Harry Potter and something (Still Untitled)

Author/ff.net: Azrael
Paring: Harry P./Ron W.
Rating: GP at least for this chapter.
Disclaimer: Not mine, my idol JK Rowling owns them, I'm just playing in the sandbox that she created.
Warning: this is **slash**, actually it's going to be, for this chapter and probably the next one would be for General Audiences.
Notes: This happens after the gang graduates from Hogwarts. Roughly after twelve years in a world that I hope would be the real one in the books, but I know it wouldn't be. so let me have my fun and please review, and give me ideas on how to make the story better.

Chapter One: Questions and Dreams

****

"Protect my Daddy, Uncle George and Fred, Uncle Percy and Oliver, Grandma, Grandpa, Uncle Charlie and his dragons, Uncle Bill and Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny and Uncle Colin and also Aunt Hermione and Uncle Vicky. And take care of my mum, please tell her that I love her and that I miss her, and tell her don't worry that I'm taking care of daddy and I'm making him drink his vitamins and stuff,"

Ronald Weasly listened to his eight year old son, Ruelf, as he knelt at the side of his bed. His words were like a wand through his heart. Ruelf, bless his little heart seems to be handling the death of her mother much better than he did. His eyes had never lost their light and his smile is as big as ever. Ron thanked the heavens everyday for keeping his son by his side, he wouldn't know how he'd cope if he lost him.

"and don't forget I'm going to be nine in five months and I still haven't got a letter from Hogwarts, tell Professor Dumbledor to send it now I know that I'm too young but I know lots of magic that Aunt Hermione taught me so I'd make a good Gryffindor -" This request may seem odd to most people, but Ronald's family isn't most people, They're wizards and witches. They do fly in brooms to get to places, well that and Floo powder or by portkey, they do wear robes, but most of them don't have warts on top of their crooked nose, although Victor Krum, his best friend's husband, has the most crooked nose that Ron knows. Ron smiled, remembering the time, when Hermione gave Ruelf a mock potions exam, and his son added a little too much leech juice, suffice to say it was a disaster, cauldron began it's bubbling sound and before they knew it, some of the liquid were spewed in every direction and one such landing was Hermione's own husband, Viktor, with the boils and warts appearing on the famous seeker's nose, he looked like the quintessential witch, even his wife, Herm-own-ninny couldn't stop herself from laughing only the pout of her husband lips made her stop. .

"Thank you kindly," Ruelf concluded, he got up from his knees and hopped into the white-canopied bed that Fleur, insisted that he'd have even though he was a boy. Ron squeezed his sons little body, and tucked the bundle to the bed. Ruelf leaned upward and wrapped his short arms around his father's chest. "I love you Daddy."

Ron hugged his son back, glad that he had his son, and that he loved his father as much as his father loved him. "And I love you too, Ruelf." He said before helping him lie down again. He'd been a parent long enough to know that though the child's words was sincere, he wasn't above using them to extend his nine p.m. bedtime a few minutes longer.

"Oh, Daddy, do I have to sleep now? I'm not even sleepy yet.." his son explained, but gave a yawn as soon as he uttered those words.

"Yes, you do, young man." Ron answered with a smile, his voice full of love and warmth for his son. He ruffled his red hair, that was so like his own. When he got the smile that he wanted, he leaned over and kissed his forehead. "Good night, my little wizard."

"Goodnight Daddy, Sleep tight, and don't let the boggarts bite."

"We don't have a boggart on the house, Ruelf." He said, performing his role in their nightly ritual. His son giggled as his father left the room, closing the door behind him.

Ron trooped down the carpeted stairways of their recently renovated fifty year old house he and Ruelf shared. Some of his friends told him that he was daft to move out of the house he and Fleur had bought. His son needed the continuity they said, it wasn't wise to uproot the child for the home that he was borne in. But Ron didn't agree, and those who knew him best are behind him on this particular decision. He and his son needed a fresh new start. They brought most of the furniture with them, so things were the same, but some weren't. This home, in some way is still their old home, but without the pain. This house held hope for new beginning.

Ron hunkered down at the teak desk in the first-floor room he'd designed as his office and pulled out the reports and files for the Goodall deposition. He worked at the Ministry of Magic, legal division, not many wizard folk needed a lawyer, but that was what he was, though he worked at the ministry, he also have a private practice so to speak. When witches and wizards, feel that they've been had, like their broom wasn't flying properly and they got an unfortunate in flight accident due to some hex cast upon it, they go to him to sue and get them compensation. Kind of like when muggles have a car accident or any accident. Muggles is what the wizards and witches called non-magic folks, someone who doesn't own any broom that flies, so to speak. This particular case was crazy to say the least, Goodall was accusing his client that he cursed his broom, just because his client took his time looking at his broom. Goodall was saying that his client was hexing his broom to cause his accident, he wasn't hurt and the broom wasn't hexed, but he still felt that he was wronged. Rubbing his forefinger and thumb on his forehead. That's why he kept advising Kinnison to wear glasses so he didn't have to squint too much when looking. He said that he was only looking at Goodall Cleansweep, and for all intents and purposes, he believes his client, unfortunately Goodall doesn't, the stupid git, wouldn't listen to reason.

Being one of the best wizard barrister, Ron does get to choose his cases, but sometimes he was still forced to work extended hours. He made it a point to hold off overtime until Ruelf was asleep. That decision resulted in many long nights, but the uninterrupted time with his son is more than worth it.

For the millionth time, Ron wished that he'd listened to his mum, when she tried to tell her that family is important, but he didn't listen, but now he understood.

Family was important. He wished that he and Fleur could have shared more nights with Ruelf, watching him grow. But wishing couldn't change the past, however much he wanted it too. The fact, that he hadn't been a good husband to his wife until she was too sick to enjoy him. He just hoped that when she looks down on them now, that she'd take some joy in that, seeing that he'd learned what she and his mother had tried to tell him. It wasn't much, but it was all that he could hope for.

**********

"Daddy," Ruelf said the next morning at breakfast, his mouth full with one of the blueberry pancakes that Ron had prepared for breakfast.

"Now, Ruelf, what did I tell you about talking when your mouth is full. I've told you about that a million times." Ron chided. He placed three pancakes and four strips of bacon on his own plate and sat at the kitchen counter next to his son.

"Sorry, Daddy. I forgot." Ruelf said, his mouth still full.

Ron hid his smile by taking a swallow of his coffee. He found it to be one of the toughest parental jobs, keeping a straight face when his son did something funny.

"Daddy." Ruelf said again, this time with no food on his mouth. "Do you think that it's time for me to have another parent?"

Ron almost choked on his pancakes and then patted his chest to get the air flowing into his lungs again.

"Are you alright, Daddy?" his son asked, his eyes full of fear. The one look that Ron had hoped never to see again. Fear. Fear of losing someone that he loves. Fear of something tragic happening.

Ron quickly swallowed the food that was lodged on his throat and reassured his son that he was fine.

"So," Ruelf repeated, "do you think that I would have a new mommy soon?"

Ron looked into the big, blue eyes, that was so identical to Fleur's and tried to stall for time. "Why pumpkin, do you want a new mommy?"

Ruelf scrunched up his nose while he pondered his fathers' question, his milk mustache twitching as he perused his lips. "Well, Mommy said that I would get a new parent when it was time. Do you think that it's time yet, Daddy?"

Ron had felt sucker-punched. Fleur had said that to their son? He gazed out the kitchen window at the clear morning sky, a hint of a sunny day to come, and tried to come out with the appropriate answer to his son's question. He hadn't formed one when he returned his gaze to his son. "Ruelf, what made you think of this now?"

He hunched his small shoulders and stabbed his fork into his remaining pancakes. "All the other kids I know, have mommies. Kyrie has Aunt Hermione. Hal, has two daddies, Uncle Percy and Uncle Oliver, and my friend Sarah got a new mommy after hers died. I just thought that it would be time for God to give me one. I mean I'm the only kid I know that has only one parent."

The matter of fact way that his son answered his question relieved some of his anxiety. It didn't appear as he's been thinking about it for too long or too hard about the new parent that Fleur had promised him. He still had time to formulate an answer.

He glanced at his wristwatch, that his best friend Harry Potter had given him for his twenty fifth birthday. "It's time for us to go pumpkin. Finish your breakfast so I can get you to Mum before I go to the ministry. We'll talk about your new parent tonight."

Ruelf efficiently finished his breakfast as Ron knew he would. His son has always loved to go to the Burrow, he knew that he could ask his grandmother to prepare any food that he wanted without having to do chores, unlike his father.

Ruelf chatted excitedly as he prepared his books to go to his grandparents. Ron smiled at his son, but his thoughts were still on his earlier question. He thought that he did a good job with his son, but obviously he needed another parent figure. He needed a new mommy, so to speak.

When his son finished, he stood at the fireplace. Smiling at his father, he grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it at the fireplace. "The Burrow." Ruelf said clearly, he looked back at his father, "Don't forget tonight Daddy, Uncle Harry would be coming to dinner later, so don't be late, he promised to bring me a Puddlemere United pajamas." With one last smile in his father's direction, Ruelf walked into the flames and was gone.

Ron looked at the grandfather clock at the corner. It was not your ordinary clock. It was completely useless if you wanted to know the time, but otherwise it's very informative. It had three golden hands, each of them was engraved with the names of his family. There were no numerals around it, but the descriptions of where each family might be. "Home," "school," "work," but there was also "traveling," "the Burrow," "hospital," "mortal peril," and in the position of where the number six would be on a normal clock, was "eternal rest" where his wife's name has been in for the last three years. He still haven't had the heart to remove her name off of it.

When the hand bearing his sons name, moved from "traveling" to "the Burrow" he grabbed some floo powder for himself and threw it at the fireplace. He could apparate if he wanted to, but to that, he needed to be able to visualize where he wanted to appear in, and for that he needed a clear mind. Unfortunately, his son's question had managed to unnerve him, so to be safe he decided to use the same method as did Ruelf some moments ago (floo powder – put a dash of powder into your fireplace thru the power of the Floo network, you'd get to appear in the fireplace where you wanted to be) "Diagon Alley!" he said, and moved into the flames. All that was left was the movement of Ron's name on the clock, from traveling to work and then all was silent

**********

From his seat on the overstuffed couch in his living room. Harry Potter stared at the envelope propped against his lamp on the side table. He'd picked it up, earlier this morning when he returned from his on-road Quidditch matches. A game like no other, a sport for Witches and Wizards, a game played with fourteen players, six hoops and four balls. Where the object is to score as many goals (each goal is worth ten points) as you can on your three hoops before the golden snitch (which is worth 150 points to the team that catches it), is caught, which signals the end of the match, while riding a broom. The team who scores the most points while avoiding two bludgers that would knock you off your broom, at the end of the game wins.

His owl Hedwig, gave it to him as soon as he entered the foyer, but as yet still haven't opened it. He knew where the letter is from. The mark that was on the wax on the envelope was a dead giveaway. A letter H, signifying that it came from Hogwarth, Harry Potter's school, where he finished his studies. He exhaled a deep breath. Who knew that a letter would have this effect on him? He wondered. It was only a letter, the fact the it didn't come from the post, didn't matter, because what's normal for Wizards such as himself is to receive it by owls, or any bird for that matter, if there's no owl available.

Now, that was a lie. It was more than a letter. It was the symbol of the best thing that could probably happen to him. He knew that this kind of logic was preposterous, he had a good life, well, not the first eleven years that he remembered, but the next years, well, he wouldn't trade those years. He grimaced, if he was honest maybe he could trade maybe seven years after Hogwarts.

Harry moved slowly towards the letter, he was being melodramatic, he told himself. He picked up the crisp envelope and opened it. He took a deep breath and began reading.

Dear Mr. Harry Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Attached herein are the books that would serve as the curriculum for this years term.

Term begins on the 1st of September. We await your owl no later than June 30.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,
Deputy Headmistress

Harry pushed his unruly black hair away from his face. It was a losing battle, for as long as he can remember his hair hasn't been manageable. He even tried a holding charm on it once to hold it in it's place, but his best friend Ron said, that it looked like he placed a dollop of Bobotuber's pus on top of his head and it gone bad. Harry didn't try to do it again. Thoughts of his hair, didn't seem to faze the joy that crept on to his face. Hedwig, seeing that his owner was wearing that goofy grin while staring at the corner wall flew across the room to perch on Harry shoulders. Nipping Harry's ear, his owl got his attention back and with a shake of his snow white feathered body, gave a hoot and flew towards his water bowl.

"Thanks, Hedwig." Harry called, but still the grin remained. He couldn't help it. This is what he had always wanted. But Cho, his ex-wife had other ideas, she wanted her husband to be somewhere where he can make more of himself. Though the name Harry Potter is as famous as any wizard or witches that had ever lived, she wanted more. She wanted to be the quintessential athlete's-athlete wife. Though he and Cho shared a passion that was ten degrees above boiling, he realized that they didn't have the deep, abiding friendship it took to make it through the normalcy (though what they perceive as normal, isn't what muggles [non magic folks] would define it.) When the passion fizzled, so did their marriage. They were divorced, he looked at his watch, two weeks, three days, and seven hours, but has been living apart for almost two years now.

Soon after they stopped living together, Harry had learned about Fleur's illness and understood that his best friend Ron, needed a help with his son. It was easy to pack up and move back home, nearer to the Weasly household. Cho, hadn't argued the move, she too knew that their marriage were over.

Surprisingly, since that time some two years back, he and Cho had developed a certain friendship that was absent during their ten year marriage. Cho has been signed up as the new Appleby Arrows assistant coach, just after their divorced has been finalized, while Harry…. Well, Harry is going to be a teacher.

Harry picked up the envelope again, and turned it over in his hands a couple of times before getting up and heading for his bedroom. He'd been smart to catch an earlier portkey than the rest of his teammates. He needed the time to absorb the news and savor the experience. Looking at the wall clock (a normal one), he noticed that he still have two hours to get ready before he is needed at the Burrow. Now, that would be amazing, he knows that the his best friends are going to be ecstatic as soon as they find out.

At that thought, Hermione Granger-Krum voice seemed to fill his head. Competent and calm.

"You got the job! Harry that's great. Do you want me to help you with your lessons? I just purchased this new book by Newt Scamander, Fantastic Beasts and Where to find them, 60th edition. I also have the latest one from Quentin Trimble, The Dark Forces: Guide to Self-Protection. I could work on it now, if you'd like. Id be finish before you can say Divination sucks."

Yes, that would be Hermione's words, There would be no time to savor the news, time to hit the books. Though there's no doubt, that Hermione would do a great job, Harry doesn't want that, He wanted to do this the way he wanted to do it. Besides, Harry thought, his best-friend had enough work on her plate, being a head of the Muggle Relations Department, although from her point of view, you can never have too much work. The More Work you have, the merrier, is what she likes to say.

In a moment, a vision of his other best-friend, Ron Weasley's reaction would be. Ron's red hair and his ear splitting grin started to swim before Harry, wearing a goofy expression.

"You, the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Man, Snape would have your head my friend. That's not unexpected is it? Since you did defeat You-Know-Who. That's just wicked, Congratulations my friend…..Now, when would you take all us out to dinner to celebrate…. Wait, I know that Mum would love to have an excuse to prepare a feast."

Mrs. Weasly is Ron's mum, and has since adopted Harry like a son, since he was teenager. Ever since his husband Arthur, had been appointed as Minister of the Ministry of Magic, Mrs. Weasly had always wanted to have an excuse to celebrate. When Harry was young, The Weasly's hadn't had a galleon (wizard's money) to rub together, but after the defeat of Voldemort (You-Know-Who), they were rewarded for their hard work, and now the Weasly are now one of the most prominent family in the Wizarding world. In Harry's opinion, there's no family greater than the Weasly, even money hadn't changed their kind and compassionate nature, if you wanted further proof, the fact that they still live on the same house they've been in for years, even though they have more than enough money to buy a mansion would be proof enough..

Once inside his bedroom, he dropped the letter on his desk and moved towards his bathroom. Well, he still had time to soak on his tub for half an hour, which in Harry's opinion, is just the way to celebrate the appointment.

**********

An hour and half later, the figure of Harry Potter, dressed in dark green sweater and black denim pants, appeared out of thin air and into the living room of the Weasly household in the Burrow. The ample figure of Mrs. Weasly was the on who first caught sight of him. "Good Evening, Harry," Mrs. Weasly said, she was smiling, "you're just in time, we'd be having dinner in the gardens in a few minutes." She was, a short, plum, kind-faced woman, truly a motherly figure for him.

Before Harry can return her greeting, there were a loud explosion that came from the general direction of the garage. Suddenly her demeanor changed to that of a angry, saber-toothed tiger. "For crying out loud," she snapped and started walking towards the source of the noise. "Those two!" she burst out, that tone indicated that she was referring to her twin sons, Fred and George, "honestly, you'd think that after all these years and a successful business, they'd learn to keep their heads out of trouble, no wonder they can't find a wife, no woman on their right mind would take them." Before moving completely out of the living room, she glanced back at Harry, her face returning to their calm façade. "Now, dear, Ron and Ruelf are in the garden, why don't you join them and tell them that we'd be eating as soon as Arthur gets home." With that final remark, she stomped out of sight.

Harry moved to the kitchen and headed out the back door, he had gone only a few paces, when a small figure came barreling straight to him. He didn't need to hear the high-pitched squeak to know that it was his godson Ruelf. Harry had fallen in love with the kid, and had treated him like a son, since he was born. Their relationship had always benefited both of them, Harry thought. Ruelf was son that he had always wanted but had never had the fortune to have. And Harry was the Uncle who spoiled the kid rotten. He smiled.

""Uncle Harry?" Ruelf asked when he finally let go of Harry's waist. The wonder in his eyes made Harry's smile even wider. He gestured at the bag that his uncle was holding, but his eyes never left Harry's face, "is that for me?"

"Of course it is, sport," Harry answered. He extended the gift. "Guess what I brought you today?"

His godson gave him an ear-splitting grin, "My Puddlemere United pajamas?"

"Of course," Harry leaned down and kissed Ruelf on his forehead, "just like I told you that I would." Harry said, automatically ruffling the child's red hair. "Where's everyone?"

Ruelf gleefully took the package and gestured towards the backyard. "Aunt Ginny is setting the table, Aunt Hermione is feeding Kyrie, Uncle Oliver and Uncle Percy is giving Hal a bath, he slipped on some mud earlier. Daddy's cooking steaks on the grill.", he added almost as an afterthought.

As if he'd heard that they were talking about him, Ron chose that particular moment to make his entrance. He sported a faded blue jeans, and a Chudley Cannons (another Quidditch team) sweatshirt that was glaringly orange that it should have clashed with his red hair horribly, but all it did was to fit him like he was made to wear those kind of outfit. It suited his muscular six feet two frame.

"Hey Har," Ron said, his deep voice full of warmth for his best friend. "What's up with you?" He pulled Harry into a hug. "So good to see you mate, we almost forgot what you looked like when we didn't see you for a month."

"That's rubbish." Said a voice that came from the general direction of the patio. It was Hermione, cradling her baby girl in her arms. "It's not as if, we don't see his face on the paper every other day or so," Hermione chided, "it's always the same. Harry Potter caught the snitch in record time. Harry Potter, still the best seeker in all of England…twelve years and the wonderful Potter is still going strong…"

Harry smiled and gave his best friend a kiss on both her cheeks, "I see you haven't change, still looking as lovely as ever."

Hermione smirked, "Now, Mr. Potter, flattery would get you everywhere.." then she returned the warmth of her greetings. "We missed you Har, how long do you plan to stay this time? Really Harry, you would think that you could still drop us a line every few weeks just to let us know that you're still alive."

"I'm sorry about that. I shan't do it again, or at least I don't think that I would anytime soon."

"What do you mean by that Harry?" Ron asked, apparently his steaks has all been forgotten by the arrival of his best friend , but when smoke started to emanate from the grill, Ron all but apparated to the steaks. "Bollocks, we'll talk about it later, the steaks are burnin'. Mum's going to have my head." He all but smacked his forehead, but with both his hands busy turning the steaks over, it all proved to be an impossible task.

Harry knew from both his friends words, that the conversation isn't truly over, just postponed, and that's fine with him, he'd rather share the news with all his family. He really wanted to share this great news with them, he knows that they would be happy for him, and that they'll be able to understand. But he also knew that Ron and Hermione would wait until they were alone, the three of them, before really asking the questions that was on their heads. Maybe with both their help, Harry finally could get some resolution and move forward with his life.