Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter 'verse. The only aspects of this story that are mine are Mrs Radley and the Murany family.
AN: The first thing I would like to make clear is do not expect regular updates. I'm updating as each chapter is completed, so there will be a wait, and I'm not good at consistently writing, so it will probably be a while. Sorry.
Second thing – Draco will enter the story in the next chapter.
Thirdly – this story is my baby. I have a lot of plot arcs planned already, and it will hopefully span seven years, story-time. It's going to be kind of big.
Fourth – despite the title and summary, the entire thing won't be set in Grimmauld Place. I just thought they sounded good, so…
Fifth? I hope you enjoy :)
TW for mentions of suicide and depression
Prologue – Moving On and Mending
It was the second of December, seven months to the day since the Final Battle, when Draco Malfoy arrived on his doorstep.
Seven months since the day that Harry Potter, Chosen One and Boy-Who-Lived, became the man who defeated the Dark Lord.
In the weeks that followed people had ignored the work that needed to be done, and let themselves live and grieve for the first time in far too long. At last, though, attention turned to the big clean-up ahead of them.
True to her nature, Hermione was one of the first to consider the work ahead of them; in fact, it was her passionate speeches that prompted the nation to begin the monumental task. She'd been exhausted by the war but was never one to sit idle; after a month spent with her parents in happy reunion, Hermione began refreshing her knowledge of Wizarding Law, and settled in for a full revamp of the Ministry of Magic with Kingsley by her side.
Within days, the older and more experienced witches and wizards had given up the pretence of control and she was appointed acting Minister for Magic to give her reform the greatest possible authority.
Ron fully supported his partner, but from a distance; he was proud of Hermione's intellect and drive, but was content to leave the politics to her while he volunteered in the more wands-on work of physical clean-up. In the first months he was the driving force behind the rebuilding of Diagon Alley, although the project was actually spearheaded by Neville.
After his role leading the rebellion at Hogwarts, and having beheaded Nagini (a task which was now understood to be of monumental importance), Neville was something of a national hero himself, but it was the chance to work beside Ron that really inspired the public.
The redhead's next port of call was Hogwarts castle, where Ginny had long been busy rebuilding walls, towers and bridges. However, even without their help the work would've been done quickly; as the site of the Final Battle and the symbol of childhood for so many, the beloved school could never be left in ruins for long.
Whatever his work, Ron was always accompanied by George, for the two men had become almost as inseparable as the twins themselves. With the love of his family, and the support of his brother, George coped with Fred's loss as best he could. Really, though, his strength came from being conscious of a constant smiling presence, waiting patiently for him to live out his years.
Then there was Harry. He was in high demand everywhere now that the real clean-up had begun, and so he flitted around keeping up morale, having not yet learned to say no. He was occasionally asked to help out on the political side of things, standing behind Hermione as she gave important speeches, or sitting by her in dull meetings: he never said much, and redirected all questions to her expertise, constantly reminding the press and politicians that she was the brains of the trio.
Over the weeks of reform and restoration, Harry could be found at various construction sites throughout the country, casting spell after spell to rebuild what was broken; he visited the bedsides of many of the patients of St Mungo's, listening to their stories with a patient ear; he gave interviews to The Daily Prophet and The Quibbler (though never Witch Weekly or Rita Skeeter), and his calming tones were often heard on the Wizarding Wireless all over Britain. He had little choice but to be the symbol his country needed, and so he did his best.
However, there were times when Harry could only be seen haunting the graves of all those he'd loved and lost, or wasn't to be found at all. On these blackest of days, he might be nursing a cup of tea in the unnaturally empty kitchen of the Burrow, kept company by at least one Weasley who had engineered the day off. Most often, though, Harry spent the hours wandering the rooms of number twelve Grimmauld Place, now his home, remembering the time before people started dying.
But now the story threatens to become gloomy. This is a tale of how Harry was not so much mended, but completed, so I shall spare you the details of his breaking and piecing together. Only know this: with love, support, time – and of course strong tea – Harry grew to become as happy as he could ever be, for some months at least.
Chapter One – Intervention Friday
Following the Final Battle, Harry had of course been invited to live at the Burrow for "as long as you need dear", and indeed Mrs Weasley had probably expected it. But after life with the Dursley's, and then on the hunt, he'd become accustomed to solitude. The atmosphere of the Weasley's home was too smothering for long-term occupation, especially on those days when he just needed to be allowed to wallow in his grief. So he had been polite but firm as he told Mrs Weasley he would be staying at Grimmauld Place – alone – indefinitely.
Harry held his ground when she threatened to get the intimidating Professor McGonagall onside, insisting that at seventeen he was old enough to be living alone; and besides, the new Headmistress of Hogwarts had little influence on him now he wouldn't be returning to school. He held firm when she cited the threat of elusive Death Eaters and their sympathisers, reminding her that as Order of the Phoenix Headquarters, Grimmauld Place was warded with every spell known to wizard-kind – and several known only to Dumbledore. She finally relented when Harry agreed to come "home" for Sunday dinners.
And so Harry settled in, and began to remodel the old place.
He was glad to be alone in the house where Sirius had spent much of his 'freedom', and his last happy Christmas. He needed space to think about everything – about the war, and the death, and what he was going to do with his life. There was a time when he'd wanted to be an Auror, but then began the year-long search for horcruxes… In that time he'd been attacked, captured, and betrayed; he'd been forced to listen as Hermione was tortured, buried his most loyal friend, and lost so many in the Final Battle, as well as dying himself. He'd had enough of fighting and darkness to last him a lifetime.
Sometimes the solitude of the old house became too much for him, and he threatened to sink into depression – times when he'd glance up, sure he'd heard his godfather laughing, or felt Dumbledore's twinkling gaze on him; when he'd catch a glimpse of pink out the corner of his eye and turn, expecting to find Tonks grinning back at him, but greeted only with an empty room; times when he could feel Lupin's calming hand on his shoulder; when he'd hear the mind-muddling banter of Fred and George, who was still struggling with the death of his twin.
When this happened, and sometimes when it didn't, he could expect Hermione and Ron to drop in at a moment's notice – sometimes together, sometimes alone.
Luna, too, visited, though she spent most of her days rushing to finish the artwork on her new home's walls, or collecting unusual specimens to bring Xenophilius in St. Mungo's. He was still rather shaken by the events of the war, but they were overjoyed to hear he would be discharged soon.
Neville also stopped by, joined by Ginny when she could be dragged away from school; but they were caught up in their new relationship (which had surprised Harry and Ron – but never Hermione – and disappointed girls nation-wide), and while the love-struck Neville or the couple themselves were always welcome, they could sometimes get a little wearing.
Oftentimes the various Weasley visitors would drag George out of his joke shop to visit with them, making sure he never felt alone. Days with George were a trial; it seemed whenever he returned to some semblance of his former self, he would inevitably pause to let Fred deliver the punchline, and they would be back where they started, each of them nursing broken hearts.
Harry was never truly alone; he had loyal friends who looked out for him and an overly affectionate surrogate family. There was always somewhere he could go, someone he could spend time with; and if there wasn't, well then, someone would make time. But some days it just didn't seem enough.
Friday: 27th November, 1998
Harry puttered over to the kettle, filling it with water, and pulling a generous selection from the biscuit tin. Pudding; he wanted pudding. There was a fresh sticky-date in the freezer – he should really leave it for Saturday, when maybe some friends would drop by, but… One little slice wouldn't hurt, right? He put that in the oven too.
Today was one of the good ones. He'd been up in Scotland, at the opening of a memorial to some of the local war victims, and had managed to drop in and visit Ginny for an hour or so, before her next class began. He'd enjoyed the time catching up with his ex, who against all society's expectations remained one of his closest friends. He hadn't seen her in person for weeks, and there were some things that just couldn't be shared over parchment. He'd had afternoon tea with Hagrid, insistently turning down every offer of rock-cakes, being all the half-giant had left in his cupboards. Harry had even managed to get under McGonagall's feet for half an hour, chatting about various mutual friends until she threw him out of her school. Luckily, he relocated Ginny in time for her to escort him off the grounds.
Harry quietly enjoyed the scenery and the fresh mountain air, while Ginny rambled on about the latest Charms assignment, and pretended not to notice where he was leading her. She fell silent as they neared the monuments – two great walls. The larger wall bore the names of all Hogwarts' present and future students who went missing during the war – those who had been confirmed dead, and still more whose fate remained unknown. Harry stepped up to the smaller slab of marble – carved into its surface were the names of the more than fifty victims of the Battle of Hogwarts.
Ginny hung back, allowing Harry to greet their friends privately. He brushed his fingers over the names he recognized, muttering a quiet, "Hey." He stood still for a moment, hand lingering on the cool surface, eyes closed. He listened to the lapping of small waves on the lake shore, felt the breath in his lungs and the wind on his face. They were gone, but he was alive – and it was ok; they would have wanted him to live.
The pair moved on, the conversation picking up its thread as they left the immovable stone behind. As they skirted the edge of the lake, they passed another pair braving the weather – some Hufflepuff girls the year below Ginny, who nodded at them companionably. "Hello Georgia, Charlie."
"Hi Ginny!" They glanced hopefully at Harry, who fidgeted uncomfortably, nodding at the pair with a strained smile that didn't reach his eyes. Ginny, watching, decided not to introduce them.
"It's freezing, what are you two doing out here?"
"We could ask you the same thing!"
Ginny frowned because no, they couldn't. She and Harry were heading directly for the school gates, whereas the other two had been wandering 'aimlessly', obviously altering their path to meet the hero 'coincidentally'.
"I was just walking Harry out; he had some business up here and decided to drop in."
Harry shifted awkwardly as the two, seemingly very nice girls, seized the opportunity to speak to him.
"Of course! It's great that you could drop in and see your friend, you must be very busy. Didn't you open, like, three hospital wings last month, and reopen an alley?
He blushed. "Yeah, well… They needed a few hundred more rooms to cope with all the inpatients, it was the least I could do. And the alley was all Neville's hard work, really, just ask Ginny!" Please, please, just ask Ginny.
The three turned to her, the girls politely, Harry beseechingly.
"Oh yeah, Neville coordinated the whole thing, and kept up the volunteer numbers. He even designed a little square with some of the more harmless wizarding plants, and a little fountain, and…" She trailed off, the earnest nods a shaky cover for the lingering glances. "But you don't want to hear about this. What are you both up to this weekend? Harry was just saying he might try and come up on Sunday, spend the day revisiting some favourite walks while the weather's still..."
She didn't even need to finish the sentence, the 'Puff's not caring enough to question why anyone would want to spend time outside in this bitter cold. They turned back to Harry, full of smiles and suggestions. The boy's frantic eyes were toned down with an ease which comes from being too long in the spotlight, and his confusion was evident only in the quick glances he sent Ginny's way while he fielded questions.
She refused to come to his assistance, though, choosing instead to watch the interaction with narrowed eyes; the girls probably assumed she was getting possessive of her ex-boyfriend, but Harry knew what that look meant: she was thinking. Nothing pleasant ever followed Ginny Weasley thinking.
The conversation ended naturally only when Georgia suddenly remembered she was meant to meet her boyfriend more than twenty minutes ago. When she said 'boyfriend', Harry should know it was just more of a high school fling, really. He was her age, after all, and she was really only interested in older men.
He told her – rather awkwardly – that it was good to know, and they parted on apparently rather friendly terms.
He turned to Ginny accusingly.
"What on earth was that? I am not equipped to deal with… with flighty, flirty school-girls; and I never planned on coming up Sunday! What the hell are you playing at, Weasley?"
The redhead just giggled, any disquieting concentration wiped from her face. "Watch it, Potter. You're beginning to sound just like Malfoy. You need to loosen up! Come on."
And with that, she looped her arm through his once more, and dragged him off towards the gates.
Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he might just be naturally paranoid, but he found blaming the war a far easier way to reconcile his conscience.
As he apparated a little further down the path, rather than to Grimmauld Place as Ginny expected him to, he told himself suspicion was what kept him alive all these years.
As he hid behind the nearest tree, he reminded himself that he was usually right about these things. After all, think of Malfoy during Sixth Year! He really had been up to something. Even if he wasn't the heir of Slytherin, and Professor Snape hadn't been trying to steal the Philosopher's Stone…
As his eyes picked out Ginny, half way up the path, he stopped dwelling on the past altogether – that had never done him any good during the war, after all.
But – that was strange. It looked like her steps were taking her to the Owlery, rather than the Entrance Hall…
As Harry waited for the kettle to boil he pondered what the look might be about, and who she would have decided to contact. Then he wondered if he was just going insane, and was, in fact, a horrible person for doubting his friend.
His thoughts were interrupted as the oven timer binged; he'd just pulled out the hot dish and was carrying it to a clear space of bench when the fire suddenly flared green – he jumped – the pudding went flying through the air – Seeker reflexes were no good when he'd left his wand by the stove – Ron stepped out of the flames.
He'd never seen the other man's hand move that fast. Whether he'd built quick reflexes from his work at George's shop, or was spurned into action by the thought of food going to waste, Harry didn't know – but the next instant the dish was cooling at the long table, and Ron was exclaiming, "Stickydate! Thanks, man," and conjuring a spoon.
Before Harry could leap to his dessert's defence, the fire flashed green again and Hermione stepped into the room, brushing the soot off her clothes. "Really Ronald, you've just eaten! Oh hello Harry, sorry to just drop in on you like this, but—Ron!"
"Wha-?"
"For goodness sake, swallow before you speak. Can't you at least get a bowl or something?"
Harry sighed as the argument continued. Despite them being the ones to enter his house, anyone would think he was the one interrupting. It was best to just wait for the squabble to finish; they'd acknowledge him when they were ready. He refilled the kettle.
Then the fire turned green again, and what was this, let's all drop in on Harry night? Merlin…
Then Luna appeared in the flames, Luna who he hadn't seen for over a week, and all irritation was wiped from his mind.
"Luna! Hi! You're in perfect time; I was just boiling the kettle. How's Xenophilius?"
She gave him an airy smile, pulling the three's usual cups from the cupboard.
"Hello Harry. Daddy's feeling much better, the Healer said he should be home in a few days. Though he won't be calm enough for travel for a while yet," she added, frowning, "so we'll have to postpone the expedition for the Crumple-Horned Snorkack 'til next Winter. They hibernate during the Summer you see, and Daddy says we must be very careful not to disturb them or they might become violent."
Her pale eyes widened in either awe or fear, and Harry grinned, restraining himself from squeezing the adorable out of her.
The nonsense aspect of this speech managed to finally dragged Hermione's attention away from her mannerless boyfriend; she threw up her hands in exasperation at the world around her and the people she'd roped herself to. "Hibernate in Summer? Whatever are you—?"
Harry winked at the blonde, who winked back; she'd quickly discovered that mentioning any of the Quibbler's more controversial creatures was sure to rile Hermione up. They all frequently delighted in driving her mad, but Luna was the second most successful, following Ron.
"Oh, never mind all that Luna, don't you remember what we're here for?"
"Wait, what?" Harry looked between the two, confused.
"Of course, Hermione," she replied patiently. "Now why don't you leave Ron to his stolen pudding and explain all this to Harry?"
The thief in question began to laugh at Luna's ability to keep his errant girlfriend on track, the sound bringing her wrath down on him once more. Ron, hardly bothered by this after all the years, swallowed down a huge mouthful and turned to Harry with a sticky grin. "Harry, mate – this is an intervention!"
Hermione yelled in frustration – she didn't know how things always managed to get out of her control like this – and stomped over to help Luna with the tea things. Let the boys have their childish moment.
Harry gracefully surrendered his place at the counter, and wandered over to join Ron at the table with a spoon of his own – and bowls.
"An intervention," he mused. "On a Friday?" Ron snorted. "No, it's just you guys usually take me to hand on Sundays – you know how mopey I get."
The Weasley rolled his eyes, apparently finding this to be rather an understatement.
"Harry, why didn't you tell us you were going to Scotland today?" Hermione demanded. "We would have gone with you!"
He shrugged. "It just came up. Besides, weren't you busy reforming something or… Oh!" His eyes went wide as several things clicked into place.
Luna smiled, "Yes Harry – we've all heard from Ginny. Georgia and Charlie are really very nice girls you know. They stopped whispering about me when Ginny threatened them in Fourth Year, and whenever they stole my things they gave them right back if I asked."
Harry frowned, but Hermione beat him to it. "None of that makes them nice people, Luna. They shouldn't ever have been cruel to you just because you believed different things to them. In fact, neither should we, but we're passed that now. Anyway, I'm sure Harry would never wish to be with someone who treated his friends badly, isn't that right?"
He nodded definitively. "Exactly. If they have a problem with you, I have a problem with—Wait. What's this about 'being with someone'? Who says I was ever going to 'be' with them? Who says I have to be with anyone?"
Luna gave him a look that seemed to say, 'Bless – the poor boy's oblivious!' Coming from her, he tried not to be insulted.
Ron maintained his single-minded focus on the pudding.
Hermione turned to face the Hero dead on.
"Harry. The war ended more than six months ago. It's been just as long since you and Ginny decided to stay friends. In that time, she and Neville have gone through the awkward flirting stage, the awkward dating stage, and are now mostly embedded in the puppy love stage, with occasional bouts of Married Couple. You, on the other hand, have opened multiple buildings, organizations and roads, developed a relationship with your godson, encouraged your friends to fulfil their dreams, and dated no one."
Harry wasn't sure he liked where this intervention was going. He blinked at her. "Your point?"
Hermione sighed. "You've done really well under all this pressure; we're all very proud of you – but we don't think this is healthy. You can't keep hiding your feeling of worthlessness behind a huge list of accomplishments."
He opened his mouth to protest, but Luna silenced him with her penetrating gaze. Of course Ginny would have sent her – somehow Luna knew things.
"You're using your Hero complex to compensate for your loneliness, and cover up your life-long fear of never being good enough."
Harry winced, but he didn't try to deny it. When Luna spoke… well, then any argument was over.
The four sat there for a moment, tea going cold before them. Harry was steadily avoiding everyone's gaze; Hermione was trying to catch his eye, and resist the urge to hug him; Luna was smiling beatifically, positive that everything would be alright, though her eyes were tinged with sadness; Ron was staring thoughtfully into his bowl…
He lifted his head. "Sorry, mate, but she's right. You're miserable and alone, but you're holed up here all the time. How are you ever going to meet anyone?"
The brunette frowned. "I meet people!"
Ron waved him quiet. "Yes, we know, during your rounds of St. Mungo's. And it's all very sweet and all that, but the only reason you're there is because of the war. You're easing your guilty conscience, not getting on with your life."
"What, so… so I should just abandon them all? Never go back? Some people there have no one. Like Mrs Radley – her husband and children were killed because they had Muggle blood; she was tortured for 'asssisting a filthy Mudblood to steal the magical property of Wizarding England'. The healers told her she'll never walk again, and the spasms will never go away. Before I started to visit her, she was on suicide watch. I'm the only one she has now."
The three of them flinched at his words, and Hermione timidly tried to interrupt. "We're not saying you should stop, just—"
"No, you just want me to 'live for the future'," he sneered. "Well there are people who can't, and I won't just leave them behind like the rest of our world has. What about Daniel Murany? Who'll be there to offer him support as his twin ignores his presence every day – ignores everything! Certainly not his idiot family, they fled to America as soon as they saw her, getting on with their lives. As for Julian, no one even knows what happened to her. She went missing, and when they found her, she wouldn't speak or move; she was practically catatonic! How is she supposed to move on, hmm? The healers say there's no internal injuries, nothing they can do. She's lost somewhere inside herself. If I go, who will make sure Daniel remembers to eat and sleep while he tries to get his sister back?"
He stared down at them, breathing hard, unable to remember when he stood and kicked his chair to the floor.
Kreacher, disturbed by the noise, came out of his room and surveyed the scene before him. He frowned at the visitors as he moved to Harry's side, picking up the chair and pressing him into it, warming up the mug of tea and pushing it towards him.
"Don't you be upsetting the Master, now, or Kreacher will have to ask you to leave."
The little elf held firm as Hermione tried to placate him. "We're sorry, Kreacher. You're doing such a wonderful job looking after Harry, but we need to help him—"
"Help, Miss Hermione calls it? Help, to tell the good Master he's doing wrong by supporting others? You don't hear his nightmares after every visit. You don't see him in the morning, when the sadness takes him. It hurts Kreacher's Master every time, but he goes back. It's not out of guilt, it's out of love. And you-" he turns to Ron accusingly, "you of all people should understand the difference, helping that brother of yours out in his shop."
"Kreacher," Harry croaked out, emotion making his voice crack. "That's enough Kreacher, thank you, but I can handle this now. You can go."
"Master," the elf replied, bowing low. He shot off one last glare, before trundling back to his cupboard.
Hermione reached for his hand. "Harry—"
He shook his head. "Don't." He glanced at Ron, whose face was pale beneath the freckles. "I'm sorry for what he said about George – but he's right. I couldn't leave them any more than you could leave him."
Ron nodded, dishing himself up more stickydate pudding. "It's alright, mate, we understand. We'll stop pushing."
A voice spoke up. "Would you like to search for the Crumple-Horned Snorcack on Sunday?"
Harry glanced at Luna, surprised. "I thought you said they live in Sweden."
"Oh, they do," she assured him. "But if Hermione didn't remember that Daddy and I actually search for them in Summer, I doubt Georgia and Charlie will remember they aren't native."
"Georgia and Charlie…"
"Oh yes, if we're going to be searching by the castle we should invite them, don't you think? They did say they wanted to enjoy the scenery with you, and Hufflepuffs are supposed to be good at searching for things."
He stared at her for a moment, not sure if she was really as foolhardy as she seemed…
"I was thinking we might send them off into the hills together, and you and I could check by the path down to Hogsmeade…"
Harry grinned; Ron snorted; Hermione bit back a laugh, and began lecturing the younger girl on not sending people into the snow to freeze to death; Luna just smiled.