eat, and Harry was proud that his trousers were no longer hanging off him. He could keep them up without a belt and could no longer count allof his ribs. He thought that he must have put on a stone since the start of the summer, and Molly couldn't have been more pleased. Harry was happy about it too. During the war, he had lost too much weight, and even though he could still use a few more pounds to be considered 'healthy', he was getting there. Hopefully, Ginny would be happy with him when she came home.

"Harry," Molly called, "why don't you come here and help me with this treacle tart. I need a taste tester."

"Sure Molly," Harry said. "I'll be right there."

-O-

20 August 1998

Harry had been counting down the days for Ginny to come home. Although he sent her weekly letters (he would have sent her daily ones, but he didn't want to seem too desperate), it just wasn't the same. Ginny was having the time of her life over at Quidditch camp. In her letters, she always said she missed him, but part of him didn't believe her. For some reason, Ginny's letters were making Harry anxious. She had been so enthusiastic at first, but lately there was something that she wasn't telling him. He just knew it, and when Harry was anxious, he did what he had been doing all summer—he ate. It seemed that the only place he found comfort was in food, an unconscionable amount of food.

By the end of August, Harry's trousers were becoming uncharacteristically tight. He was concerned when he noticed just how round his arse had grown, especially since he never had an arse before, but Mrs Weasley praised him and assured him that he looked fantastic. And Harry supposed he did.

When no one was watching, like right now, he would check out his arse in the mirror, two little globes actually holding up his jeans. His stomach no longer showed any of his ribs; it was still flat, but now held a softness that Harry had never before felt. Although it looked a bit strange in the mirror, since he had grown accustomed to seeing his ribs and sharp angles, he decided that he didn't mind. The softness was a nice change even if it did mean he was going to need some new trousers.

He finished inspecting himself in the mirror and decided that he was quite pleased. The dark circles under his eyes had disappeared and the hollow cheeks he had seen his entire life had filled out. His green eyes shone brightly behind his glasses, and he decided for the first time that maybe he wasn't that scrawny unlovable freak anymore. He had grown up, and in his own way, he was attractive. Hopefully Ginny would think so too when she came home. He put on his loosest trousers, the only ones that fit, and decided that he should do some shopping. After all, Ginny and Hermione were always telling him that he needed a new wardrobe. With a smile on his face and a loose jumper to hide the tightness of his jeans, he ran down the stairs.

"Harry, dear, before you go, make sure to have a snack. I just took some biscuits out of the oven and some mince pies as well."

"Oh, I really should get—" Harry started to say, but then he realised that his stomach was rumbling and decided that a small snack wouldn't hurt.

-O-

"Excuse me, sir," Harry said in a nervous voice, "could you please help me?"

The blond salesperson, who was standing or more like hiding behind the counter, head stuck in a magazine, looked up at him and smiled.

"Of course," he said, his voice deep and sultry, "do you have a...Potter?"

Harry blanched as he realised who the blond salesperson was. "Mal-foy? You..."

Malfoy narrowed his eyes and scowled. "Yes, Potter. I work here. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, no," Harry blurted out. "I'm sorry. It just caught me off guard. I could use your help if you wouldn't mind." Harry smiled weakly at his former enemy, the best smile he could muster.

Malfoy pursed his lips and regarded him closely. Harry gulped as Malfoy looked him over. He felt uncomfortable being stared at so intently, especially since his small snack had turned into a rather large one. He had eaten almost all the biscuits and half a dozen meat pies; his trousers were digging into his sides and his stomach was bloated and protruding in front of him. He hoped that his shirt was large enough to hide it. The last thing he needed was Malfoy making comments about his gut, especially since he didn't have one. Not really, as it was only overstuffed and bloated from his midday snack.

"You are an expert, after all," Harry added and smiled at Malfoy again, larger this time, desperately praying that it didn't appear too forced.

After a few moments, Malfoy smiled back. He hadn't seen his old rival in months and was surprised by how good he looked. His hair was long, chin length, and much longer than it had been at school. It suited him and made his sharp features appear softer. His grey eyes were framed by long, dark eyelashes. Why the hell am I looking at Malfoy's eyelashes,Harry scolded himself.

"What's your angle, Potter? Why are you being so nice to me?" Malfoy brushed his long fringe out of his eyes and Harry couldn't help but gulp again. Bloody hell...what was going on?

"There's no angle, Malfoy," Harry said, his voice even. "I'm pants at fashion and buying clothes. You were always dressed smartly. And—"

Harry's ears started to burn, but there was nothing to be embarrassed about. After all, he was telling the truth. As much as he disliked Malfoy, the arrogant and haughty git that he was, probably still is, Harry had to admit that the bloke had style.

"And...it's your job. Unless you want me to take my galleons elsewhere." Harry's voice was faint as if he were afraid of Malfoy's reaction and being hexed on the spot.

"Now, now, Potter. No need to be hasty." He looked at Harry's outfit, up and down, and then scrunched his nose distastefully. "I can see that you are in dire need of my assistance, so it would be wrong of me to turn you away. Let's see what I can do to help. Fair enough?"

"Alright," Harry agreed, trying to ignore Malfoy's eyes, which he was certain were resting on his swollen gut.

TBC...

A/N:Thank you for reading and let me know if I should bother continuing this little story or not. I have at least three or four more chapters planned out in my head. Don't worry, I'm very good at updating regularly.

**The quote at the beginning of the story is by an unknown author, so I gave the credit to Harry instead.

-LoopyLuna