Chapter 17

Sorting Things Out

They'd worked for what seemed like forever to make the place look fantastic. And now it did. Harry had surveyed the house before leaving for work and realised the full extent of the task he was about to undertake. Years before he had removed the portraits and tapestry's that his Godfather had hated in his lifetime, and that had greatly improved the general feel of the house. No longer was it somewhere Death Eaters would like to frequent and Harry had taken no notice from that point. But Ron's comments the night before had bothered Harry.

Always before Harry had simply been happy to have his own place; when Hermione had lived there it looked so much better than before just by removing the relics of the past and she'd never complained about the décor – it simply wasn't important. But now Harry had someone new to consider - Jamie. Harry had already spent some time decorating Jamie's room in Gryffindor colours with moving pictures of the English Quidditch team, and various charts and diagrams detailing famous moves in Quidditch history. He loved it; it was just what he would have wanted when he was younger and he couldn't wait to show Jamie. What Harry had failed to do though, was to consider the rest of the house.

Surveying it there was only one word that sprang to his mind; Awful. It wasn't a home, it hardly looked like anyone even lived there – there wasn't even any pictures on the wall. It wasn't even clean, it was probably last decorated when Sirius' mother was born and, Harry noted grimly, it smelt. He'd left for work that day and didn't honestly think that a few days was going to be long enough to make it fit for Hermione and Jamie to live in. He'd felt depressed and desolate but he was determined to make it better when he got home. He'd even looked up common cleaning and decorating spells whilst he was in the office, before Kinglsey Shacklebolt had spotted him and asked him politely to return to his 'superficial work of keeping the wizarding world safe from the looney Death Eater brigade'. He left bang on six o'clock – an extremely unusual event for him, since he was usually last to leave – and returned home with a feeling of dread settling over him. The one thing he hadn't counted on was Ginny.

Ron had promised that he would call in as soon as he'd checked on Arthur, and Luna would join them later in the evening. So, when Harry walked into the living room and heard voices he'd assumed it was them. So he shouted 'hello' and strolled into the kitchen and was quite surprised to see Ginny stirring what seemed to be a pot of stew and her fiancé Mark sat at the table.

"Hi Harry." She said, looking at him strangely.

"Hi?"

"Hiya mate" Mark said to Harry, and then "Babes I'm just gonna nip home and get that stuff – that ok?"

"Sure" Ginny said, still staring at Harry as Mark left. "Ron told me you wanted to clean the house up, so I thought I'd help – hope you don't mind that we started already?"

Harry thought it was odd that Ginny was talking to him like that – like they weren't close and that it was unusual for her to pop in when he wasn't there, because it wasn't. Then he remembered. She'd known all along. He stared at her unsure of what to say or how to feel. Here was Ginny, best friend and confidant. Loyal to him. Would die for him. Nearly did in seventh year. Lied to him.

His stomach had churned over and over as he kept staring, searching her face for a clue as to why she wouldn't tell him about his own son. Eventually she spoke-

"Its ok if you hate me Harry. I really wouldn't blame you. I wanted to tell you-really I did-"

"Then why didn't you?" Said Harry in a surprisingly calm voice.

"Because it was Hermione's choice; she had to tell you – I was so sure she'd change her mind when the baby was born. But she's stubborn-she believed she was doing the best for you-that it would make you happy in the long run and that's all she wanted... I'm sorry Harry." She'd said.

Eventually-"Its ok Gin-really. I don't want to concentrate on the past now-just the future."

He'd been really surprised at his whole attitude to Ginny. But he didn't care anymore. He didn't want to dwell on the past when his future was something he was actually looking forward to. So he, Ginny and Mark had got on with the cleaning. Ron and Luna had turned up a little while later and had taken control of most of the second floor, while Harry had taken on the first floor with Ginny sorting out the foul kitchen and Mark the attic.

Between them that had transformed the house. Looking at Harry couldn't remember why he'd not done all this before – it looked so much better. Never had anyone to impress before though did you Potter – 'Mione didn't stick around that long.

On the second night they were ready to start choosing the colour schemes for each room, and whilst Ron and Mark were not in the least bit bothered, Harry found himself strangely interested in which colours looked best in which type of room. Of course Luna and Ginny decided his tastes wouldn't really be appreciated by Hermione and so eventually took control.

With only one night to go before Hermione and Jamie would join him, everything looked perfect. He was happy with how his place looked and that was a new experience for him. And so he sat, content, in the luxurious sofa in the living room, thanking his lucky stars that his friends had helped so much. Molly and Arthur, Tonks, Lupin and even Dumbledore had called in to help at different points, all being acutely aware of how much it meant to Harry. He was feeling pretty happy with himself –only one more night to go.

The nights since he left Hermione's place had been spent tossing and turning when he'd eventually gone to bed. He'd been so knackered that sleep had eventually claimed him for a few hours before he'd need to get up for work. As long as he was busy he couldn't dwell. The fact that he'd had barely any sleep didn't bother him; he still felt happier than he had in a long time. He was smiling when he fell asleep, thinking of Jamie and Hermione and trying not to think how many minutes and seconds it would be before they were with him.

xxx

"Harry?" said the voice. "Harry are you there?"

"HERMIONE!" Harry yelled, sitting bolt upright on the settee. Memories of the past, of her being in trouble, flooded through him, as per usual when anything happened suddenly.

"Harry?" said her voice from the fire. It wasn't a frightened voice, just concerned. He looked. She was there. He composed himself quickly.

"'Mione." He looked at her sheepishly, and she half-wished he wouldn't call her that; wouldn't remind her of the past they had together.

"I'm sorry I woke you – I didn't think you'd be asleep yet – it's still early."

"Yeah – I was just dozing really. Er-is something wrong? You're still moving tomorrow right? You haven't changed your mind?" He said, moving towards the fire and trying to ignore the pleading sound in his voice.

"No- I mean – nothings wrong. I-well-" She half-laughed "-someone, wanted to say goodnight. You don't mind do you?"

"Hell no!" Her eyes narrowed at the use of his language. "I mean- that'd be great."

"Ok – he's never done this and he's a little nervous, even if he has nagged me to death today – he just really wants to speak to you."

"Me too" was all Harry could say wiping his eyes and hoping he wouldn't cry in front of his son; he'd think he was a right wimp.

"Jamie-"

"Can I speak now?"

"Of course darling – just do what I told you-"

There was shuffling at the other end, before Jamie came into view.

"Hello?"

"Hey Jamie!" A huge smile appeared in the fire.

"Mum says I got to be quick because its bedtime and I'm gonna be seeing you everyday from tomorrow anyway."

Yeah it's gonna be fantastic. "Ok Son" Son. How weird does that feel?

"I just wanted to say goodnight and to ask you something."

"Ask away" said Harry, the smile on his face still not diminished.

"Is it true that you could have played professional Quidditch?"

Harry chuckled to himself. "Did your Mum tell you that?"

"Yeah – is it true?"

"After I finished school I got an offer to play pro Quidditch, but I turned it down."

"So don't you think that the son of a nearly-pro Quidditch player should be allowed to learn how to fly?"

"You're too young Jamie Potter – I already said no." came the voice from the other side of the fire.

Jamie face fell and he sighed – "I better go to bed I guess."

"I guess you'd better. Goodnight Jamie."

"Goodnight Daddy." Daddy. He called me Daddy. I'm his Dad.

Harry didn't sleep that night. He wouldn't have been able to, even if he tried so he didn't bother trying. He just sat on the couch, smiling to himself and savouring the moment when his son had first called him Daddy.