Notes & Disclaimers: Harry Potter is property of J.K. Rowling and associates. I own nothing but my own characters. The lyrics at the beginning are from the song "In This Diary" by The Ataris. Jack and Pru Thomas are my own creation. This story is un-betaed, though thoroughly proof-read. Feel free to point out any remaining mistakes. Written for entry in the second fanfic contest at Horcrux TCG.
"Being grown up isn't half as fun as growing up: These are the best days of our lives. The only thing that matters is just following your heart and eventually you'll finally get it right."
Summer vacation was once a foreign concept to Harry Potter. He understood the idea, in abstract, but his summers in Little Whinging had hardly been something to look forward to. They were, more often than not, filled with bouts of extreme boredom and backbreaking chores in the hot sun while the neighbours herded their children away from the "incurably criminal" young man.
He got flashes of the excitement that summer vacation inspired in his classmates when he visited The Burrow. Always bustling with activity, the Weasley home was an oasis in Harry's otherwise dull and unremarkable summer holiday. Even when he was helping Ron and his brothers de-gnome the garden, the work always seemed so much less tedious than his chores at the Dursleys'. Maybe it was the company. Or perhaps, Harry mused, it was the fact that he could take a break for water without getting screamed at.
The summers spent at Order headquarters were so filled with stress and near-silent whispers of death and violence, that returning to Hogwarts seemed like the vacation. Harry doesn't like to talk about those summers, if he can avoid it. He remembers with shame the number of times he lost his temper over nothing while he was staying there. Temper tantrums worthy of a Malfoy, he sometimes recalls them now with a self-effacing grimace.
Harry hardly remembers the summer after Dumbledore's death. Even the sparkling, fantastical memory of Bill and Fleur's wedding carries the taint of war, though he still treasures the memory of Ginny in her bridesmaid dress dancing her way through the reception. The months that followed bled together into one long period of pain, stress, frustration, and fear. Like the summers spent at headquarters, Harry prefers not to think on it. The impact it left on his life is inescapable, though. Ron never completely melded back into the trio, and Harry and Hermione remained closer than he and Ron. He still catches the youngest Weasley son watching him with a glimmer of suspicion when Hermione invites Harry to tea every weekend.
Now, though, summers are something to look forward to. Harry watches Albus and his new friend Scorpius clamber down onto Platform 9 ¾ and can barely suppress his wide grin when his eyes catch the identical green of his younger son. Lily has planted herself firmly on Harry's right, pretending not to be jealous as her brothers bid farewell to their friends and make plans to meet later in the summer for birthday parties and trips to Diagon Alley.
"Next year, Lils." Ginny murmurs from Lily's other side, and Harry can see her smooth Lily's unwieldy red curls out of the corner of his eye. "Just a few more months, and you'll be going, too."
Lily seems mollified with the attention and the reminder, and her small frame relaxes noticeably. Ginny, Harry reflects, is a great mother. All of Molly's nurturing and care tempered by Arthur's laid back approach to parenting have manifested in their only daughter, making her the kind of mother Harry imagines Lily Potter might have been. He shies away from that thought, though, as it brings back memories of the less than blissful last months of their marriage.
After Harry realized, with the help of the family counselor the Potters had starting going to after Lily's birth – the fights over Ginny returning to the world of full-time journalism rather than staying home with the kids finally became too much for the young family – that he was trying to recreate the childhood he might have had, casting Ginny in a Molly Weasley-esque roll to replace his own mother, he hadn't been able to sleep in the same bed as his wife. The marriage had lasted another miraculous six months before Ginny finally announced that she couldn't take it anymore and that the divorce papers could be sent to her office at The Quibbler. After the bitterness had faded, Harry had to agree that they made much better friends.
He was pulled out of his musings by Albus rushing to his side, almost bouncing with excitement.
"Slow down, there, Al," Harry grinned down at his son, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, "You're going to sprain something."
Albus rolled his eyes expressively and let out a, "Daaaaad," in the long-suffering tones of an adolescent. Harry wondered if he were perhaps spending too much time with James and his cousins.
"What's got you so excited, Albie?" Ginny used the childish nickname that, Albus had told her privately before leaving for Hogwarts, only she was allowed to use anymore. His actual words had been, "I don't care if you call me that, Mum. You know, because I don't want you to cry or anything," in a tone that wanted to be nonchalant, but was belied by the anxious glint in his eye. He still needed to be his mum's baby, even while he was a young man to the rest of the world.
"Scorp invited me to his birthday party next weekend!" Albus was back to bouncing. "Can I go, Dad? Please?" Al had learned way back in September that it was best to ask his dad about things regarding his new best friend. Ginny still had a hard time putting the old family feud behind her. (Though not as hard a time as Ron, who had wanted to travel to Hogwarts personally to separate the young Malfoy and Potter boys. Bad enough that his nephew was a Slytherin, he grumbled. The boy doesn't need to be exposed to their sort.) Harry had stared at his oldest friend incredulously, speechless at Ron's near-perfect imitation of Draco's words decades before on their first ride on The Hogwarts Express. Of course, Ron had been shouted down in the politely-termed "discussion" which followed. The Weasleys' ancient grudge against the Malfoys hadn't been able to stand up under the combined force of Hermione's logic and Harry's temper.
Harry glanced at Ginny, who was biting her lip, her brow furrowed in uncertainty. She studied her son's face, remembering for a moment how worried Albus had been in his first letter home. What if the other kids in Slytherin hated him? What if he never made any friends? Was Uncle Ron terribly mad? Was the family going to hate him? After reading that letter, Ginny had been the one Harry and Hermione had been forced to restrain from flooing straight to Hogsmeade to comfort her baby. Instead, she had sent him her love and reassurances in the much more discreet form of a letter and a box of home-baked treats for him to "buy" new friends with. Scorpius had become a devotee of Ginny's ginger newts with the first package and hadn't stopped pestering Albus for more. Ginny had been concerned with the nature of the friendship, until Gregory Goyle, who she had started dating a year after her divorce, had reassured her that that was simply how things were done in Slytherin.
"Of course you can go, Albie." Ginny smiled at her son's excitement. "And you invited Scorpius to your party, didn't you?" Albus nodded distractedly as he turned to race back to where the Malfoys were waiting for his answer. Draco raised his eyes to Harry's, presumably after Albus extended his own invitation. The elder Malfoy nodded, eyes full of guarded friendliness. Harry answered with a nod of his own and a half-smile, before being interrupted by James bounding over, out of breath.
"Mum, Dad," he gasped, pushing his auburn hair out of his eyes, "can Jack and Pru come to Al's party?"
Jack and Pru were actually Jackson and Prudence Thomas, Dean and Luna's twins, and were in James' year in Gryffindor. The three were determined to continue the Potter tradition of mayhem and mischief, shaving years off Headmistress McGonagall's life, as she reminded Harry every time her head appeared in his floo after his son was assigned a detention for some prank or another.
"Of course, Jamie," Harry made a mental note to lock the Marauder's Map in his vault for the weekend of Al's birthday. "Make sure it's okay with Dean and Luna, of course."
James waved off the comment with a grin, rushing back to where his friends were just reuniting with their parents.
"Dean and Luna will probably be glad to get them out of their hair." Ginny said wryly, noting Dean's exasperation from across the platform.
"Dean will, anyway," Harry agreed, "I still think Luna's their supplier or financier. Can't decide which." Luna was smiling in her absent way as Pru and Jack shared one of their exploits, but Harry could see the answering mischief gleaming in her sky blue eyes.
"Busy summer this year." Ginny noted, motioning her sons back to her as Harry secured their trunks and various other luggage. "Won't be much of a vacation for us, I'm afraid."
Harry didn't even try to stifle his anticipatory grin at that. "Our vacation starts in September," he reminded his ex-wife, "until then, we live to serve." Lily's giggle reminded her parents of her presence. "You didn't hear that." Harry ordered, mock-sternly. His daughter's answering grin was nearly identical to his own, and he forced his laugh into a groan as the Thomases joined them, following the youngest Marauders out into King's Cross.
Harry was definitely looking forward to summer vacation these days.
end