Surprise and Welcome Home

In a cosy little house set far away from the other houses, in a rather unassuming section of the city, nestled amongst the trees, in that little house two people waited for a friend they hadn't seen in over fifteen years. A friend named Harry Potter.

The story of Harry Potter was, obviously, well-followed in the wizarding world. How could it not have been after his defeat of Voldemort over twenty years ago? The papers documented everything; his early admission into the Auror program, his rise through the ranks, but most of all the tragic romance with Ginny Weasley. They were the couple of the age, the face of the Auror department and the young Quidditch star of the Holyhead Harpies. Arm in arm they appeared at charity events, occasionally out at a restaurant before they were mobbed by well-wishers, at Quidditch matches...an issue of any publication didn't seem complete without a photo of Weasley and Potter, and if a new photo was not available one of the old ones was used along with the same story, one the public never tired. When would they get married? When would they have children?

But it never was to be, the 'romance of the ages.' During a match with the Dutch national Quidditch team, a friendly before the official British and Irish League began, a Bludger struck Ginny in the head. With the height and speed she was moving, the impact rendered her unconscious and even with all of the safety precautions it wasn't enough to prevent her fall and death. Her neck was snapped; the inquest of the Healers informed Harry that she never felt it, as the last thing she must have felt was the Bludger, but then only for a split-second.

The public was inconsolable. Molly Weasley somehow, some way, managed to survive, using the grief at losing a second child as a shield. Harry was lost, unable to accept the reality for a while, but when he did come back to the world it was only through the help of his friends, the friends who had been there for him during the darkest days of the Voldemort wars. Little in Britain held any allure for him after that, as he resigned from the Auror department and for a while simply holed up in Grimmauld Place. Eventually, though, his friends Ron and Hermione Weasley convinced him that he couldn't sit in that old house for the rest of his life, and that led to his current situation, one that he'd had for over a decade; a very special consultant that governments and other groups contacted when they had issues that they couldn't address. Dark wizards, curse breaking...he was the wizard that people worldwide turned to when all seemed hopeless; payment was required, but then only ten percent went to Harry, the rest to a charity he designated, and there was no discussion regarding the dispensation of gold once the job was completed.

Hermione Weasley got up from her chair by the fireplace and took out her wand, flicking it about the room, causing items to raise up slightly as imaginary dust was removed. This action caused her husband to look up from the Quidditch magazine and roll his eyes.

"Hermione, it's Harry. He's not going to stop by after all these years and say 'It's so good to see you and in Merlin's name when was the last time you dusted?' Give it a rest, love."

She stopped with her wand mid-flick and glared at him, then her expression softened after a moment. "Oh, I know, I know. It's just...with Rosie's announcement earlier today I don't know what to do with myself. She's just like you, you know."

"What?" Ron sat the magazine down on the table in front of him and sighed. "How is she just like me? Yeah, we both work at the Triple W, but...did I send a letter to Mum and Dad telling them while I was off on assignment for George in Mexico that I got married and oh by the way I'm pregnant? I don't think so."

"Oh, come on, you know what I mean." She gave him a disappointed look. "She's your daughter, that's for sure, and..."

"Hugo's yours, that's obvious, love." Ron stood up and walked over to her, taking her hands in his. "So the boy doesn't like Quidditch and was sorted into Ravenclaw and works in the Ministry as an Unspeakable. No doubt who he takes after. But Rosie..."

"She's the one who's given me all the grey hair." Hermione glanced over Ron's shoulder to the clock on the wall. Harry was late. "Do you think he's actually coming?"

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Maybe he got called in to battle evil pixies in Iceland. You know, giant evil pixies the size of hippogriffs that eat cattle. Maybe they eat politicians; we could do with a few of those." When his wife didn't say anything for a while he pulled her close, enveloping her in his arms. "But you're not really thinking about Harry, are you?"

"No." Her voice was muffled from her face being pressed against his chest. "Is she ready to be a mum? How is she going to do that, working for George, portkeying all over the world to research something in Argentina one day and meeting with suppliers in Russia the next day? And who is this husband of hers? I find it very suspicious she didn't say anything. If it's Scorpius I'm going to..."

"Tell her that it'll all be fine." He stroked her hair, trying to calm her down. "I know they broke it off ages ago, and yeah, he was a little shit about things, but give her a little more credit than that, yeah?"

"The press will have a field day. Can you see it? I can, all over the papers. I had to work hard enough to keep the children out of the papers when they were younger, but now..."

"She's twenty-two, love." His voice was tinged with exasperation, as they'd had parts of this conversation for years. "We were younger than her when we got married."

"Yes, but I'd known you since our first year at Hogwarts. This is different. Knowing our daughter she probably picked him up at a pub. At least he did the decent thing and married her when they found out. Why won't she tell us, Ron? It has to be bad. It's probably a Death Eater."

"A Death Eater?" He laughed. "Sweetie, there haven't been Death Eaters in years. Years. Harry got rid of them all.

"At least she broke off that engagement to that wizard."

Ron was silent on that topic, one he knew better than to comment on, as every time the wizard from Canada was brought up Hermione would go into one of her quiet rages. The bloke was decent enough, had a job in the Canadian International Trade thingy at their government, but he was much older than Rosie and had been married before with three kids. Thankfully it didn't last, but Ron knew that if he said anything she'd be in a foul mood before Harry arrived.

Thankfully, for Ron, he was saved by a knock at the door. "He's here." Breaking apart from his wife he made his way to the door and opened it quickly to find his old friend standing there with an odd look on his face. "Harry, mate. It's been way too long. Come in, come in!"

As soon as Harry made his way in he paused for a moment, and then turned and at the exact same moment realised how much he'd missed his friends. He gave Ron a hug and the two men didn't care if they were now middle-aged, it was good to see him. "It has been way too long." Breaking from the hug he turned to see Hermione waiting for him, a happy face almost on the verge of tears. He held his arms open. "Hermione."

"Oh, Harry!" She went to him and positively engulfed him in a hug, causing him to gasp slightly.

"I'd forgotten about Hermione hugs." He smiled and sighed contentedly. "I've missed those."

"And we've missed you, too, you great idiot!" She held him out at arm's length. "We get your letters, but in all this time you can't stop by to say hello?"

His face couldn't hide the mix of emotions. "It's been hard. This is the first time I've been back to Britain since..."

Her expression softened as well as her voice. "I know. We understand, but...it's so good to see you! And you look like you haven't aged a day!" She took him in, and except for the slight amount of grey at his temples he looked as he always did, except slightly more tanned and weather-beaten, as if he spent great amounts of time out in the elements. "But why in Merlin's name are you all dressed up? You didn't do that just for us, did you?"

Harry looked a bit chagrined as he glanced down at his clothing and then over to his friends. They were dressed casually, in jeans and jumpers, whilst he had on a sharp, grey flannel Muggle suit complete with shirt and tie. "Sorry, uh, just came from a thing. Hope that's ok."

"Are you kidding?" Ron shook his head. "We wouldn't care if you came starkers. Ok, I take that back, that'd be awkward as hell, but you know what I mean."

-ooo-

The meal went by slowly, as conversation was the main course. The three old friends sat around the kitchen table, Harry with his coat off and tie loosened, and several bottles of house elf wine were opened. Hermione took a bit of teasing regarding the house elves, as her legislation granting them more rights had a few unforeseen developments, most notably the creation of wineries run by house elves. Where once the most notable families thought it the height of sophistication to have house elf servants the tables had turned and now, if they could afford it, they served house elf wine at their tables. Hermione, of course, never paid for any of their wine as the thankful elves always brought her complimentary cases. Harry went through his life, telling them of various jobs he'd completed, far-off and exotic locales full of ancient magic and his constant vigilance against evil. He listened as Ron and Hermione recounted events in their lives that he knew, but wouldn't dare interrupt. He knew that Ron had become a partner with George at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, all about their worldwide expansion. He knew that Hermione had a rather illustrious, if controversial, career in the Ministry, working to integrate all those 'non-humans' fully into the wizarding world. He listened as they spoke of the children, but when they brought out the more recent pictures he began to become slightly antsy. When Ron and Hermione weren't looking he put his hands under the table and pressed one of his cuff links.

Five minutes later, when Hermione was recounting a particularly disagreeable conversation she'd held with Draco Malfoy regarding something, there was a knock on the door. Ron looked over to Hermione, shrugged, and excused himself.

Harry reached forward, took his wineglass and emptied it.

"Rosie!" Ron's voice was full of surprise. "Girly, it's good to see you. Come on in, I think there's some left if you're hungry." As she walked in Ron shut the door and mouthed to his wife 'Take it easy.'

As Hermione rushed over to greet her daughter Harry sat at the table, glancing over at the hurriedly abandoned pictures. Hugo was the perfect combination of his parents, Ron's red mixed with Hermione's untamed curls, tall and freckled. Rosie, though, had what Ron called 'the Prewett genes' as she was rather short with straight, chestnut brown hair that gave off hints of red, pale skin and hazel coloured eyes. She was standing next to her brother in the picture, outside the Burrow, the wind mussing her hair slightly so she had to take an arm and move the shoulder length mass out of her face.

"Harry?" He turned to see Hermione standing there with her daughter. "Harry, you haven't seen little Rosie in ages."

He stood up from the table, his eyes meeting Rosie's, and while his heart leapt into his throat she winked at him. "Uh, about that."

"Oh bloody hell." Ron came over to the table, poured himself the last of the open bottle of wine and took a drink. "Let me guess, you ran into each other some place and neither of you mentioned it. I get that from you, Harry, but why didn't you say anything Rosie?"

Hermione couldn't contain herself, though. Her newly married, pregnant daughter had just shown up for the first time since breaking the news. "That's all well and good, Ron, but I have some questions for Miss Rose Minerva Weasley. What were you thinking, running off and...and...you're going to be a mum! And where's this husband of yours?"

Rose stood there, having one of her usual interactions with her mother, and couldn't resist. "It's not Weasley any more, Mum. And my husband? He's standing over there."

Hermione glanced back to Harry and then turned to her daughter in anger. "Oh I don't think so. Don't try to drag Harry into this just because he happens to be here. This is just like when you tried to blame Hugo for borrowing Arthur's car when everybody knows it was you. That didn't get you out of punishment then and now..."

Rose gave an exasperated sigh. "Mum, you can't punish me. I'm an adult. And I'm not lying. Am I, Harry?"

Every eye turned to Harry. He ran a hand through his hair and after a deep breath said "I was on a job in Mexico..."

"Fucking hell." Ron sat down without looking, almost missing the kitchen chair. "Fucking hell. Harry? Rosie?"

Once again everyone was seated around the kitchen table, this time with clearly demarcated sides, as Ron and Hermione sat directly across from Harry and Rose, and the story came out. Rose was working a job in Mexico for George sourcing a plant used in ancient Incan potions that could hopefully be adapted to new products, and upon successful negotiations had gone out with her team to a local pub to celebrate. Harry was also in Mexico, but for entirely different reasons, as a dark cult devoted to bringing back an evil Aztec god-wizard needed disbanding and the Mexican wizarding government had contracted him to complete the job. He was also successful, and had gone to the pub for a quick meal and a drink. Harry had learned many years ago to utilise a glamour when completing jobs, as when it was known that Harry Potter was on the scene many leads simply dried up. Rose wasn't using her last name, either, as when it became known that the Weasley Corporation was looking to complete a deal competitors came out of the woodwork.

During that visit to the pub Harry had heard English, with the appropriate accent, and it had made him slightly nostalgic and, if he was honest, a bit depressed. It had been quite a long time since he had anything resembling a romantic relationship with anyone, not since the Curse Breaker from Iceland, and that didn't end well. He'd been drawn to the pretty young woman, so full of life, and when she stopped by his table, surprised to see another face like hers and heard his accent, the conversation began. A conversation that led to drinks, a few more drinks and then a visit to a hotel room. Both of them extended their visit to Mexico for another three weeks, both of them wary of relating their real names, of any specific identifying events, names or places that would reveal their identities. Finally, on the next to last day, before Harry could muster up the nerve to tell her what he had to tell her she dropped the announcement on him. She was pregnant.

That led to complete and total honesty. When she revealed her name, who she was and who she worked for he was stunned. The ocean sounds were all he could hear as they stood on the beach, the warm Mexican sun beating down on them. When Harry could finally string together a coherent thought, thoughts that did not include Hermione and Ron hexing him within an inch of his life, he dispelled his glamour. To say that Rose was shocked would be an understatement. Once again they extended their stay in Mexico, this time without pretense, and discussed their future. The were married in a little Muggle village in the mountains by an Incan wizard, surrounded by the villagers and the lush green vegetation.

"So..." Ron looked over at the two of them, still trying to wrap his brain around everything, then focused on his daughter. "So you sent Harry in first to soften us up."

Rose snorted. "I may not have Hugo's brains but give me some credit. What would have happened if we had walked in and said 'surprise, guess what?' Besides, there's not that much age difference. What'd you always say, Mum, witches and wizards live longer so it's not that big of a deal?"

Hermione huffed. "I only said that when you were engaged to that man in Canada..."

"Roger."

She dismissed her daughter's comment with a wave of her hand. "Roger, whatever, I only said that to make you feel better. He's our age! Harry James Potter..."

Ron put his arm on his wife's hand. "Not now, 'Mione. Not now." He turned to Harry. "Mate, I just have a couple of things to ask. Are you happy?"

Harry glanced over quickly to Rose and then back to Ron. "Yeah. I am. First time in years."

"Good." Ron turned to Rose. "You?"

She wrinkled up her nose. "Not thrilled about the getting fat part of pregnancy, but...yeah, Daddy. I am." She reached over and took Harry's arm. "We are."

"Good, good." Ron turned back to Harry. "Normally this would be the part where I'd scare the pants off of anyone dating Rosie, like I did with that twat Scorpius, but I know you'd clean the floor with me if I raised a wand. Just promise me you won't make her an early widow and you'll make her happy. And that you won't take her and the baby all over the world."

"No." Harry glanced over at Rose again and then back to his old friend. "No, we're not doing that. We discussed it and I'm moving back to England."

All of the tension in Hermione's shoulders seemed to lessen slightly at that comment. "Oh thank Merlin. I don't know what I'd do, my only grandchild all over the place." She stared at Harry. "I can't believe it, after all these years, after all my letters telling you that you needed to find someone and settle down, of all the women in the world you had to do that with my daughter. How in the world am I going to explain that to my parents?"

Rose laughed. "Same way you always do, Mum. Magic."

-ooo-

To say the press had a field day with the Potter/Weasley marriage was an understatement. They had always hoped for Harry to marry a Weasley, but they never would have guessed it would be Rose Weasley. Family members were shocked, to say the least, but ultimately, after watching the interactions between Harry and Rose, all of them agreed that it was a good match. Harry's maturity combined with Rose's enthusiasm and attentiveness made them a formidable couple; Rose's caring personality, so much like her Nana Molly without some of the more annoying facets, helped Harry resolve many of the old issues which plagued him from time to time. Rose and the baby helped give him purpose; he gave up the life of world-travelling adventurer for hire and devoted himself to making life better not only for his child but for all of magical Britain.

Many years later a small girl with curly, dark hair sat with her crayons in her father's office, drawing a hippogriff eating the boy who had teased her at playtime. Her Daddy said he would be there soon and she was to be good in the office until he could come back and get her and she was to mind Aurelia, Daddy's assistant. She liked Aurelia, she always gave her treats, the kind that Nana Mione would never let her have. When the door opened she got excited, as Daddy would had promised her a broom ride home, but it wasn't Daddy, it was Aurelia.

"Elisabeth, it's time to go."

The little girl stood up and shook her head. "Nuh, uh. Daddy said he'd come get me."

"Well, not this time." Aurelia shook her head. "He got called into a very important meeting. I'm going to take you to your Mummy at her office. How's that sound?"

"Boring."

Aurelia laughed. "How can going to your Mummy's office be boring? The Triple W is a wonderful place."

Elisabeth scrunched up her nose. "I gots in trouble last time for touching things."

"Ah." Aurelia smiled. "I understand. Pick up your crayons and we'll be off."

Elisabeth put her crayons in the little rucksack, placed the picture on Daddy's desk and went over to Aurelia. "All done."

"Good. Let's go." Aurelia took Elisabeth by the hand and the left the office. The Ministry workers all smiled and waved at Elisabeth; even if she was the Minister for Magic's daughter she was a precocious little girl who, more often than not, managed to say just the right thing at the wrong time. Her mum called it 'pulling a Ron.' And on the way out of the Ministry, right before the Floo, she said something that made Aurelia stop, try somewhat successfully and stifle a laugh.

Aurelia lowered herself to Elisabeth's level. "I do have a son, and he's younger than you. And yes, your Daddy is as old as Nana Hermione, so I think you should ask your Mummy why sometimes Nana Hermione calls your Daddy her son. But I think she says son-in-law. That's a good question for Mummy."

A/N: Yes, I know, another story while I have too many WIPs in-process, but while looking though my notes for Lady Black, Lord Potter I found a note I'd forgotten about, a small story idea about Harry and Rose. I think it came from researching 'rare pairs' one day and I wrote it down, and it remained tucked away in my notebook for who knows how long. A year or so? Regardless, I woke up this morning thinking about it and just started typing.