The sound of the alarm going off caused Abby's heart to sink.
How can it be morning already?
Lifting the covers over her head, she groaned loudly, wishing just for once that she could have a lie-in. Sleep had evaded her last night as she went to bed with a thousand thoughts swirling chaotically in her mind, nearly all of them having to do with one, oh-so-complicated man named Harry Potter.
She wasn't even sure how she'd managed to sleep a wink after the conversation they'd had. For Christ's sake, Harry was a father! Harry had children. Little human beings depended on Harry for survival.
This concept, no matter how she rearranged and reconstructed it in her mind, was still utterly bewildering.
But just like last night, these thoughts soon led to other, much more sombre ones. Thoughts of Harry and his unimaginable heartache. His troubled eyes, his defeated nature, his antisocial behaviour. It all made sense, in a way.
He'd lost the love of his life at the tender age of twenty-six. A single father of three children at twenty-six…
"Bloody hell," she breathed, shaking her head as she stared up at the ceiling.
She'd seen what losing a soulmate did to a person. It was a tragedy that she would wish upon no one.
The sound of the alarm going off once again caused an abrupt halt to her thoughts. Leaping out of bed, she rushed to get ready for work.
When Abby entered the kitchen not ten minutes later for a spot of breakfast, she immediately noticed Clara sitting at the table, casually sipping a cup of tea and staring at her with a small, knowing smile.
"What?" Abby said, grabbing a box of cereal.
When the girl remained silent, Abby chose to ignore her and continue eating her breakfast.
"Isn't there something you want to tell me?" Clara said, finally.
"Er...good morning?"
Her flatmate gave her a look that clearly indicated this wasn't what she was referring to.
"Who is he?" Clara said with one eyebrow raised.
"Who?" she said.
"There was obviously a bloke in here last night. Now, who is he?"
Abby choked slightly on the spoonful of milk she just swallowed. "How could you possibly know that?" she said, her voice coming out in a rasp as she continued to cough.
Clara plastered on that knowing smile once more. "Where to begin…" she said, steepling her fingers together. "The sitting room is much neater than it usually is, and there was an extra mug in the dish rack which means you had company over. And when I sat on the sofa last night, I could definitely pick up the scent of male aftershave. So…who is he?"
Abby stared at her for a moment in disbelief. "Imagine if you used those observational skills for good instead of evil," she said, causing Clara to smirk. "And he's just a friend of mine. So you can wipe that look off your face."
Clara rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner. "Right, 'just a friend'," she said, putting air quotes around the words. "Tell me, this friend of yours…is he fit?"
Abby groaned. "I'm not having this conversation. He really is just a friend, all right?"
"All right," the girl said with a shrug. "So, can I meet him, then?"
"No! Absolutely not," Abby said, cringing at the idea of her even being in the same room as Harry. The horror that would ensue was almost too frightful to think about. "You aren't going anywhere near him."
Clara pretended to pout. "Pity…I'm sure the three of us could have a lot of fun together."
"Right, that's it. I'm going to work," she said, ignoring the suggestive look Clara was trying to give her.
"I only meant as friends!" she called as Abby rushed out the door without another word.
She briskly walked the short trek to the café, knowing she was cutting it close on time thanks to her lovely flatmate. But she was able to breathe a sigh of relief when she noticed her boss wasn't in today.
"Hiya, Mags," she greeted her fellow co-worker who smiled at her in return.
It was a rather slow morning as Sunday mornings went, and the two girls took to chatting at a back table about such things as the lovely spring weather they were having to Maggie's relationship problems to Abby's decision to grow her hair out longer. It wasn't exactly riveting conversation, but it helped pass the time.
Abby was intently building a small tower of creamers when Maggie nudged her gently causing the whole thing to topple over.
"What?" she said, feeling slightly miffed.
"Your boyfriend's here," Maggie said with a sly look.
Abby snorted loudly, expecting to find some old geezer with no teeth waiting at the door. However, when she saw Harry taking a seat instead, she whipped back around to face a smiling Maggie.
"Harry's not my boyfriend," she whispered.
"I know," the girl said. "But you want him to be, don't you?"
"What? No!" she said at once. "What gave you that idea?"
Maggie shrugged. "You're always chatting with each other. Which is strange in itself, mind you. He barely ever said a word to anyone before you started working here."
Abby rolled her eyes. "It took me nearly a month to get more than two words out of him. And I was trying really hard," she said. "Anyway, I didn't do it because I fancy him or anything. We're just friends."
Why am I having to defend my relationship with Harry to everyone I meet today? she wondered in slight annoyance.
"Whatever you say," Maggie said, folding her arms across her chest. "I just noticed you two are awfully close."
"Yeah, well, it's nothing romantic, I can assure you."
With that, Abby stood up and headed over to Harry's table. She felt slightly nervous seeing him after last night, and sincerely hoped he didn't regret telling her his secret. If it even was a secret...she assumed it was, as it took him nearly three months to tell her. Well, it's not as if he told her many things. But this was quite an important thing, wasn't it?
"Wow…you look like you're thinking really hard," Harry said.
She suddenly realised that she'd been staring at him. "Sorry," she said with a smile. "How's it going?"
"Fine. You?"
"Better now that you're here," she said honestly, falling into the seat next to him. "I thought my brain was literally going to melt from boredom. No offense to Maggie or anything."
He looked at her blankly.
"You have no idea who Maggie is, do you?" she said.
"Sorry…no. Should I?"
"Seriously? You've been coming here for how long?" Abby said in exasperation. "Maggie is the waitress with long blonde hair who is currently at the back counter probably wondering why I keep saying her name."
He glanced up to where she indicated, then shook his head. "No, I don't think she heard you."
"Oh, good," she said.
She then cleared her throat softly and looked up at him. "Anyway Harry, I wanted to thank you for, you know, hanging out with me yesterday. Doing all the crazy stuff I asked. And also, more importantly…thank you for confiding in me. It means the world, it really does."
"Thank you for listening," he said, causing her to smile softly.
"I meant what I told you," she said. "I'd be willing to listen anytime. I won't ask questions, I won't interrupt… I won't do anything annoying, I promise."
Harry seemed to consider this for a moment. "But can you really promise that? The whole not being annoying bit?"
"Well…let's be realistic. This is still me we're talking about," she said with a laugh.
He smiled in return before folding his arms and glancing out the window.
Abby then perked up as she suddenly remembered something. "Say, do you have any pictures of your kids on you, by any chance?" she said. "I've been dying to see what they look like."
"Not at the moment, no," he said with an apologetic look.
She sighed. "Well, I better see them soon. Preferably live version, but I suppose I could settle for picture form now."
"I'll keep that in mind," he said. "So, I thought people came to places like this for coffee or dessert or something?"
"You mean you're not here for the scintillating conversation? Well, this is slightly awkward," she said. "I would have shut up months ago if I'd known."
"Don't even tease me," Harry said, causing her to grin before she rushed off to grab his order.
Since she still refused to serve him coffee on Sundays, Abby had taken to surprising him with something new every week. Deciding to play it safe today however, she cut a slice of treacle tart and placed it in front of him.
"Did you add anything weird to it?" he said.
"Not today."
"Promise?"
"Pinkie promise," she said, grabbing his little finger in hers.
"Why are you five?"
"Why are you bothered?"
Harry shook his head before delving into the plate in front of him.
Abby watched him in silence, tapping her fingers lightly against the table and occasionally switching up the rhythm.
"Can you just say whatever's on your mind, please?"
"Where are they now?" she blurted out.
Harry rolled his eyes. "At their grandparents' house. They usually stay the night on Saturdays."
Abby thanked the heavens above that she caught herself before asking if they were his parents. Of course they weren't…his parents were dead.
The thought caused an unpleasant lurch in her stomach. He was no stranger to death, it seemed.
"That's nice," she said with a smile, tracing a little figure eight on the table top.
"Abby," he said after a moment, causing her to look up. "I didn't tell you all that stuff so you could tip-toe around me. I told you because I consider you a friend. So just say whatever is on your mind and ask whatever questions you want to ask. I mean, I'm not saying I'll be able to answer everything, but you don't have to worry about offending me, all right?"
She swallowed thickly and nodded. "I'm sorry…I'm just afraid I'll say something wrong, and then you won't want anything to do with me anymore," she said.
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Well, you don't have to worry about that. You've been saying the wrong thing since I first met you, but I still find myself wanting your company. It's rather annoying actually."
Abby couldn't help but laugh. She wasn't sure why, but the words filled her with a sort of happiness she couldn't describe. It was almost like relief, but infinitely stronger.
Perhaps that's what drew her to Harry in the first place. The ability to be completely and wholeheartedly herself. She annoyed him, she bothered him, she got on his last nerve, but it didn't matter. He was still there. She couldn't believe he was still there.
Not being able to hold it any longer, Abby leaned over to wrap him up in a warm hug.
"Oh, for the love of..." Harry said, staring up at the ceiling. "I thought you said you wouldn't be making this a habit."
"I lied," she said, squeezing him tighter.
Suddenly remembering Clara's words from earlier, Abby took a discreet whiff of him and noted that he did, indeed, smell of aftershave. And fabric softener and deodorant and something soapy and clean. How her flatmate was able to pick up on that scent long after he had left, however, was beyond her.
She took one final whiff, finding it quite pleasant, before sitting up straight again. "Sorry," she said with a shrug. "It's these arms, I can't control them when they're in hugging mode."
Abby proceeded to do the robot, repeatedly hitting him across his chest or shoulders while Harry just stared at her with a deadpan expression, causing her to burst into a small fit of giggles.
"I can't decide what's worse," Harry said. "What you're doing, or the fact that you're making yourself laugh while doing it."
"I'm easily amused," she said, dropping her arms to her sides.
"I noticed."
At the sound of the bell tinkling on the door, Abby looked up and failed to suppress a frown. "Oh bugger, I actually have real customers."
"I'm going to head out, anyway," Harry said, reaching into his pocket for a couple of pounds.
She sighed. "All right, but if boredom causes my brain to melt into a pile of goo on the floor, you're the one who has to clean it up."
"Deal."
"Oh, wait! Before you go…" Abby said, producing her note pad and quickly jotting down her number. "I don't expect you to call me or anything. I mean you hardly ever use your mobile anyway. But you know, just for emergencies."
She handed him the slip of paper, and then slowly and discreetly pushed her notepad towards his end of the table. "Your turn," she said with an innocent smile.
Harry begrudgingly picked up the pen and scribbled down his number as well. "I don't expect you to call me or anything," he said, clearly mocking her. "Really, I don't expect it…So don't."
"You're a prat," she said with a smile.
"Thanks," he said, smiling brighter.
Abby watched as he stood up and walked out the door. He saluted her as he passed by the shop window, and she responded in kind before walking over to her new customers.
They were quite a young couple that came in occasionally. Very normal. They wouldn't want her sitting with them when she was bored or letting her choose their orders. She wouldn't share her dreams with them and they wouldn't share their secrets. Yes, they were very normal, indeed.
But she just really preferred the abnormal.
"So, Harry," Bill said over the steady din of the table. "Will you be making a speech for us tomorrow?"
The noise level dropped a bit as multiple pairs of eyes looked over in his direction.
Harry cleared his throat. "Erm, no. I think I've retired from my speech-making days."
He could see Hermione's shoulders slump a bit out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it and focused back on his dinner. Thankfully, Bill didn't push the subject. Harry really didn't feel like having this conversation again.
He'd spoken a few times at the War Memorial Ceremony that took place every second of May. It had taken much persuasion from many people, including Kingsley, the Minister for Magic himself. According to Hermione, he couldn't very well say no to the Minister. That didn't stop Harry from trying, though.
In the end, it was Ginny who managed to convince him.
After her death, though, many things in life began to seem pointless, and speech-making was definitely one of those things. He just didn't have the heart to do it anymore. And quite frankly, he thought it a feat for him to even show up.
"Do we have to go to school tomorrow, Dad?" James said later that night as he crawled under the covers.
"We've had this conversation already," Harry said. "The ceremony isn't until six. I'd much rather have you go to school and learn than sit around here all day and do nothing."
Al grinned at his brother from his side of the room. "Told you so," he said with a smug look.
"I already knew the answer. I was just asking anyway," James said, crossing his arms.
"Well, that's stupid."
"Yeah, just like your face," James said, throwing a well-aimed pillow at him and causing the boy to immediately erupt in protest.
"Dad!"
"He started it!" James said at once.
"I didn't even say anything!"
"It was the way you said it!"
"You hit my eye!"
"GOOD!"
"All right, enough!" Harry said just loud enough to carry over their shouts.
"But Dad!" they said together.
Harry sighed, rubbing his temple tiredly. "In this house, we treat each other with respect and we don't shout," he said, looking them both in the eye with a stern expression. "James, don't throw things at your brother. Albus, don't give attitude. Do I make myself clear?"
Both boys grumbled quietly to themselves as they glanced away from him.
"Excellent. Now, if we could just have one night without any fighting, that would be lovely," he said.
"Daddy?" said a quiet voice in the doorway.
Harry exhaled heavily, closing his eyes for a moment in defeat. "What are you doing awake, flower?" he said, as she padded her way into the room with her footed pyjamas and climbed onto his lap.
"I heard shouting," she said, curling up against him with her stuffed hippogriff clutched firmly in her hand.
James and Al immediately groaned, very much aware that Lily had just gotten them into even more trouble.
"Well?" Harry said, looking between them. "Do you have something to say to your sister?"
"No," James muttered, playing a loose thread on his bed sheet.
A small grin appeared on Al's face which he attempted to cover up with his hand.
"Excuse me?" Harry said, his eyebrows raised. "I'm not sure I heard you, correctly."
James sighed and looked up at Lily. "Sorry."
"Sorry, Lils," Al followed.
She giggled, as if the whole idea of her older brothers apologising to her was silly.
"Wonderful," Harry said with a sigh as he stood up with Lily in his arms. "What do you say, Lils, should we kiss them goodnight?"
She nodded enthusiastically in response.
Harry walked up to James and leant down to kiss him. "Goodnight, you little Marauder," he said, causing the boy's face to split in a wide grin.
Lily placed a kiss on his forehead, too before Harry walked them over to Albus. "And goodnight, you wise little warlock," he whispered, causing Al to giggle before he received his kisses as well.
"Love you," Harry said quietly, extinguishing the lights with his wand as he walked towards the door.
Murmurs of 'love you too, Dad' could be heard as he closed the door behind him and walked into the corridor with a sleepy Lily in his arms.
"What am I, Daddy?" she said, as he placed her gently in her bed.
"Hmm?"
"Jamie's a marder and Alby's a warlock," she said. "What am I?"
Harry smiled warmly, brushing her bright red locks from her eyes. "You're my little flower, of course," he said, bending down to attack her cheeks with kisses.
The sound of her laughter tickled at his very heart. It was the sweetest and most delightful of melodies, and it never failed to make everything else in the world just disappear.
"I love you, Lils," he whispered. "Sweet dreams."
When Harry entered the house the next morning after dropping the kids off at school, he immediately noticed the pair of shoes placed neatly next to the door.
"Hermione?" he called out loudly.
"Up here!" said a muffled voice.
He headed over to the staircase and spotted her walking down the steps, levitating a large laundry basket in front of her.
"Really?"
She smiled innocently at him. "I thought I'd stop by seeing as we're both free today."
"What and you got bored?" he said.
"See...I accidentally stepped on one of Lily's toys when I flooed in, so I started to tidy up a bit, and then, well…one thing led to another, I suppose," she said as he followed her into the utility room. "You don't mind, do you? It's just that I noticed the pile of clothes was rather large."
"I was going to get around to it."
"I'm sure you would have," she said in that slightly patronising way that only Hermione could perfect. "I know you hate doing laundry, but if you wait any longer, the kids might have to go starkers."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Well, do you want anything to drink?" he said, knowing there was no point in arguing.
"I just put the kettle on, actually," she said.
"Of course you did," he said, heading toward the kitchen.
He rarely got offended by anything Hermione did anymore, no matter how overbearing. After all, she'd been doing things for him since he was eleven. But that didn't stop the slight irritation he felt whenever she claimed that certain things just needed a 'woman's touch'. Whatever that meant. His depraved man's touch seemed to suffice just fine, in his humble opinion.
Adding a bit of extra sugar in her mug just to annoy her, Harry set off in the direction he came from. When he reached the open doorway, however, he froze in his step.
Hermione, having just emptied out his trouser pockets, was holding a slip of paper in her hand and staring at it curiously. He watched her place it on the washing machine behind her and eyeing it for a moment before returning to her task.
Harry leant back against the wall and mentally cursed. She'd found Abby's number. He couldn't remember if she had actually written her name on it or not, but what were the odds that a man would give him his telephone number? No, Hermione would know it was a woman. And she would wonder, as she was most likely doing now, why he hadn't just binned it straight away.
Before she could see him, he hastily retreated back to the kitchen, wanting to delay this conversation for as long as possible. What was he going to tell her? Would Hermione understand? He always knew he would have to explain to his family eventually, but not now… not when he was only just beginning to see Abby as a real friend.
Harry dropped into a chair and stared intently at his cup of tea without really seeing it. It was strange. He felt a bit like a student in trouble with his professor—a pretty accurate depiction of his relationship with Hermione, in general.
He heard a throat clear at the door and looked up to see her walk in with a small smile on her face. "Tea?" she said.
Harry passed her mug over as she sat down across from him. He saw her cringe slightly at the sweet taste, but she didn't say anything. Indeed, they both sat in silence for quite a while before he finally spoke up.
"So, how are the kids?" he said.
"Fine," she said, nodding. "Yeah, they're erm…"
"Fine?"
"Exactly," she said.
He was just waiting for her to finally burst and ask him what he knew she was dying to ask him. He figured it would be any second now. Hermione wasn't exactly known for her self-restraint.
"So Harry, I, erm…well I found something while doing laundry. I wasn't sure if you wanted it, so I just left it on the washing machine," she said in a casual voice. Too casual.
Harry mentally high-fived himself for calling it. "What did you find?" he said, taking a sip of his tea and pretending to look confused.
"Erm, well it—it looked like a telephone number," she said hesitantly.
"Looked like?"
Hermione threw him an annoyed look. "It was."
He exhaled then and leaned back against his chair. "And I assume you want to know whose it is?"
"Abby," she said quietly, looking up at him. "That's what it said. Who's Abby?"
Harry didn't respond right away. "Why does it matter?"
Hermione sighed in frustration. "It matters, Harry. Let's be honest here, this isn't the first time a woman has given you her number before. And normally you'd just throw it away, not carry it around in your pocket. Whoever this Abby person is, she's obviously close to you," she said.
"Who is she?" Hermione added in a much gentler voice.
He squirmed a bit under her gaze, suddenly feeling pity for Rose and Hugo…and Ron.
"She's…she's someone—a friend. She's a muggle. Doesn't know who I am, obviously," he said.
Hermione creased her eyebrows as if concentrating on a difficult problem. "Where did you meet her?"
"Well, before I pick up Lily from school, I usually go to a shop nearby for some coffee. You know I don't like sitting in the cafeteria at the Ministry anymore," he told her to which she nodded in understanding. "Anyway, she works there as a waitress."
"And you just…became friends?"
Harry laughed slightly at the thought. "Not exactly, no. She tried for a long time to get me to talk—she's quite chatty," he said. "But obviously I wasn't so willing."
Hermione sat there listening with rapt attention. She didn't interject, so he figured she wanted him to continue.
"Er...I dunno. I've known her for a while now. I suppose I just grew more comfortable and started talking to her a bit. She's funny and sort of weird," he said. "And she doesn't know who I am…which is nice."
"And do you—what I mean to say is—Harry, do you fancy her?" Hermione said, barely above a whisper.
"What? No. God, no," he said, shaking his head. "See, this is why I never told anyone. You'd all just jump to conclusions."
"I'm sorry, okay. I had to ask," she said trying to placate him. "But Harry, even if you did—"
"I don't."
Hermione sighed. "Yes, I know. But even if you did…that would be okay, too," she said, looking him in the eye. "No one expects you to be alone forever. Not even the Weasleys."
Harry felt something akin to an iron-clad grip seize around his heart. Something about the idea of other people, his own family, expecting him to fall in love again one day just made him uneasy. Did they already forget that he'd fallen in love once? Ginny was his soulmate. Did that mean nothing to them? Ginny was…she was…she was his Ginny.
He shut his eyes, feeling that familiar sensation of drowning. They didn't understand, nobody understood.
"Harry," Hermione said carefully, laying a hand gently on his arm.
He refused to look up at her. "I'm just going to go jump in the shower," he told her in a strained voice, turning around without another glance and heading up the stairs.
He did just that, taking an extra long time underneath the hot water and letting it soothe the muscles of his back. The steam seemed to help clear his head a bit, and he suddenly felt guilty for leaving Hermione in such an abrupt manner.
Of course she would ask if he had feelings for Abby, any person would. But the idea just felt so bizarre. He simply could not imagine himself with any other woman. He didn't want to. Did that make him strange somehow? Was it normal for people to fall in love again after the death of a wife or husband?
Who could he possibly ask about that? His parents had died together. Remus and Tonks had died together. With a sudden jolt, the answer finally came to him.
Andromeda.
Andi would understand. She'd understood from the very beginning when nobody else could.
Harry breathed in and out deeply, finally feeling some sense of reassurance. He would ask her about it. Not tonight, but soon. He wasn't exactly planning on any major changes in his life to occur in the next couple of days, but perhaps it would be good to share his thoughts if only for the mere satisfaction of knowing he wasn't alone.
After stepping out of the shower, he got dressed quickly, using his wand to dry his hair and causing it to stick at odd angles as usual. But there was nothing he could do for it. Once he was finished, Harry dashed down the steps and was relieved to find that Hermione hadn't left.
She was curled up on the sofa reading a book, and he walked over to her. "Hey."
She looked up and gave him a small smile. "Hey."
Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, budge over, then," he said.
Hermione smiled brighter this time and moved to the other end to let him sit. "Are you feeling better?" she said.
He leaned forward against his knees and nodded. "I'm sorry about before."
"I'm the one who should be apologising," she said, closing her book and sitting up straight. "You told me she was just your friend, and I should've taken your word for it."
He only shrugged in response.
"I just…" Hermione paused, as if searching for the right words. "Maybe I hoped…I just don't want you to be alone forever."
She took one of his hands in hers and clasped it tightly. "It doesn't mean you have to let Ginny go. The heart is capable of an infinite amount of love, Harry. Just remember that."
He looked up into her warm brown eyes. "How long did it take you to come with that line, then?" he said in amusement.
Hermione let out a small laugh. "The entire time you were upstairs," she said."Good though, isn't it?"
"It was all right," he said with shrug, sounding unimpressed.
She gave him a mock-glare before breaking out into a smile.
"Hermione," he said, suddenly. "Could I get your advice on something?"
"Of course," she said, giving him her full attention.
Harry ran a hand through his hair and leant back against the sofa. "Well, I only just recently told Abby about the kids, and now she really wants to meet them. But, I dunno…what would I tell them? I just feel like it would be weird somehow."
"You're really considering it?" Hermione asked in surprise. "I mean, I'm not saying it's a bad idea. I just never thought—well, what with your overprotectiveness—"
"I'm not overprotective," Harry said, snapping his head towards her.
"I didn't mean it like that," she said, placing a hand on his arm. "Just that you're protective over your kids when it comes to strangers, is all."
"Well, I'd like to think so, yeah," he said, with a bit of an affronted tone. "Anyway, that's just the thing. She's not really a stranger anymore, is she? I mean, I've known her for a while now. I've even hung out with her a couple of times."
"You what?" Hermione said, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Wow...I never thought I'd see the day where you'd do something social with someone besides me or Ron."
"Yeah, you're hilarious," he said as she chuckled at her own joke.
"Sorry," she said, clearing her throat. "It's just strange to think about. She must be something, then, eh?"
Harry considered this for a moment. "She's definitely…something," he said.
Hermione smiled softly at him. "I'm happy for you, Harry. I know it's not easy for people to gain your trust. But this Abby seems well on her way. I'd quite like to meet her someday, if that's all right with you."
"Yeah, of course," he said, feeling more relieved than he thought he would at Hermione's acceptance.
"As for the kids," she added. "For now at least, I think it's best if you bring them to her, instead of her to them. Take them to the café with you sometime. It would be perfectly normal, and I'm sure they'd appreciate the desserts."
Harry nodded as he considered it. "Yeah, I suppose you're right."
Hermione then leaned over to give him a warm embrace which he returned somewhat awkwardly. "What's this for?" he said, patting her back.
"You just looked like you needed to be hugged," she said into his shoulder.
"Can you describe this look so I can avoid it in future?"
Hermione pinched his arm rather painfully before standing up. "You're such a prat," she said. "I'm leaving."
"Hey, you're not going anywhere," Harry said, throwing up his legs on the table in front of him. "That laundry isn't going to do itself."
"In your dreams, Potter," she called behind her as she stepped into the grate. "I'll see you tonight. Try and look presentable."
"You as well, eh?" he called back, smiling at his own joke.
"Dad! Can you do up my laces? They're not working," Al whined.
"How are they not working?" James said. "You're the one that's not working."
"That doesn't even make sense!"
James merely pushed his brother aside. "Dad, I can't find my bow tie. I looked everywhere."
"Ouch! Daddy that hurt," Lily said, glaring at him in the mirror.
Harry groaned, deciding to forgo the brush altogether and comb her hair through with his fingers.
"Dad, did you hear me?"
"Dad!"
"Yes, all right, all right!" Harry said. "Just give me one second."
He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt, putting all his concentration into neatly tying the top half of Lily's hair with the flowery hair band.
"How does it look?" he asked James, who was sitting next to him on the bed.
"How should I know?" the boy said with a shrug.
"I think it looks fine," Al said. "Nana or Grandmum can always fix it later."
"Good point," Harry said. "Okay Lils, you're all set. Please, please stay exactly as you are until we have to leave."
Lily nodded eagerly before running out of the room, and he sighed, knowing his pleas would go unheard.
When Harry turned back around, the boys immediately erupted with their demands once more. It was his own fault, really. Whenever they had to go anywhere, chaos would ensue in the Potter household, and even though he swore each time that he would start them getting ready earlier, he never actually followed through.
By the time they were all fully dressed, they only had a few minutes to spare for the portkey.
"Everyone touching it?" Harry asked for probably the fourth time. "Don't let go until we reach."
The uncomfortable sensation of being jerked in the navel swept through each of them until they were deposited haphazardly outside the castle grounds.
He could see small groups of people walking ahead of them and some still arriving behind. It was a rather pleasant spring day. The air was mild and breezy and the sun was still high up in the sky.
"Dad, do you think we'll get to see Teddy?" Al said from his side.
"Not sure," he said. "Only 6th and 7th years usually attend the ceremony."
"Can we sneak up to see him, then?" James said, his eyes alight with mischief.
Harry chuckled. "We'll see," he said with a wink.
When they reached the Great Hall, he could immediately spot the Weasleys and headed over in their direction, trying his very best to avoid eye contact with anyone else.
He'd always shunned the public eye to a certain extent, but ever since Ginny's death, he avoided it like the plague. Reporters just ate up the tragic story of the Boy-Who-Lived. Ate it up and spit it out for all the world to see. It sickened him more than anything that had ever been written about him before.
After they had greeted the rest of the family, Harry took a seat next to Ron with Lily on his other side.
"Mr. Potter."
He looked up to see a man he vaguely recognised from the Ministry.
"Will you be speaking for us tonight, I hope?" he said, reaching over to shake his hand.
"I won't, no. Sorry," Harry said, trying to sound more apologetic than he felt.
"Shame, that," another woman said, having overheard the conversation. "Perhaps next year, then? Mr. Welby and I always did enjoy your speeches, Mr. Potter. "
The man on her arm grunted in agreement, nodding his head respectfully toward Harry before pulling his wife away.
"Mr. and Mrs. Welby have you convinced yet, mate? Thinking of heading up to the stage?" Ron said with a grin.
Harry chuckled. "Yeah, Kingsley's going to have a hard time holding me back," he said.
"Honestly you two, they were just being polite," Hermione hissed from Ron's other side. "You always did give good speeches, Harry."
He rolled his eyes at her. "You practically wrote every single one."
"No, I gave you talking points," she said, holding up her finger. "There's a difference."
"Whatever."
But the Welbys weren't the last to approach him, nor were they the first. Every year, multitudes of people came up to him at various points in the night, some to thank him, others to ask about his welfare, some to simply greet him. He didn't mind it, really. Overall, they were pleasant people who simply wanted to show their appreciation for what he'd done. He still felt sort of awkward though when men and women who were clearly much older than him treated him with an obnoxious level of respect. Harry honestly didn't think he deserved it much, but there was no point in making that argument again.
Kingsley gave the main speech that night, honouring all those who fought in the war, both dead and living. And inspiring everyone to continue toward the betterment of the Wizarding world. That was the main gist of it, anyway. There was really only so much one could say without repeating themselves every year.
"…And finally, may we always remember that the strength of our society remains in the hands of the youth. We need not look any further than our own Mr. Harry Potter, who defeated one of the greatest dark wizards this world has ever known, at the tender age of seventeen—"
Kingsley paused as a thunder of applause broke out within the Hall.
Harry felt George lean forward and ruffle his hair from behind him, causing Angelina to smack him on the arm and mutter something that sounded like 'it's already messy enough!'
But Harry was grateful to him as he was never really quite sure what to do during moments like these. He'd usually just shift his eyes around with an awkward half-smile on his face, waiting desperately for everyone to stop clapping.
He exhaled in relief when the attention was finally averted back to Kingsley.
"Daddy, did he just say your name?" Lily whispered.
A large grin split across his face. "Nah, I think it was someone else," he whispered back.
Harry was standing near the entrance of the Great Hall during the reception, very much ready to make a quick escape. But something out of the corner of his eye made him glance suspiciously at the large oak doors. He was currently in the middle of a one-sided conversation with a fellow Auror by the name of Ellsworth who seemed very adamant about reopening a three-year old case.
"You know what," Harry said, clapping the man on the shoulder. "Have it on my desk by Friday, I'll look into it."
With that, he turned around and walked away, hoping that nobody would follow him. When he reached the door, he leant against it casually with a smirk on his face.
"How'd you know?" cried an exasperated voice.
The face of Teddy Lupin materialised before Harry's eyes, turquoise hair and all.
"Auror skills," he said, causing the boy to roll his eyes. "And I saw the door move."
"How could you possibly have seen that? You weren't even facing my direction," Teddy said, fully removing the Invisibility Cloak from around his body.
"Peripheral vision," Harry said with a shrug. "Just face it, Ted. You're never going to be able to pull one on me, so you might as well quit trying."
Teddy scowled for a moment before his face melted into a wide grin, and he rushed into his Harry's waiting arms for a hug.
"You know I'm only doing this because no one can see us," Teddy said in a muffled voice.
"Shh," Harry said, caressing his hair. "No need for lies."
Teddy laughed heartily as the two of them sat down on a bench in the Entrance Hall.
"How are you holding up today?" Harry said, turning his head to look at him.
"Fine," the boy shrugged. "Sort of rubbish how I can't go to the ceremony even though it's my parents who are being honoured. But Minnie won't budge."
"You're not missing out on much, to be honest. Kingsley pretty much says the same speech every year," Harry said. "And stop calling her 'Minnie', she's going to think I taught you that."
"Yeah and Merlin forbid you drop down from the pedestal she keeps you on," he said with a roll of his eyes.
"Oi, you," Harry said, trying to sound menacing. "It took me years to get on that pedestal."
Teddy snorted loudly before getting up to take a peek inside the Hall. "Where are the little buggers, then?"
"Nowhere near you, if you use that kind of language."
"Sorry, where are your darling children, Mr. Potter?" he said, sounding very much like a proper old English woman.
"They're in that far corner over there. Come on, put the Cloak on so Minnie doesn't see you," he said, causing Teddy to grin.
Harry turned around and led the way, smiling softly. Sitting through hours of awkward conversation and uncomfortable attention wasn't exactly his idea of a good time. But it was more than worth it every year just to have these few brief moments with his godson.
"So worth it," Harry said quietly as he watched his kids squeal with delight at the sight of their favourite colourful godbrother.