Ashes in your mouth
Chapter Five: Burrow to Black ManorWhere our Hero has insufficient funds and loses something precious.
Harry was at the Burrow on Sunday, eating roast for lunch, when Ginny announced "I made the Harpies Development squad." Harry's heart soared. She'd always wanted it, and it was coming true.
The afternoon got better, till it didn't.
Harry sat under the apple tree in the orchard at The Burrow with Ginny leaning against him.
"Harry" asked Ginny.
"Yes Ginny" said Harry, warm and feeling more relaxed than he had in years.
"Can I have a Firebolt?" Ginny asked. "I know they're expensive, but I need one for training, or else I have to do all my training at Holyhead."
Harry felt icy horror spreading from his heart. A Firebolt. The best, most expensive broom in the world.
Harry croaked out "I can't afford one, sorry". The rest of the afternoon was a blur. Harry remembered coming home to Godrics hollow, collapsing on the camp bed quite drunk.
Ginny simply had to stay at training grounds more.
Harry came to see her … and the rest of the Weasleys on Sunday, and get some roast dinner.
Ginny walked out across the fields with Harry after dinner, her fingers laced through Harry's.
Harry inhaled the scent of treacle tart, the woody smell of a broomstick handle, and something flowery, and felt happy.
"Harry" said Ginny as they passed the pond "You've changed." she said thoughtfully.
Harry looked out past the tall reeds on the side of the pond, and there was nothing dangerous out there. He relaxed a little.
"Since the way, you've been different" said Ginny.
Harry nodded "Yeah" said Harry gently "It's been hard."
"You're not really the same guy you were, are you" said Ginny.
Harry shrugged. "I survived though. That's what matters."
"Yeah" said Ginny, with a slight delay.
Harry got back to the Burrow un-snogged, but the walk was good. Nothing dangerous or scary happened, and he held Ginny's hand. It felt, Harry thought like a nice afternoon.
Harry of course, thanks to Dawlish, had another shift starting that evening. Auror Potter does seem to get a lot of time on shift.
Some days pass by, mostly hunting for those last few Death-Eaters.
Harry got an evening off, for a change and went to the Burrow, and he, Ginny, Hermione and Ron play two-a-side wizarding chess. Ron and Hermione defeat Harry and Ginny by several pieces, though the night has got a bit late and Harry's dead tired.
"Well that was fun" said Ginny as Harry left. Harry smiled at that.
Auror Potter's work tempo increases somehow, and he just isn't getting much time off. They are, though able to find a Skower Selwyn, who's been wanted since the end of the war. Skower, hardly badly injured at all, will see a fair trial in Courtroom Ten. Then probably go to Azkaban.
After Skower's capture, his interrogation and follow-up searches took weeks. Harry was so tired he hardly had nightmares. Well, only a few a night.
Harry did make it to the next Sunday lunch and got Ginny out into the apple orchard after lunch. He kisses her gently and she kissed him back. "You finally get some time off eh?" she asked.
Harry sighed "Dawlish hates me, I think" he said.
"You're different somehow" said Ginny "I can't put my finger on it."
"You could try" said Harry with a crooked smile.
"Even your kisses are slightly different." said Ginny. "You could do your trick again?"
Harry drew aback and shrugged "Can't anymore. Sorry. Lost that power. I can't really say why."
Ginny crossed her arms "I was looking forward to that!" she said. "Not just the kissing, Man who conquered!"
Harry blushed.
"Are you sure you can't do it anymore?" asked Ginny. "Try the kissing."
Harry kissed Ginny, trying, unsuccessfully to hiss into her lips.
Ginny pulled back her head "You're not even trying!" she said.
"Like I said, I can't do it anymore." said Harry.
"That's a huge loss. You used to be phenomenal" said Ginny.
"I'm less worried" suggested Harry.
"That's not it" said Ginny. "But something's different."
Harry thought about the things he did in the last few days of the war. The things he didn't want to admit to, not to anyone. Professor McGonagall was good not to mention that curse, for starters. And he certainly wasn't explaining the details of that trip to the forest. Hagrid had looked at him after the battle and simply nodded. He was, Harry thought, keeping that secret quite well.
The next Sunday, Harry couldn't make lunch at the Burrow, but went to the Burrow after the evening shift has started and played exploding snap with Ron, while Ginny looked at Harry. Harry wiggled his eyebrows and Ginny can't help smiling a little. It's hard to find an excuse to take Ginny off and snog her, Mrs Weasley took what Harry thinks is obvious amusement in Harry's attempts to organise for them to both be either upstairs or even outside.
Harry did manage to kiss Ginny in the kitchen, and she smiled, but looked slightly thoughtful too.
Harry decided that was cause for a second, better kiss and tried very hard to snog Ginny instead.
Ginny held onto Harry's neck and Harry felt contented. Clearly, a bit of a snog was fixing everything. Harry missed the look on Ginny's face.
Monday evening, Harry decided to drop by the Burrow, and did actually get Ginny outside, for a walk out to the apple orchard. She held his hand, and they kissed under the apple trees. The windfalls did smell a little, but the kissing, in Harry's opinion, made up for it.
"Harry" said Ginny quietly. "You don't kiss the same any more. Not just the hissing. It used to be… like there was a spark to it. And after a while my head would spin. You could have talked me into anything."
Harry's throat seized up. Talk Ginny into anything. Bloody Hell! She'd been pretty bloody enthusiastic end of sixth year as it was. Harry struggled to swallow. Ginny looked at Harry, eyebrows raised. "Crikey" croaked Harry.
"Are you excited by that?" asked Ginny "Go, on, kiss me like you used to. Show me the spark?"
Harry kissed her … as best he could. Ginny let him go eventually "We'd better get inside before Mum freaks out" she said. Harry held her hand all the way back inside and felt relieved. Everything was back to normal.
Auror Potter had another very busy fortnight, as apparently one of the Burke's on the wanted list has been spotted somewhere near Chissock. He, and Ron missed Sunday lunch. Harry was switched to night shifts again, and soon was so tired all he was doing at Godrics Hollow was eating and falling asleep. To nightmares, well, daymares now.
Sunday lunch finally rolled around, and Harry had finally; Dawlish seemed to take delight in keeping Harry on night shift, got a day off. Harry met Ginny's eye in the sitting room of the burrow. She frowned at him, but Hermione was er… talking to Harry and her mum was in the kitchen.
Several servings of roast dinner later, Harry strolled out into the overcast day with Ginny.
They walked quietly to the apple orchard, and Harry looked forward to a kiss.
"Harry" said Ginny in an odd tone "I need to take a break. From us."
Harry blinked and was tempted to put finger in one ear and wiggle it. "You what?" asked Harry, feeling confused.
"Take a break" said Ginny "Like… your I have to dump you, so I can go off and do dangerous shit, take a break."
"Oh" said Harry, frowning and biting his lip.
"It's just" said Ginny awkwardly "You're not… doing it for me any more."
"Doing it?" asked Harry slightly sarcastically.
"It's not as good as it used to be, and I want time to think" said Ginny.
"The hissing?" asked Harry.
"Not just that" said Ginny "But I can hardly do without and pretend that's as good."
"Not even a kiss?"
"Not today." said Ginny.
Harry went home to the cottage and the bed in the tent, got passing out drunk and the next morning Harry went to work at the Auror office with a nasty hangover.
By afternoon, the night shift had handed over a lead they'd found and the Burke they'd been looking for was probably in Hartlepool. Posing as a muggle.
The team Harry was part of, for once actually had Ron in it. However, Ron glared at Harry.
While they waited for disguises and portkeys, Harry cast a privacy charm and asked "Ron, mate, what's up?"
"You upset my little sister. She cried all night" said Ron, looking quite angry.
"I didn't do anything." protested Harry "She erm… decided she wanted to take a break. From us."
"My Sister dumped you?" asked Ron, tactlessly.
Harry nodded.
"And you went home and got hammered?" asked Ron.
"Passed out" admitted Harry.
"You'd better not have messed her around" said Ron.
The hunt for Burke took all day, and they finally captured him. Under interrogation, he knew the location of a werewolf hideout. Which meant… silver chainmail for everyone, and weeks chasing feral humans through the woods, and avoiding nasty pit and deadfall traps the werewolf pack had left for pursuers. Harry actually enjoyed it. It was still a lot like camping, which brought back some fantastic nightmares, but the whole Auror office were stretched thin following the werewolves, and finally captured the last one, a witch with a very nasty bone-breaking curse after three weeks of non-stop work, sleeping in the office.
Harry went home via St Mungos like most of the Aurors… and was tied into a bed for days while the broken bones he'd used field charms on were healed properly.
Days later, the whole Auror office had taken to looking around nervously, wondering when the frantic activity would resume, but his night shifts were mostly routine and boring.
The Prophet sports pages on Thursday ran a feature about Ginny when she subbed in on a real match and did well.
Harry read it with pride and scoffed at their statement that she was seeing Michael Corner. That was ages ago, before the war. Typical Daily Prophet.
Another Death Eater has been spotted and Harry and Ron see each other at the Auror office, but Harry barely has time to sleep and eat. He misses Sunday at the Burrow two more weeks running, and is on the late night shift for the next month.
Ginny has to practice on the weekends, trying to fit practice into her now mostly-starting position on the team between weekday league matches and travel.
-==0==-
Harry was in the Auror ready room drinking tea half-way from midnight to morning, and idly opened the rumpled Daily Prophet and flicked through it. They're reporting the few Death Eater actions as huge things, there's probably only a half dozen left free. Bloody Prophet. Harry turned to the sport section and checks out the league ranking. The Cannons are in bottom position, as usual. There's a picture of the Harpies celebrating a win, and there's Ginny, looking windswept and delectable in her armour. Harry watched Ginny grin, hug… some tall black haired bloke and kiss him. It's… it's fucking Michael Corner. Michael so-bloody-tall Corner. Harry's heart fell out and was trampled by Wracksprurts or Nargles or something. Harry's head definitely felt fuzzy.
Harry made it to the end of the shift, and they captured a thug in a dark cloak shaking down halfblood houses, pretending to be a Death Eater. Harry's incarcerous had become thin black ropes that partially crush the thug; and when they check their records back at the Auror office, he's a known ex-snatcher; Harry flicked his wand and the thug flew into the holding cell, hitting the wall with a painful thud and a crunch.
"Easy Potter" urged Atkins, his Patrol partner that night, who's old enough to be someone's dad.
Harry went home and had Firewhiskey for breakfast till he passed out.
Harry was walking down the street in Godrics Hollow to pick up some groceries and some budget-priced whisky, and saw a For Sale sign on a cottage. It occurred to Harry that Black Manor was no worse than his cottage had been a year or more ago.
And he practically lived in the tent anyway.
A few pounds later at the pub for the telephone and Harry had a visit booked by a muggle estate agent for his next day off.
The agent, a tall man with a greying crew-cut looked interested in the cottage "Very authentic" they said "Have you lived here long?"
"Uh… my parents owned it, then they died" said Harry "Car crash."
"Oh is that why you're interested in selling it?" asked Chas, the agent.
"Uh, I actually have a bigger place in England and it needs a lot of work. Money's a bit tight." admitted Harry.
"Well, is it worse than this cottage?" asked Chas curiously.
"A lot, but it's entailed and I can't sell it" said Harry. "It's in trust for my heir. He's three, so plenty of time to fix things."
"Not your son?" asked Chas.
"I'm not married" said Harry "I'm bit busy with work for that. I'm a policeman and I have rotating shifts" said Harry. "This is my day off this week, and I have two half-days."
"Not the local bobby then?"
"London, more … specialised" said Harry.
"Oh..." said Chas . "The scars I suppose."
Harry nodded "Someone tried to kill me" he admitted.
The conversation trailed off there.
-==0==-
Harry got a letter from Ginny. He opened it eagerly.
'Dear Harry,
Harry, you've changed. You've lost your spark, the glint in your eyes.
You flinch, loud noises startle you and you're always on edge.
I just don't think we can be together any more.
You've just lost… something.
Your Friend, Ginny.'
Harry stared at the letter, tears streaming from his eyes. 'This… this… was just bloody shit, that's what it was' thought Harry.
He crumpled the letter up and threw it into the fireplace.
He took off his glasses and washed his face with cold water from the tap, then scourgify'ed his glasses and sighed. No point being all wet like Cho Chang had been, he thought to himself.
At least he wouldn't have to put up with yelling when he upset her again. That thought, oddly gave him a weird sort of relief.
After his parent's cottage sold, Harry thought his money problems were over. He had forty thousand galleons, once he got George to convert the pounds at Gringotts. "Don't worry" said George reassuringly. "I'll just claim we've been taking owl orders in muggle money."
Harry looked at George and tilted his head "We should do that" said Harry "Muggleborns have pounds at home, not galleons." George looked thoughtful at that.
George was very good about not mentioning Ginny.
Harry contacted the builder and asked about getting the upper floors of the manor… replaced with something that wasn't mostly rot.
It was nearly Christmas again before the builders stopped, having spent all Harry's house sale proceeds, and a hundred galleons more besides. There were now floors all the way to the fourth floor, even if the walls in many rooms were a bit rotten and water damaged.
Harry spent an entire day off making a list, and was fairly sure he had fifty-three rooms. Attics, he felt, did not count. Though there were eleven of those, they'd been vanished empty of rot when the roof was rebuilt.
There wasn't technically any hot water. The cold taps worked, if a bit juddering and rusty. There had been a boiler, but either Kreacher had broken it, or corrosion had seen it fail. Or maybe the enchantments had just conked out.
Harry just warming charmed the sink to a temperature that worked, which also meant baths not showers.
A drunken experiment had Harry repair-charming a wall using the Elder wand. It worked… though the pattern on the wallpaper was a little odd. It tended to move when you weren't looking at it, just out of the corner of your eye.
The first broken window he repaired ended up with Deathly Hallows shaped leading.
Ten windows later, with practice, the windows tended to only have a single triangle, circle line pattern in one corner.
Weeks later, the house looked quite intact. The odd patterns on the walls shifting had stopped bothering Harry. Harry spent a lot of his time off repair-charming walls. The rooms that had some pattern left on the walls ended up with more of whatever was there, mostly. Except where it shifts out of the corner of your eye. Harry ignored that, and spent a day of his time off every week helping look after Teddy.
-==0==-
Harry's birthday was coming up, and Hermione over lunch at the ministry cafe, suggested he have a party. Harry could imagine his dining room, which does have a very large table seating a large group.
"Yeah" said Harry "A party."
That evening, glass of whisky in hand, Harry moved all his furniture into the Drawing room and the Dining room. It looks… quite high-toned. His tent is in the kitchen anyway. Harry staggered around feeling … like he could put on good clothes and pretend.
Hermione came to visit the next evening; coming out in the front Hall. She boggled a bit. "gosh" she said "it's certainly big".
Harry traipsed into the dining room "See, plenty of seats" he said.
"You should invite all the DA" said Hermione. "Everyone would be pleased to see how well you're doing"
Harry fell asleep drunk in his favourite chair in the drawing room that night. And hardly had any nightmares at all. Some bone-breaking from chasing that werewolf, that was all.
The next morning he got a letter at the Auror office from St Mungos reminding him to come for an appointment.
Healer Lowry was old, red and grey haired and had a gravelly voice.
"You missed your appointment Mister Potter" said Lowry bluntly. "You're not well. Sit down, and I'll do some diagnostic spells."
Harry fell asleep in the chair as Lowry cast spells.
A poke woke him up "You don't sleep well" said Lowry, and it wasn't a question.
"I have the odd nightmare" admitted Harry. "I've had a traumatic life."
Lowry nodded "And you're drinking yourself to death" he added.
"Look, it's not really any of your business" protested Harry.
"It is since I took Healers vows. You're sick… I'm going to give you a prescription for some potions, you'll get better, probably sleep all right most nights" said Lowry.
Harry looked at Lowry "Bad tasting potions?"
"The absolute worst. The later ones taste like a mixture of beets and old socks" said Lowry blandly, "But you'll sleep better."
Harry went and got the potions from the Apothecary, and the first vial did taste pretty foul.
Being an Auror was demanding work, and entailed the occasional workplace injury. Like when some death-eater sympathiser clipped Harry in the legs with a bone-breaking curse.
Harry was lying on a stretcher waiting when a familiar looking young witch with chestnut hair pushed past him, looking like death warmed over, to be greeted by the Welcome witch very familiarly, and taken right to a room.
Harry got his broken bones vanished, took his skele-grow, and was taken to a room to lie staring at the ceiling, until a healer came by and gave Harry a familiar looking vial of bad-tasting potion.
George decided Harry's birthday would also have fireworks. George explained "It's exposure for the shop. And I'll set them off, you can stand and watch."
-==0==-
Harry was wondering about the catering when Arthur Weasley discretely told him that Molly would cater, after all Harry was like family. Arthur looked a little embarrassed at that.
Harry conjured up a velvet rope across the staircase at Black Manor, and a sign "Private (and cursed)" It was true, the house was a curse.
People started arriving, and the drawing room and front hall filled up with people. Harry realised most people had brought dates, so there were almost twice as many people as the remaining DA members. Mrs Weasley had apparently expected that.
Maybe it was the extra sleep, maybe just having the house full of chatting people but Harry was in a good mood. Even Michael Corner and Ginny didn't really dampen Harry's mood. Kreacher was keeping Harry's glass topped up, and Harry was actually… having fun. Having an immense house had it's good points. Well… this was the good point really.
Dinner was nice. Kreacher served the drinks, and the serving dishes floated out. With extra Weasleys, a pleased looking Andromeda and a sleepy looking Teddy, dinner was a success.
Teddy and Andromeda left after dinner, Harry sparing a minute or two to hold Teddy and feel… quite normal. Nobody was trying to kill him, he was at home, had eaten a nice meal. Things... were surprisingly nice.
George opened the doors from the drawing room to the terrace once it was quite dark and everyone wandered out; George set up some screaming fire-fountains to attract the guests.
The firework display was a succession of flaming dragons, Gryphons and shooting stars exploding into rainbows of falling stars. Harry felt a moments gratitude to George for NOT doing a big animated Harry Potter battle scene.
The fireworks stopped.
Beside Harry, a female voice commented "I was expecting rather more for Your birthday."
Harry looked around and there, in a hooded cloak was Daphne Greengrass.
"You weren't invited" he said, without thinking.
"I was a plus one." said Daphne Greengrass "Too poor for a bigger show?" she asked.
Harry wondered if George must have heard her, or something, because a different fireworks show started.
Voldemort dying, a snake being beheaded… Snape dying. It was… Harry realised, minutes later, his clothes reeking of gunpowder, the history of the war, of Harry's life in fireworks, backwards, leaving out a lot, fortunately, till… a Baby Harry firework ascended into a big pink...
Fuck. George had depicted Harry's birth, albeit in a cartoon style. Harry wanted to strangle George.
"Well" said Daphne Greengrass, clearing her throat "That was… the biggest, most egotistical fireworks display I've ever seen. Well done Potter, you really are as big a prat as Malfoy makes out."
"I didn't know George was going to do that" said Harry defensively "I thought I was just getting some dragons and Gryphons."
At this point a lipstick-smudged Ron dashed over and Greengrass backed off "I'm sorry Harry" he began "If I'd know George was going to do that, I'd have held him down and hexed him."
"It's okay Ron. I've had worse" said Harry, his mood a bit ruined by the accusations of Greengrass.
"GEORGE WEASLEY!" blasted Molly's voice through a sonourous charm "YOU GET UP HERE NOW!"
Harry turned around, and Molly was putting her wand down from her neck. "That boy. I'm so Sorry Harry. I knew you don't like people to make a fuss" apologised Molly. "I'll have George de-gnoming the garden for a week."
George came up the steps from the lawn in his awful purple outfit "Harry, the birthday boy!" he grinned.
"Not fucking funny" hissed Harry "I wanted something subtle… not the bloody history of Harry Potter in giant fireworks."
"Oh Harry, you're too modest. If people knew how hard you'd worked, they'd have made You minister of magic" said George.
"Never" said Harry "I hate paperwork, and meetings, and politics. I fucking trusted you George!"
"Oh Harry, it's the DA. They all know you're awesome, and none of that was made up" said George. "How'd you like the depiction of the birth of Saint Harry?"
"Fuck you George" said Harry stiffly "And stop drinking so much"
"Coming from you that's quite a complaint" observed George "Beside's I'm not drunk, just a little billywig venom to take the edge off, that's all."
"George, I'm an Auror, you can't tell me that" said Harry, in a pained tone.
"Look, All the cool cats are doing it" said George "You should get bent, I mean… you should get a shag, but… well I'm sorry about my sister. She's getting socks for Christmas."
"Piss off George" said Harry crossly.
Harry stood brooding, hands on the stone balustrade of the terrace, staring into the darkness, as the party wound down behind him.
"Hay Harray" slurred Seamus Finnegan drunkenly "Bloody foine party. You need to get yerself a witch. Get the edge off. An I can tell ye, you can find a good time in the most unlikely places. My gel, she's Emmelise Shafiq, the Heiress, from Beauxbatons, and you'd think she'd have nothin' to do with me, but she's all over meh. You go get yerself a posh witch, they're dynamite."
"Eh yeah" said Harry awkwardly. "You all right?"
"Oooim fine, I'll go home, tomorrow noiht I'll be tucked up in a pretty bed with a pretty witch. You get laid eh, the pressuh must be killin yeh" said Seamus, patted Harry on the back surprisingly fondly, and wandered off.
From the end of the terrace, a woman spoke "He's going to get dumped once Emmeleise is bored of him. She collects poor wizards, uses them till she gets bored, and moves on."
Harry turned and Daphne Greengrass was standing there, holding a mug.
"Seamus is a big bad boy. He'll cope" said Harry, remembering Seamus's endless stories of broom-closet trips at Hogwarts.
"He got dates on the strength of his Irish brogue" said Daphne. "And was hexed often for his roaming hands."
"Well, I'm sorry your ex was here" said Harry, feeling sorry for himself.
"As IF!" said Greengrass "I'd never go out with a… a…. "
"Half-blood?" said Harry cynically "Go on, trot out the old blood-bigotry stuff. I can't even be bothered getting my notebook out tonight."
"I was going to say… crass boy with roaming hands!" said Greengrass "My best friend is a half-blood."
"Oh I'm so sorry" said Harry insincerely "There I was thinking you were as big a shit as your sister."
"She was just wanted to see Draco and you fight" said Greengrass defensively.
"Last time we fought, I took his wand" said Harry "Won the war with it. Mine had broken."
"Oh I'm sorry." said Daphne Greengrass politely.
"It's fixed. I'm fixed… everything just fine" said Harry sourly.
"You are a very bitter man for the man-who-won" said Daphne Greengrass.
"Well, winning isn't much if there's nobody left. Colin died, Remus Died… Tonks, Sirius, even Mad-Eye died." said Harry, with a tremor.
"Yes, but you saved everyone else from Voldemort's rule of terror. A hundred years of his cruelty, till he would finally snuff it" said Greengrass.
Harry snorted "An eternity. He was immortal for a while there" said Harry bitterly.
"That's not possible" said Daphne Greengrass certainly.
"Oh, he travelled further into dark magic in the quest for immortality than anyone ever has. He was probably the evillest wizard ever born." said Harry, feeling a moments' satisfaction that Voldemort... well uncle Tom was dead.
"Dark magic?" asked Greengrass, sounding a bit squeaky.
"Imagine the evillest magic you can imagine, then imagine something eviller than that" said Harry "And classified, so no, you'll never know."
Daphne Greengrass huffed "Oh you'd tell me" she said confidently, and crossed the distance to Harry's ear and whispered "If I wanted to know, you'd tell me" she whispered huskily. The hairs on Harry's spine did that thing again, and he could barely control himself from shivering.
"You talk a very good game, Heiress Greengrass... go home, and leave me to my thoughts" said Harry.
"Seamus is right about one thing" said Greengrass, stepping towards the doors "You needed Weasley."
Harry turned on Greengrass "I never had bloody time for her" said Harry bitterly "Working two jobs, her with Quidditch practice. There's never any time."
"Well, stop working then" said Greengrass.
"And who would do my job?" asked Harry.
"Oh come on, Weasleys Wheeezes isn't some noble calling." said Greengrass airily.
"George lost his twin brother and he… he wasn't getting out of bed. Getting the shop going, making the fireworks... it's all he has" said Harry "I can't let a friend down." Glossing over being perpetually nearly broke.
"Oh Merlin. You're not actually arrogant at all... you're insufferably noble. Everything is a great noble sacrifice" said Greengrass. "I'm surprised you didn't actually die to save us like that Jesus fellow."
"It's overrated" muttered Harry.
"What did you say?" asked Greengrass.
"Nothing. Go home Miss Greengrass." said Harry firmly.
Greengrass huffed off, and Kreacher when called, brought a glass of firewhiskey to sip.
Harry, faced with the prospect of hanging around till Molly Weasley left, lay on a couch in the drawing room, waved goodnight to a rumpled Hermione and Ron and closed his eyes.
"Harry Potter, what in the name of magic are you doing?" said Mrs Weasley, far too loudly, and from Harry's muzzy head, far too early.
Harry opened his eyes; he was still lying on the couch, with a blanket over his feet. It was still dark outside.
"Eh?" Harry asked.
"Where the hell is your bed." said Mrs Weasley. "The bedrooms are all bare."
"Oh… I sleep in my tent" said Harry sleepily. "S'in the scullery, I put it up in the kitchen."
"Why haven't you bought a bed?" asked Mrs Weasley loudly. Harry sighed "There's one in my tent." he explained.
"You don't have to live like you're on the run any more Harry, the war is over" said Mrs Weasley.
Harry shut his eyes "Go home please. I'm going to sleep" said Harry.
"Harry?" asked Mrs Weasley "Why won't you spend a few galleons on a bed?"
"Because I don't fucking have a few galleons. This place cost forty thousand to have re-floored. I'm working two jobs, and I live in a tent. Happy now? Go home" said Harry, eyes still closed.
Huffy breathing continued. Harry opened his eyes and Mrs Weasley, and more embarrassingly Mr Weasley were standing there.
"Er, Harry are you short a few Galleons?" asked Mr Weasley "I figured the Blacks' would be quite rich."
"Were" said Harry tiredly "The goblins took all the gold. No gold. Same reason Ron can't use Gringotts. Or Hermione."
The fireplace whooshed, and Harry opened his eyes, the Weasleys had left. Harry went back to sleep.
-==0==-
After a breakfast of scrambled eggs, bacon, and hangover potion, Harry went to work.
Arthur Weasley approached Harry awkwardly at lunch. "Er Harry… you… lost all your gold?" he asked.
Harry cast a privacy charm. "Yes. Goblins hate having their banks robbed." said Harry.
"Uh… we could organise a whip-around, get you some beds and things" said Mr Weasely.
"I've got a bed in the tent Arthur. I'm fine." said Harry. "I don't need charity."
"If that's how you feel, I suppose "said Arthur, leaving Harry alone.
-==0==-
Of course, Arthur Weasley hadn't really let it go, he just organised a raffle at the Ministry, proceeds to reconstruction from the war. Afterwards, he left Harry a sack of gold in his front hall with a note "So you can have some furniture. Love Arthur, and everyone else."
Harry found it, and though he didn't really have time, went to a secondhand store looking for beds.
"I want a bed" said Harry.
"You're Harry Potter, wow… um, here's the best bed I've got" said the shopkeeper. "So you need anything else?"
"Fifty four bedrooms worth of furniture" said Harry sarcastically. "Thought I could furnish some attic rooms I suppose if you only had a lot of sixty"
"Oh, its… well that would cost rather a lot" said the shopkeeper.
"What if it was all really cheap stuff?" asked Harry.
"That's hardly appropriate for you, Mister Potter" said the shopkeeper "You're… Harry Potter."
"Well I want to spend no more than fifty galleons" said Harry. "So what do I get for that? Broken or heavily cursed is fine."
"Heavily cursed?" asked the shopkeeper, "I suppose you find curse breaking very easy. Being… well you..."
"It's a knack" said Harry drily.
"I don't… have a lot of heavily cursed things… but I could um… make enquiries. There are a lot of families with attics full of the stuff. If that didn't bother you, you could have it for the cost of portkeys and my hourly rate" admitted the shopkeeper.
"And how much would they have paid you to get rid of the cursed furniture" asked Auror Potter, taking out his notebook.
The shopkeeper smiled nervously "Enough to um… make it worthwhile for me" they admitted.
-==0==-
Over the next week, Harry's otherwise empty ballroom at Black Manor filled up with piles of cursed furniture.
Kreacher was ecstatic.
"So much to dust, and so magical" gibbered Kreacher.
The elder wand crushed the curses like gnats. Harry felt the overpowering urge to use the wand, to correct things using the magic that thrummed in it. And so, he put the wand away once the furniture was de-cursed.
Days later, Harry was looking at a wardrobe he'd just finished putting in a spare bedroom, you could practically see yourself in the reflection of the varnish. And something else moving, but Harry tended to ignore the vague figures.
The next day, as an experiment, Harry tried using the master bedroom. The bed had no mattress, but the tent's bed was fine. The dressing table mirror whispered to Harry.
"Come join us" it whispered in a voice both familiar and strange, and breathy like the wind in the trees.
Ten galleons got Harry a mattress and bedding. Maybe was okay to sleep outside the tent.
The other rooms have whatever lumpy old mattresses were on the beds Harry paid to have delivered.
There are of course, very few sheets, no spare pillows, or towels or bedding.
Kreacher unpacked some linens from somewhere, and ten rooms have sheets. Harry supposed he'd taken the Grimmauld place stuff. It's all old and smells bad.
Harry went to see George and asks about getting some pounds from galleons.
"Oh I've got a box full, the exchange rate's pretty bad" said George. "Take some. You're due a dividend as a shareholder. My cousin the accountant worked it out."
George went to his office, upstairs at Wheezes, and looked in a drawer system made of bedpans, pulling out a neatly computer printed report "Crazy writing he's got."
Harry read the bottom line. Four hundred and eleven galleons. This year.
"George, there's a mistake. This is more than I get paid to be an Auror." said Harry.
"I'd hope so." said George "You invested a thousand, and Wheezes has grown and grown. We're buying out Zhonkos soon. We'll re-brand their shop in Hogsmeade as a Wheezes. Fleur's got a cousin who wants to open a branch in Paris. We're going international."
"Because there' a huge market for fake poo?" asked Harry sarcastically.
"Fake dog poo sells really well to security conscious people who don't like dogs." said George with a smug smile. "We make about a hundred a year on fake poo."
"Shit" said Harry.
"Only looks like it. It's clay and pigment. The stinky ones have some potion mixed in." admitted George "And there are non-marking versions for use indoors."
George leaned closer "And our chocolate flavoured poo , well it sells very well, considering it's just christmas truffles rolled out long."
"People buy… edible fake dog poo?" asked Harry, aghast.
"People ask if we sell an additive for real poo to make it taste better." said George "There are some real sickos out there."
Harry went a bit green. "Yuck" he said.
"So your share for one year comes to … four hundred and eleven. Take five times that in pounds. The goblins charge six to one to get galleons, and pay five to one to buy pounds.
Harry got his notebook and pencil out and worked that out. "Two thousand pounds" said Harry "Wow."
"Is that a lot?" asked George.
"I dunno. I've only ever had twenty. I should buy some new bedding." admitted Harry.
The muggle store selling bedding Harry found shocked him. A respectable looking set was about two hundred and eighty pounds.
The next store he looked in, he figured a set would cost about a hundred pounds.
"Can I help you?" asked a middle-aged man wearing a badge that said his name was Adrian.
"I need fifty-four sets of bedding and towels" asked Harry "It's a bit pricey?"
"Oh. You're in the trade, you should go to Hotel Supply, in the east end. You'll save a bundle.
Harry found the hotel supplier, once he found them was about half the price. So he bought forty-five sets.
Kreacher felt that having everything the same colour was shameful, so Harry colourvaria'd the duvet covers.
Next time Molly Weasley snooped his bedrooms, she'd find beds and bedding.
Maybe not curtains, but he was a bachelor, and the house had shutters.
George raised the spectre of the other three years worth of dividends over lunch in the back room of Wheezes.
"You should take another thousand galleons" said George "Get some curtains and stuff."
Harry ate some more of what he was sure was a Molly Weasley pie "From where? Finding bedding took a whole bloody day. And stuff that… doesn't look too cheap is really expensive. I can't take a day off anytime I feel like it."
"Well you can, you know" said George. "Your share of the profits is more than Ron's making as an Auror, so you could quit and do some bloody gardening. The gardenz at your place are a disgrace. I seen yur old garden is Surrey."
"What's with the accent?" asked Harry.
"Being authentically Devon" said George "Like it?"
"Not really. Sounds a bit … put-on" said Harry.
"And half the girls at Hogwarts didn't put on an accent. I've been talking to the shopkeepers, some from Knockturn Alley. Hogwarts… is posh. They think I'm posh, and I'm a Weasley." said George.
"Well, that is a spiffing top hat and tails" said Harry.
"Yes, yes it is, and the witch who I woo thinks so too" said George.
"Ange?" asked Harry.
"She always liked Fred better, but as she says, better some than none" said George.
Harry stared at the ceiling for a bit. "How does that work." he asked finally.
"Well, I always was better looking, she pitied him" joked George.
"Still miss him" asked Harry.
"Every day." said George. "How about you and… Sirius?"
"I want to miss him" admitted Harry "But we only really had one summer, and he was weird, I wasn't in a good place mentally. And I kept thinking… he should have stayed with me, at mum and dad's house."
"I think he probably had years in Azkaban to think that" said George.
"I dunno about curtains and stuff" said Harry, changing the topic, "I only know what my aunt did, which was ugly, your mums house, and what was rotting at Grimmauld place, and I suppose glimpses of Malfoy Manor. I really have no idea."
"I'll ask Ange, one of her friends will know someone" said George.
Katie Bell's Aunt Eladora Whiste, a dark haired witch who wore a short pointed hat, large, dark rimmed glasses and a cape came on Harry's day off to see the Manor.
"Oh how terribly last century" she said, stepping out of the fireplace into the front hallway.
"I sort of like the furniture, some of it, it's curtains and rugs and decoration and stuff" said Harry.
"Young man, you might be a famous war hero, but surely you have some idea what you like?" asked Eladora, pursing her purple lips.
Harry explained about his relatives lack of taste, that Grimmauld had been all rotting curtains, and only having seen bits of Malfoy Manor and well... the Weasley's house.
"You'll have to visit people, go see other styles" said Eladora.
"I hate the publicity, the whole … boy who lived, man who conquered thing" admitted Harry.
"Well, perhaps you can tour Europe. Do you know anyone well connected in, say France?" asked Eladora.
A sudden thought of Gabrielle Delacour, who must be nearly fifteen now, caused Harry to freeze up.
"Oh, you have an ex in France too, you're very discreet. That's compliment, by the way." said Eladora, striding off into the drawing room.
"Can't you just have a young lady from one of the good families sort this out for you" she yelled, a trifle tactlessly, Harry thought from his drawing room.
Harry went into the drawing room, where Eladora was inspecting his drinks cabinet in the shape of a globe.
"Pedestrian drinks selection, but you're not trying to make a statement" she said, closing the lid.
"Curtains, Rugs?" asked Harry.
Eladora walked around, criticising the rooms, and finally asking "Where did you get such boring bedlinen?"
"A muggle hotel supply store" admitted Harry.
"But you have decent furniture, these beds are all different, but interesting" she observed.
Harry explained about the cursed furniture.
Eladora pointed at the bed for a moment, laughing "Oh Maeves' minge. You're the mysterious cursed objects disposal service." she said.
Harry nodded "But I have furniture."
"Well, you have no preferences?" asked Eladora.
"Something… that goes with the house and furniture, that doesn't look pretentious" explained Harry.
"Well there is a way you can get that all sorted, all you need do is marry someone from a tasteful family" said Eladora "And they'd do some other things, but is that a problem? Personal preferences?"
"I'm not really in the mood, honestly and I'm far too busy with being an Auror." said Harry.
"Well, are you sure you have no family who can help? A distant Aunt?" asked Eladora.
"Oh… Aunt Andromeda. Andromeda Tonks nee Black. We're sort of related these days" said Harry.
"Distantly through the Potters, and you inherited all Sirius's things, and the family headship?" asked Eladora.
Harry looked at the mantelpiece, where three ravens were engraved on a shield "I sort of did" admitted Harry.
"And you don't style yourself Harry Potter Black?" she asked "It would have cachet."
"Only at formal things" said Harry sulkily.
