Author's note: If you can find the time, please do comment. Harry Potter does not belong to me. *sighs*
O.o.O.o.O
"Veritas vos liberabit- The truth shall set you free…"
O.o.O.o.O
After over five years of surfing outside the home turf, their Savior had returned.
The Wizarding World was in frenzy. People mobbed him when he stepped out of home, feverish, excited, begging to know where he had been, what he had been doing. He flashed them all a docile smile that begged to be left alone and ducked his head.
The Wizarding papers demanded to know who his muse was; who had inspired him to write a story of such tender love and so much heart-break. Harry Potter shook his head and evaded.
"Harry will talk to you all." Harry Potter's close confidant and best friend, Ronald Weasley was reported to have said, announced the Daily Prophet. "He's only just come back. Please give him some time to settle down." What is going to in our hero's mind, or who, no one can tell. But this reporter would sure like to know.
Overnight, after over five years of peace, he had become the prime media-target again.
O.o.O.o.O
Present day, England
Ginny Weasley-Thomas smiled gently as Harry swung her daughter into the air and laughed delightedly at her shrill chuckles. Her husband laid his beer bottle down with a clank on their coffee table and grinned. "He's very good with her, isn't he?" He asked. Ginny turned her head, slightly to regard Dean. "Better than you, definitely." She teased. Dean scowled. Before he could reply, a blur of red hair flung itself at her.
"Mum, mum, Uncle Harry says that we can go to the wizarding fair that's coming out day-after tomorrow." Ginny smiled tenderly at the little girl and brushed her hair out of her face. "Is that so love?" Lynnette Thomas grinned, displaying two missing front teeth. Ginny frowned and looked up at Harry. "Your press conference is that day, isn't it?" She rebuked. He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck.
"I wasn't trying to get out of it, promise." He grimaced. "If it's a story they want, it's a story they get." Dean chuckled sardonically. "Oh rue the life of the Boy-who-lived-to tell-the-tale-twice, eh, mate?" Harry grinned. Ginny stood, passing her daughter along to Dean and walked to her dearest friend. She wrapped him in a gentle embrace. He kissed the top of her head, absently and rested his chin on her head. She smiled against his broad chest. "There was a time-" she said, laughing. "-when I could stand toe to toe with you and look into your eyes." She looked up into his jaded green eyes. He smiled down at her. "That time has long past, Gin." He teased, drawing out the 'o' sound in the word long. She swatted at him, playfully and pulled away. "Dinner, anyone?"
Dean stood. "Let's get you all set, mate" He clasped Harry on the shoulder as his daughter ran screaming after her mother into the kitchen and grinned. "It's going to be one hell of a press conference." Harry sighed.
O.o.O.o.O
The day of the press conference dawned bright and sunny. Harry glanced nervously outside, flinching when he spotted the media-hounds; pulling anxiously at his tie. He wished sometimes that he had not come back. How hard would it have been really to just fade into the woodwork?
There was a knock on the door and a head of dark hair appeared. "You ready for this, Potter?" Pansy Weasley flashed him a shark's smile. He shook his head, miserably and ran a hand through his unruly black hair. She walked into the room, dressed smartly in a soft grey muggle pant-suit.
She straightened his tie and chuckled. "I won't let them pry unnecessarily or invade your privacy in anyway." She assured, gently. "You have my word, as your solicitor." He smiled down at her, sadly. "Do you have any word on his whereabouts, Pansy? Any clue at all?" She shook her head, her cold, black eyes softening, almost against her will. "I am truly sorry about what happened, Harry." She said, into the silence between them. "You must stop blaming yourself. Sometimes, we don't see what is right there the first time. There are always second chances."
He shook his head, blindly, almost used to the weight that settled like lead at the bottom of his stomach. "I got my second chance, Pansy. Those couple of years, they were my second chance. I should have known really." He smiled, mirthlessly. "When do I ever get what I want?" Before she could say anything consoling, he took a deep breath and walked out of the door.
O.o.O.o.O
He greeted the crowd of reporters with a barely there smile.
He nodded to Pansy and she turned her sharp gaze on the crowd. "Mr. Potter will take your questions now." Her voice rang clear, almost like a warning. The crowd remained tame in lieu of her watchful eyes. A couple of hands went up simultaneously. Harry sighed. He might as well get this over with, he supposed. He nodded to a gangly brown haired man on the front row. "Yes?"
"Mr. Potter." The man stood and smiled. "Can you tell us what exactly your book is about?" Harry scowled. "You would know if you read it." He drawled; the condescending tone eerily reminiscent of someone from his past. Pansy's eyes danced. There was a ripple of laughter. Harry raised an eyebrow at the blushing man, asking him silently if he had any further, more intelligent questions to ask. The reporter sat down, embarrassed, ignoring the snickering.
"Yes, on the second row?" He said, nodding to a woman with fiery red hair, who reminded him a little bit of Ginny. She stood. "Good Morning, Mr. Potter." He nodded, amiably. "This book?" She held it out and smiled. "It's a very poignant account of love and loss." She paused, and looked back down at the book in her hand. "Is this what you actually feel about the concept?"
Harry sighed and pulled his glasses off, wiping them with the edge of his tie, though they were already clean. "You could say that, yes." He said, shortly. "Very good, sir." The woman said and sat, smiling slyly. He glanced curiously at her for a few moments before he took the next question. "Can you please tell us the thought that inspired you to write the book, sir?"
"Everyone is given one shot at love." Harry said, smiling at the reporter who had asked him the question. "The kind of love that makes you appreciate the different nuances of the world, breathe in the every different scent and love every season. It changes you as a person, completely, irrevocably, until you cannot recognize yourself, until you cannot relate to the person you once were." He was gazing thoughtfully into the distance. The female reporters sighed as one. Pansy smirked.
He continued. "Whether you recognize it in time and take your chance, however, is entirely up to you." He shrugged, almost despondently. Pansy sighed, melancholy creeping slowly through her. She wished she could help Harry, she really did. But it seemed as if the person Harry was looking for so desperately had fallen off the face of the planet. Even his mother did not know where he was.
"Have you been given that shot, yet, Harry Potter?" Luna Lovegood asked, from the back of the crowd, dreamily. Harry smiled at her, happy to see a friendly face in the group of sharks. "Yes." He said, feeling that familiar despondency. "Yes, I have." He said, the smile sliding slowly off his face. He sighed. "It seems so obvious now that he's lost to me" His shoulders drooped. "I however, never took it. Or by the time I did, it was too late." 'Too late', he never did like those words. They never boded well for anybody.
They leaned forward as one, sensing a story. Harry, however, it seemed, was done.
He stood. "Thank you so much for your time." He said, in farewell and stepped down from the elevated platform where he had been sitting. The reporters stood, somehow sympathizing silently with his melancholy. Nobody spoke a word as he walked down the small stoned path in the garden leading straight to the back door of his house, his strides slow, heavy; as if there was some great burden on his shoulders. Pansy sighed and stared at the closed door for a few minutes. Then she set about dispersing the gathered crowd.
"I'm very sorry, but this Press Conference can be continued at another time." She said, clearly, after casting a Sonorous charm. "Mr. Potter is still recovering from a rather heavy loss. You will be notified of the subsequent date." She waited till a murmur of unanimous approval arose. "Thank you. Have a pleasant day." She cancelled the Sonorous charm and climbed nimbly off the platform.
Luna stared at the spot Harry had been sitting in a few moments before. "It's never too late, Harry." She whispered, a dreamy smile playing about her lips. "The Crumpled-Horn Snorkels never let true love die." The man standing next to her flashed her a strange look and moved away a couple of steps.
O.o.O.o.O
5 years ago, England
"Harry, don't dawdle, idiot." Hermione called, flying down the stairs of No. 12 Grimmauld Place, her hair flying all over the place, eyes wild, a small suitcase clutched tightly in her left hand. Harry laughed. "Will you relax? I'm coming." He walked down the stairs at a much more sedate pace than his muggle-born friend had, holding a back-pack, all smiles and shining eyes. Hermione glared, pulling on her shoes urgently. "You keep this up; you're going to miss your portkey." She snapped. "It's an international one; they won't wait even for you."
"Who says we're going to make them wait?" He pulled on his sneakers and grabbed his jacket from the coat rack near the door. "Well, then." He held out a hand gallantly as they stepped out into the late August sun. She smiled, despite herself and looped her hand through his. They apparated with a resounding crack.
Ron smiled when Hermione walked through the swinging doors.
"Where's the prat?" He asked fondly, taking the suitcase from Hermione's hand. Her answering smile mirrored his. Harry walked up behind her, holding the hand of a woman who looked like she was going to fade to dust any moment. He grinned at Ron and guided the witch gently to Gate 2, asking her in a lilting husk if she was sure that she was going to Amsterdam. She nodded, explaining that her cat was going to meet her there. Ron and Hermione bit back a laugh at Harry's flummoxed expression.
He handed the woman to the travel staff at the gate and retraced his footsteps back to his friends.
Ron smiled softly. "Okay, mate?" Harry dimpled. "Just grand." He replied, holding his hand out for his suitcase. Ron handed it to him. "You have your OWL and NEWT report cards with you?" Hermione asked, perhaps for the hundredth time. Harry rolled his eyes. Ron bit his lip to smother a grin. "The letter from Kingsley is in the slit on the top of the suitcase in a transparent folder. Your identification papers are there as well." She paused, thoughtfully. "Oh, and don't forget to stop at the exchange for some muggle money." Harry pulled her into a hug to cut off her rambles.
"I'll be okay, 'Mione." He whispered, into her hair. Her eyes watered. "I know you will." She answered. "I'm just…" She choked. He pulled away and smiled softly. "I know." Ron thumped Harry on the back. "So this is it mate." He teased. "All your dreams are going to come true." Harry's smile turned sly. "You ask her out, Ron, alright?" He said, waggling his eyebrows. Ron turned as red as his hair. Hermione slid her hand through his and grinned at Harry. "I'll make sure he does."
"Mr. Harry Potter, sir, if you'll kindly walk this way…?" One of the travel staff at his gate called. Harry took a few steps, walking backwards. He tilted his head to a side and smiled. "I'll see you guys when I see you." He called. "I'll come find you if you don't write." Hermione called back, tearfully. Ron waved, rolling his eyes.
Harry grinned and turned. The war was over, the sun was shining, the flowers were in full bloom and the birds were singing. This was the day before the first day of the rest of his life.
O.o.O.o.O
Author's note- Please do comment. *smiles hopefully*