CHAPTER 6

"Hi. What are you doing?"

Harry had just woken up and was on his way to the kitchen when he bumped into Ginny in the living room, crouching near the sofa.

"Just cleaning up a bit."

"I thought you had practice today."

"I do."

Silence.

"Ginny…"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Are you still mad at me about last night?"

"No, Harry, I'm not mad at you about last night."

But her reassurance seemed fake, so he insisted. "Are you sure?"

Reluctantly, she stopped her cleaning attempts and got up, giving Harry her full attention. "I only have to be in the field at two. What are you going to do on your day off?"

"Oh, nothing special," Harry shrugged. "Thought I'd catch up on some reports."

"So you're going to be working on your day off?" asked Ginny in a sceptical tone.

"I might drop by the Ministry to talk to Hermione," said Harry.

"Oh, really? What for?" she asked with fake innocence.

Harry gave her a look which clearly said he could see right through her charade. "For being an arse, generally."

Her expression softened and she gave him a brief kiss on the lips. "What's new?"

However, Harry never got to respond to his girlfriend's comment, because James and Lily entered the living room, deep in conversation.

"… which is none of your business, James!" said Lily, visibly annoyed. "Honestly, you're my husband, not my keeper!"

"I'm not trying to control you!" said James "I just worry about you!"

"Well, you don't have to! I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself," assured Lily.

"Why do you have to be so stubborn? I'm just trying to help!"

"I didn't ask for it!" Lily shouted.

"What's going on?" Harry asked Ginny, looking at the couple in front of him shooting glares at each other, completely obliviously to the other two people in the room.

"They've been like that, lately. Snapping at each other," Ginny shrugged. "I'm assuming this is another pointless fight."

"They look like an old married couple," observed Harry with a weird expression on his face.

Ginny looked at him. "They are an old married couple."

"What? They're not that old!"

"Harry, they're old enough to be your p—". But Ginny never got to finish that sentence, because James and Lily's fight seemed to be escalating quickly.

"Oh God, you're such a narcissistic prick!" shouted Lily. "You can't even see how blind you are!"

"How did you even reach that conclusion? For being worried about the woman I love, for wanting to keep her safe? You should be glad that I'm willing to sacrifice myself like that for you!" James retorted, eyes red and voice hoarse. In the short period of time Harry had come to know him, he had never really seen him like this. Harry always thought James was rather limp, following Lily around like a lost puppy. He was disappointed to find that this version of his Dad wasn't very assertive. But looking at them now, Harry realised that maybe he didn't know him very well.

"Wow, if you're so perfect why don't you marry yourself?" shouted Lily, waving her hands in an angry manner. Harry was sure that if she could, Lily would use those hands to throttle James.

"Do you want to see the Quidditch pitch?" asked Harry, making everybody in the room look at him in surprise. James and Lily seemed to notice him for the first time.

"What?"

Harry didn't know what led him to say that. Or to interrupt their fight, honestly. He usually stayed out of other people's business. But James and Lily had been pretty complacent with everything. Maybe they deserved to have something nice. Being cooped inside the house all this time was starting to get to them and it wasn't fair. Plus, their shouting had been giving him a headache.

Yes, that's it. Blame it on their shouting. Sweep it under the rug. It's worked this far.

"You have a Quidditch pitch?" asked James, the fight with Lily temporarily forgotten.

"Yes, mainly for Ginny," said Harry. "But I use it sometimes too."

"You play Quidditch?"

"Do you want to see it or do you prefer to just keep repeating everything I say?" asked Harry irritably, making Ginny beside him roll her eyes at his childishness.

"Lead the way."

xxx

Showing them the Quidditch pitch seemed to be a good thing for James and Lily. Well, James mostly. Lily didn't care much for Quidditch or flying in general, but Harry could tell that the fresh air returned colour to her cheeks, life to her eyes. Her whole demeanour seemed to change. As if her body felt lighter and the world more bearable.

As she sat there, sitting under a tree, by the improvised Quidditch pitch Harry had set up in the back of the house for Ginny once, watching them, Harry could swear she looked almost peaceful. As if she felt renewed, content for the time being. As if she could breathe again. She even laughed as James tried – and failing miserably – to take the quaffle from Ginny. He was a good flyer, but no match for an active professional player.

Harry had fun too. He hadn't played Quidditch in ages. He almost forgot the sensation of being in the air… the rush, the adrenaline, the freedom. As if he had left all his worries, his demons on the ground. In the air, Harry felt weightless, invincible.

I should have done this a long time ago.

He should have let them have this a long time ago.

The pitch was concealed by trees and general vegetation, giving them enough privacy so they stayed hidden from prying eyes. No one was going to see them unless they knew where to look. A small risk Harry was willing to take.

After the game, their stomachs started to grumble so they called it a day and went inside. Harry had been ready, frying pan in hand, but Lily insisted on preparing lunch, to which he had made no objection.

They were getting ready to eat when the doorbell rang.

"I'll go check it out," offered Harry as he got up from the table.

They heard the door being opened and Harry's voice, as well as another one, softer and more feminine.

"Do you know any muggles?" asked James, thinking it was weird that a wizard would ring a doorbell.

"Well, this is a mixed neighbourhood. We have wizards, as well as muggles living here, so we have to keep up appearances," explained Ginny. "Some of our muggle neighbours are extremely nosy, it would seem weird if we didn't have any visitors. We try not to attract too much attention to ourselves. Hence, the doorbell. We ask people to use it sometimes."

"Why don't you just move to a wizarding neighbourhood?" asked James. "I mean, you're both wizards."

Lily kicked him under the table.

"Harry likes the anonymity," answered Ginny. "Not being surrounded by wizards all the time… It brings him comfort."

"Why? Is he some sort of celebrity?" James replied with a smirk, managing to avoid another kick from Lily. "What?" he asked, facing her.

"You're being rude," Lily pointed out. "So what if the man likes the muggles? I think it's nice. They're people too."

"I'm not saying I have anything against them! I'm just saying that going to all this trouble to hide their true identities doesn't make much sense."

"What can I say? We like muggles," Ginny shrugged. "My Dad is a bit obsessed with them, actually. He used to work for the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office. Has this huge collection of muggle objects at home and tries to reuse them with magic. He once made a car fly. Drives Mum crazy." Ginny chuckled, feeling nostalgic. "He can't get enough of them, old Dad. 'Till this day, he still pesters Harry with all his questions."

"Why would your Dad ask Harry questions about muggles?" asked James, confused. He was thinking about the television and all the muggle appliances he saw in the house. "Is he muggle-born?"

"No," said Ginny. "But he was brought up by muggles."

"You do miss it, I guess," said Lily with a dreamy look on her face. "My parents are both muggles. I didn't know I was a witch until I got my Hogwarts' letter. I haven't been in the muggle world for a long time. So I understand wanting to surround yourself with something that was once the only thing you knew."

"I didn't know you missed the muggle world that much," said James with surprise. "I thought it remined you of your sister."

"Just because I don't talk to her, doesn't mean I don't miss that world, James. I lived in it for eleven years."

"You don't keep in touch with your parents?" Ginny interrupted.

"My parents died a long time ago," answered Lily. "I have a sister. She's a muggle. But we don't get along. I know she got married and had a son, but we haven't spoken in years. I've never even met the child. "

"Doesn't Harry keep in touch with his parents?" asked James with innocent curiosity. "Is that why he was raised by mugg—?"

But James never got to finish that sentence, since he was attacked by a mash of potatoes and broccoli, that flew from God-knows-where and landed right on his head with a splash. Ginny laughed.

"Teddy! That's not very nice!" Harry scolded with little enthusiasm. He was back. But he was not alone. A kid with black hair and striking green eyes stood beside James, with a spoon on his hand and a devilish grin on his face.

"Ah-ha! Got'cha!" he cried out, with a triumphant look on his face.

"Teddy!" said Ginny with surprise. "What's he doing here?" she asked Harry. "I thought Andromeda was only supposed to drop him off tomorrow."

"She's not feeling very well and asked if we could take him a day sooner," said Harry. "I think the treatment isn't working, she looked rather pale," he added with a worried expression.

Harry and Ginny's conversation, however, was interrupted by a scream and fits of laughter. It looked like their guests were engrossed in their own thing. Teddy was on James' lap, jumping up and down, making him squirm under the child's weight. Lily was covering her mouth with her hands, undecided between looking surprised and amused.

"Okay, kid, I think that's enough. I can't feel my legs anymore." James was trying to get some distance from Teddy but the eight-year-old seem fixated on plucking all the hair from the Auror's head.

Teddy laughed triumphally, holding a few black hairs on his hand. "I need this for Polly's juice!"

"The what?"

"The juice! For Polly! It's supposed to be really good, tastes just like strawberries, which is my favourite fruit!" said Teddy excitedly. "He's going to teach me how to do it and then we're all going to drink Polly's juice," he added, pointing a finger at Harry.

Harry was laughing hard, delighted at the sight, but stopped abruptly when Ginny looked at him.

"It's called Pollyjuice," corrected Ginny, still eyeing Harry. "Not Polly's juice, Teddy,".

"Yes, it's juice for Polly!" Teddy cried out, still celebrating on James' lap, who wore a painful expression on his face.

"Pollyjuice is the name of the potion. It helps us take the appearance of another person," Ginny explained, trying to hide her amusement. "There's no one named Polly."

Teddy's face fell.

"So it doesn't taste like strawberries?" he pouted.

"No, sorry, buddy. It actually tastes like vomit." It was Harry who answered, having enough experience with the potion himself.

"Ewww, I don't want to taste vomit!"

xxx

Harry had a feeling something big was happening, only someone had forgotten to tell him what it was.

The next few days were very confusing. Ginny was staying home for a couple of days before she had to go to Ireland, yet it seemed to Harry that they kept missing each other. When he woke up in the morning, she was still sleeping and when he arrived at night, she was already in bed. He could had sworn Ginny was avoiding him.

One Wednesday morning, he woke up alone, though. And when he went down to the kitchen, he saw his girlfriend and Lily, deep in conversation. What they had to say to each other, he had no idea.

Women, always manage to find something to talk about.

Dismissing it as probably being girl talk – whatever the hell that meant – Harry thought nothing of it. Until, one evening, when he caught the two redheads together, heads down, whispering to each other, only to stop abruptly when he entered the room.

"Morning, sweetie," Ginny greeted, giving him a sincere, if not a bit forced, smile. "Would you like a cup of tea?"

Harry arched an eyebrow. Ginny never called him sweetie. Plus, she was holding a cup of coffee.

If Harry had been suspicious before, he now was certain. They were up to something.

He could have not been more right, for when Saturday evening came, and Harry was in his study looking at some crime scene photographs, that's when it happened.

The doorbell rang. Harry ignored it at first. He didn't want to be interrupted; his concentration was needed. Plus, he wasn't expecting anyone, so whoever it was, he or she was probably for Ginny.

The bell rang again.

"Ginny?" Harry called out. "Could you get that?"

Silence. Interrupted by the doorbell. Again.

"Ginny?"

Thinking that the only way to have peace and quiet again was for Harry to answer the door himself, he got up and walked towards the front door. Then, he went back and put the photographs he was looking at in a drawer, hidden away from prying eyes. He, then, proceeded to enchant said drawer with a camouflage spell. Just in case James decided to come snooping.

The other day, Harry had caught James in the basement with a very suspicious expression on his face.

"Bathroom," he had said before Harry could ask him what he was doing.

So now he kept his work hidden (he dealt with confidential information after all). And the basement locked. Just in case James felt the urge.

The bell was still ringing and Harry's patience was wearing thin, hence why he answered the door with a scowl, which turned quickly into a face of surprise.

Luna Lovegood was on his porch.

"Hello, Harry," she greeted in that dreamy voice of hers. "Can we come in?"

We?

Harry's brain was trying to absorb the fact that Luna was at his door, wearing a yellow sundress which clashed horribly with her blonde hair, giving her skin an unpleasant, pallid undertone. On her ears were earrings made of, Harry suspected, real radishes.

"Er…"

"Hey there, Harry. We're not early, are we?" asked Neville, who was accompanied by Hannah. Without waiting for a reply, the couple made their way inside the house, followed by Luna, who stopped to ask him if he was okay ("Maybe you were attacked by a Wrackspurt. I thought I felt one zooming around in here.").

"Hi, Harry," said Seamus Finnigan. Seamus Finnigan? "Congratulations."

What the—?

Soon a sea of people was passing through him with greetings and congratulations, making Harry even more confused as to why they all seemed to be getting inside his house.

All the Weasleys were there – Molly, Arthur, George and his fiancé Angelina; Bill, Fleur and little Victoire; even Percy stood pompously by the fireplace with his wife Penelope. They were talking with Ernie Macmillan and Susan Bones, who were holding hands. Since when were they a thing?

Since when do I care?

A lot of Harry's friends from Hogwarts were there too. Katie Bell, Oliver Wood, Alicia Spinnet, Demelza Robins, it seemed the whole Gryffindor Quidditch team had shown up… Dean Thomas sat by the television with a petite blonde who he'd never met. Even Hagrid sat by the sofa (taking up all of the space) with a mug of mead in his hand. Harry noticed that Parvati Patil chatted excitedly with… Lavender Brown. Ugh, now he would have to make small talk with her. It wasn't enough to see her at work, now he would have to put up with her in his own house too.

Andromeda passed by Harry and gave him a tired smile. Teddy jumped him and gave him a tight hug, before walking away to chase Victoire ("We're playing catch!").

What is happening?

"Nice party, huh?"

Harry almost jumped at the sound. He was so distracted he hadn't realized someone had approached him. A black-haired man was standing beside him with a smug expression. He looked vaguely familiar.

"Who are you?" he asked, rudely.

"Don't tell me you don't recognize me, Harry," said the man with a smirk. "Surely a tough guy like you, top Auror, would see right through a transforming charm."

"James?"

"Tonight, I'm Jack, your work friend from Ireland."

"You don't have an accent," Harry observed. "And I don't have work friends from Ireland."

James shrugged, making it clear he couldn't care less.

Harry looked at him closely. "What happened to your face?"

His eyes were still hazel but had acquired a more roundly shape and his nose seemed to have been enlarged by many inches. His hair, which now had the shade of a light brown, seemed tidier than usual.

"Ginny decided it was safer if we changed our appearances a little bit, so we'd be less recognizable. It was the condition for attending the party," James replied, as he took a sip of his butterbeer.

"Which is being held because…?"

"You, of course. It's all about you, after all," James replied. Harry had a sense he was enjoying this a little too much. "Congratulations, by the way. Perhaps now you'll be able to actually do something about… our situation."

"What are you talking about?" asked Harry, confused. What was happening? Why were all these people at his house and why did they keep on congratulate him?

"How the mighty have fallen! It sucks, doesn't it? To not have a clue about what's going on?" asked James. "It seems the roles are reversed. Now it's me who seems to be in possession of knowledge you don't have."

Harry glared at him and was about to tell James exactly where to put his sodding knowledge, when he saw Ginny talking to Luna.

"There you are," he said when he approached her. Pulling her away by the arm, he added. "What did you do?"

"Oh, Harry! What do you think?" asked Ginny.

"What do I think? About what? The fact that our house was invaded by thousands of people for reasons I'm yet to understand?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Oh, how dramatic. Our house wasn't invaded. This is what a surprise party looks like."

"Yeah, that much I gathered," said Harry, trying to control his temper. "Why wasn't I informed of said party?"

"Well, if I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise, would it? Lily and I organized the whole thing and I invited all your friends. I hope I didn't forget anyone." She was smiling widely and seemed very proud of her achievement.

"Why would you throw me a surprise party?" asked Harry.

"Because of your promotion, of course," Ginny explained. "I have to admit I was surprised when Robards first told me. I thought you'd been trying to escape the job. But I guess you changed your mind."

Robards.

Inside, Harry was seething.

"He looks far too comfortable over there," said Harry, pointing at James, laughing loudly with George and Angelina in the corner.

"Oh, they begged me to come. What was I supposed to do? Lock them up in their room like an unwanted dog? Besides, they look different from twenty-one-year-old James and Lily Potter, they've aged," said Ginny. "I just tweaked them a little bit, to be on the safe side. You and James still look far too much alike. People might've started asking questions."

"Ginny, it's too risky," Harry warned with wide eyes.

"Oh relax," Ginny reassured, touching his arm. "We arranged fake names and background stories."

"Ginny!"

He couldn't believe her! This was no joke! The way she described it… like they were playing Aurors.

"Harry," continued Ginny, "James' an Auror and Lily knows how to handle herself. Give them some credit. They can do this. Look how relaxed he looks."

"I still don't like it."

"Well, deal with it, because— what is she doing here?"

"Who?" Following Ginny's gaze, Harry saw two women entering the living room, looking around, feeling a little misplaced. "I thought you handled the invitations," Harry said.

"Well, clearly not this one. Why would I invite her?" Ginny looked annoyed.

"Because she's my partner?" Harry offered.

"I thought she was on leave."

"She returned last week."

"Ugh, she's coming over," said Ginny with disgust as both watched Harry's partner, the blonde woman, and her friend, who walked slightly behind her, approach them.

"Hi there, Potter! Long time, no see. I have to say I'm a little hurt you didn't tell me you've been promoted, but now I see you were just trying to make it into a big spectacle. Once the hero, always the hero, right?"

"Daph—" Harry started, but was interrupted by the blonde's laughter. Apparently, she thought the whole thing was hilarious.

"Oh relax, Chosen One, I'm just messing with you," she said, picking up a drink from the nearby table.

Ginny made a sound clearing her throat that turned into a loud cough. For a split second, Harry wondered if his girlfriend had invited Umbridge.

"Weasley."

"Greengrass."

"I'm sorry, Weasley, I didn't see you there. You're still around, I see. Guess all that pining worked out, huh?"

If looks could kill, Daphne Greengrass would have dropped dead that instant. Ginny's jaw clenched so tight that Harry was afraid it was going to break. He had no illusions; he knew Ginny could take care of herself when it came to the former Slytherin. He had witnessed it multiple times in the few occasions the three of them had shared a room.

Trying to avoid another scene, Harry gave Ginny a meaningful look, pleading her to not respond to the provocation. Because that's all it was – a provocation. Daphne had been his partner for three years now, so he had come to know her reasonably well. And he knew she was just trying to get under Ginny's skin. She did it with everyone, including Harry, although he had withstood it so many times, it had lost its effect. But Ginny still couldn't keep her temper in check when it came to the blonde woman. In all fairness, Daphne wasn't exactly pleasant.

Harry took his partner aside, away from Ginny (who was still shooting daggers with her eyes). "Why do you have to be such a bitch?" he muttered.

"Aww, that's sweet. I missed you too, Potter. You know I always had a soft spot for you." Daphne winked in a flirtatious manner and Harry rolled his eyes.

"Congratulations, mate." Ron chose that exact moment to introduce himself into the conversation, patting Harry in the back in a friendly manner, completely oblivious to the tension emanating from his friend's body.

"Ron," scolded Hermione. "Can't you see Harry's in the middle of something?"

Hearing Hermione's words, Harry looked at her and their eyes met for a brief moment, before she averted her gaze. He was sure she, too, was relieving the last words they had spoken to each other.

You call it help, I call it meddling! You just can't stand not knowing!

"Weasley and Granger," teased Daphne with a smirk. "Or should I say Weasley and Weasley," she added, noticing Hermione's left hand.

"It's Weasley-Granger, actually," Hermione jabbed.

"Of course it is. You were always such a control freak. Guess some things never change."

Before Hermione could answer, though, Ron interjected. "And I see you're still at the Auror Department. Looks like you're still weaselling your way into the Ministry, Greengrass."

"Oh, no, honey. You're mistaken," Daphne said with fake sweetness. "That's you."

"Okay!" Harry stepped in, trying to avoid another disaster. "Let's cool it, guys" he suggested, addressing everyone, but looking directly at his partner.

"Come on, Ron. Let's say hi to your sister. She's not worth it," spat Hermione, looking at Daphne with disgust.

"Toodles!" Daphne waved her fingers while Ron and Hermione made their way towards Ginny, who was talking to Dean and Teddy.

Harry looked at her angrily. "And this is why you don't have any friends."

"What about Tracey?" she said, motioning to a dark-skinned woman who Harry vaguely recognized as Tracey Davis, a former Slytherin student. Tracey was watching her whereabouts with her arms folded over her chest, a bored expression on her face, clearly thinking this was the last place she had wanted to be.

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Your lackeys are not your friends, Daphne."

"Okay. Well, I still have you, don't I?" she replied, cheekily.

"I seem to recall various events in which you clearly stated that, in no circumstance whatsoever, were I to assume that we were anything more that colleagues."

"That was before Robards made us fill out that dreadful questionnaire and decide to pair us up according to compatibility," she recalled. "I guess now that you're Head Auror, you can get someone to correct the sodding thing, because no compatibility test matches me with the Golden Boy. Clearly, it's been corrupted."

Harry ignored the name calling. Daphne used to come up with the most ridiculous names when she got tired of using "Potter". ("Harry" was for friends, which they most certainly were not.) He knew she didn't really mean it and was only trying to get a reaction from him, and he wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. Harry had heard way worse, when he was living with the Dursleys. Daphne's words were chid play.

"Finished?" he snapped.

"Hardly." Daphne smiled.

"These are my friends. You can't talk to them like that," Harry said in a serious tone.

Daphne shrugged. "It's not my fault your friends are such dorks. Granger needs to take a chill pill, she's always so uptight. And that Weasley girl—".

"Think very carefully about how you want to finish that sentence, Daphne," Harry declared, speaking very slowly.

There was a small pause before Daphne spoke. "… is clearly the right choice for the Saviour."

Harry had every intention of responding, but, at that moment, he spotted a redheaded woman nearby looking at them. At first, he didn't recognize her with the ear length curly hair and brown eyes, but then he knew it was Lily, who like James, had her features altered. When their eyes met, she averted her gaze, pretending to be looking at her butterbeer, but Harry knew she had heard the whole thing.

"Excuse me," he said, distractedly, making his way over to Lily. "Enjoying the party?"

"Yes. I've met Hagrid. He seems very fond of you. All these people are. Fond of you, that is. It looks like you're very loved."

There was no sarcastic undertone in those words. No hostility, just plain honesty. But Harry felt uneasy about Lily's expression. She looked… weird. Her eyes held something he'd never seen before.

His mind went into overdrive. Who did she talk to? Did she hear something? Did she found out something? This was madness! All these people held vital information, not only about his parents, but also about Harry himself.

Does she know? Does she know who I am?

He remained quiet, hoping Lily would continue her train of thought, but she didn't elaborate, and Harry felt a wave of panic go through his body. Should he ask? Should he press? Would that be suspicious?

Was he paranoid?

While Harry was busy entertaining the uncertainty inside his head, he saw someone out of the corner of his eye that demanded his immediate attention. Sensing Harry approaching him, he tried to look for a way out, as if he was thinking of running away.

"Why does everybody keep on congratulating me?" Harry demanded with a deadly expression.

Robards had the decency to look ashamed, before regaining his composure.

"For your promotion, of course," he said.

"I don't remember receiving a promotion."

"You should clean your desk a little more often, that's what I say to all of you lot."

Did he write that information on a piece of parchment and left it at his desk?

"You could have at least talked to me," said Harry irritated. "Sir," he added out of respect.

"I've talked to you plenty," his boss declared. "I've been talking to you for years."

"I told you, I don't want this."

Robards took a deep breath and looked at Harry. When he spoke, it was as if he was speaking to a small child.

"Every morning my wife leaves on the bed my clothes for the day, neatly folded. And every day, she leaves that red shirt her mother gave me for Christmas once. I hate that shirt as much as I hate her mother, but I wear it every single day. Do you see my point?"

Harry tried very hard, but failed, to keep his expression neutral. "Your wife chooses your clothes for you?"

"The point being," continued Robards, finding no humour in Harry's words. "We all do things we don't want to. We hate it, we complain about it, but, at the end of the day, we suck it up and do them anyway, because that's what being an adult is all about. Now, I'm retiring next month. If by then, and after reflecting really hard about it, you still don't want the job, just turn it down. No hard feelings."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"Did you tell Ginny I'd already accepted the promotion?"

Robards looked sheepish. "Well, she looked so happy. She went on and on about throwing a small gathering, a surprise for you. I couldn't tell her I hadn't talked to you yet."

"And you thought I'd have a harder time rejecting it now," Harry said, astutely.

"See? That's why the Department needs you! Where am I going to find that kind of insight?"

"Don't celebrate yet," suggested Harry. "Wait for me next month with the rejection notice."

Robards walked away from Harry, leaving him to scan the room, hoping to find Lily and continue their conversation. He spotted her by the fireplace, talking to Ginny.

xxx

"Anyway, your son is very cute," complimented Lily, who seemed to have taken a liking to Teddy. The little one was running around in his toy broom, bumping into people and laughing excitedly.

Ginny chuckled. "Thanks, but he's not my son."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I just assumed…"

"It's fine," Ginny shrugged.

"What happened to his mother?" asked Lily.

"She died. Fighting Voldemort. She was part of the Order of Phoenix, back when it still existed. His father too," Ginny explained.

"His father?"

"Yeah, his parents both died in the Final Battle. Teddy's been an orphan his entire life."

"It's just… Harry never mentioned… that Teddy wasn't his son," Lily said. "And they're so similar."

"Well, Harry may not be his father, but he feels like he is. After Andromeda got sick – Andromeda's his grandmother – she's been having a hard time taking care of him, so he's here more and more these days," said Ginny. "As for the similarities, Teddy's a Metamorphmagus."

"What is their relation? Harry and Andromeda?"

"None. Harry's Teddy's godfather," Ginny clarified. "Remus and Tonks, Teddy's parents, were dear friends. They named him godfather shortly before they died."

"Remus?"

Realising her slip, Ginny tried to keep an impassive expression. "Oh, look, Harry's coming this way," she said. "I have to talk to him. Excuse me."

xxx

Later that night, when everyone had gone home, Harry and Ginny were the only ones still up, cleaning up the mess from the party. Teddy was currently sleeping in his room; the little boy was so tired, he fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Ginny seized her opportunity.

"Why are you saying to James and Lily that Teddy's your son?" she asked, when both of them fell on the sofa, completely exhausted.

"I did nothing of the sort," Harry said, readily.

"Harry, it's hard for them," Ginny observed. "Not knowing where they stand, what really happened. They're living in a familiar world which they don't recognize. Don't make it harder for them."

"If they had doubts about Teddy they should've just asked me," Harry insisted, stubbornly. "It's not my fault they assume things. If they don't talk to me, I can't help them. I'm not a bloody mind reader."

"They don't want to intrude. And you haven't been exactly hospitable. You've been purposely leading them on," she accused.

"Well, you said they were bored," he shrugged. "I'm just giving them something to do."

"No, you're not. You're hiding."

"I'm not hiding!" he shouted, feeling his anger return. "I just don't think that feeding them information about this timeline is very smart. You don't know the consequences."

"Do you?"

"No," Harry admitted. "But letting them interact with people all night? You're being reckless."

"And you're being cruel!" Ginny jabbed. "Also, I took precautions. You're not the only one around here who knows how to use a wand. I enchanted them; in case someone said something about the Potter's, James and Lily would find themselves temporarily deaf."

Harry sighed in annoyance. He knew what Ginny was doing, which made him even angrier. She wasn't usually like this. Ginny didn't push. Ginny was safe. She didn't take uncomfortable truths and presented them to his face.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, exasperated.

"I want you to act like a human being!" Ginny shouted, her face almost as red as her hair. She could feel a flush start to creep in her neck, but she ignored it. "You know," she continued in a softer tone, "despite this macho façade that you try so hard to put in place, you're the kindest person I know."

It was automatic. Harry rolled his eyes.

"What?" she demanded. Harry didn't say anything, refusing to meet her eye. "You clearly have something to say. Come on, let it out."

"Now it's not the time, nor the place. I'm tired. Let's just go to bed," he said, getting up from the sofa.

"It's never the time and it's never the place," Ginny accused. "You never talk to me."

"I talk to you plenty!"

"Not about your feelings. I'm not stupid, Harry, I know you're having nightmares again. I hear you tossing and turning in bed all night."

"Sorry if my sleeping habits keep you awake at night."

"I don't give a shit about your sleeping habits!" Ginny cried out. "It's you I care about! Why is it so hard for you to open up?!"

"We've been together for five years, Ginny. You're the one who knows me better. I tell you things that not even Ron and Hermione dream about."

"Am I supposed to congratulate you for that? The fact that you share with your girlfriend things you don't tell your friends?!"

"Are you jealous of them?" Harry couldn't believe that she doubted his feelings.

"Fifteen year-old me would probably say yes, but not anymore, Harry. I came to terms with the fact that we'll never get to share the bond you have with Ron and Hermione a long time ago. The bubble you three live in is impenetrable to this day."

"So what are you saying?" he dared.

"You're not alone!" Ginny cried out, with tears in her eyes. "I'm here! Don't shut me out!"

"I know you're here—"

"No, you don't!" she interrupted. "Talk to me, Harry! I know you're hurting. You keep everything so bottled up, it's a recipe for disaster, can't see that? What happens when it starts to overflow? When you can't keep it in anymore?

"I have a feeling you're about to tell me," Harry rebuked.

"This happens, Harry!" she shouted, making a sudden movement with her arms. "This… It's not how it's supposed to be… it's not supposed to be this hard. Loving you is so hard."

Harry felt like he was freefalling and he couldn't see the bottom. "How long have you felt this way?"

"It's always been like this. You must have known you were holding back," she said, desperation in her brown eyes. "At first, I downplayed it; the war was too recent, the losses were still too fresh in our memory. Fred… and Lupin… and Tonks… I thought you needed time. Someday, you would open up to me and give me all of you. Looks like I'm still waiting." Her tears were threatening to fall, but Harry knew she wouldn't let them. Because Ginny never cried. She was strong.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner?" he asked.

"I was trying to give you time. I know how you hate when people push you. You've always had the world on your shoulders from such a young age. I guess I didn't want to add to the pressure. I wanted to give you what you deserved. I wanted to give you nice and easy, and bubbly and fun," Ginny explained. She looked heartbroken. "I had dreamed of having you for so long that when it finally happened, I was so happy. So I told myself it was enough… you were enough."

Ginny's eyes were glistening with unshed tears and Harry's world was spinning. What was happening? This wasn't them, they didn't do this. They didn't fight. No, they understood each other so deeply that, sometimes, no words were necessary to communicate.

Harry was feeling sick; there was something in his throat that wouldn't go down. He was dreading to ask, afraid of hearing the answer. But he had to. "Am I still enough?"

"Oh, Harry, can't you see?" said Ginny. "I never really had you in the first place."

And then, her tears fell.

.

.

.

You took these starving limbs, tried to see,

Tried to see what they could be.

But I thought I'd be something,

I thought you'd complete me,

That you'd erase all the pain that I felt in my brain.

If you filled my heart with love,

Then you'd fill my voids above.

Now you see, that didn't change a thing.

- Empty, PVRIS