Over the next week, it isn't unusual for Harry to come home to Fleur and Kreacher arguing, or even more ominously, the two of them with their heads lowered together in conspiratorial whispers. He tries to stay out of their way as much as possible.

Mostly that means retreating to Andromeda's. Caring for Teddy may be confusing and very, well, damp a lot of the time, but it is by far Harry's favorite activity. There's a lot to learn, but it's also surprisingly fun. Everything is just so new and interesting to Teddy, it's hard not to get caught up in that. Even his words are starting to make more sense the more Harry listens to them, and he can go longer and longer stretches caring for him on his own without panicking too much.

He tries not to crowd Andromeda though, letting her pick the times he can come over and designate how long he should stay. He thinks things are getting less frosty between them though, day by day.

When he's not there, he's taken to wandering around Muggle London in some attempt to regain that sense of anonymity he enjoyed in Australia. This is complicated by the fact that his two new Auror friends are still clearly following him. Ditching them isn't nearly as fun as annoying Gerard and Barina was.

On the days when he feels like he can handle it, he helps George at the shop, but those days aren't often. He feels stupid that he never considered his extended absence abroad might only make him more of a mystery, more of a spectacle.

So he avoids Wizarding areas, cares for Teddy, has dinner at the Burrow, and chats with Ginny at least every other night. It's his new life.

By Monday, the nagging guilt of blowing off Kingsley gets to be too much, so he finally walks up to the Aurors and says, "I'm ready to go in, if he has time."

One of them disappears—off to send a Patronus Harry can only assume—and less than fifteen minutes later they are heading for the Ministry.

If Harry thought being in Diagon Alley was bad, it's nothing next to walking into the Ministry. It's the middle of the day, so there aren't that many people in the atrium, but the ones who are stop and stare and don't even bother whispering.

A few people dart for the lifts upon seeing him, and Harry imagines he can feel the news of his arrival working its way through the building.

Sure enough, the halls get more and more crowded as they move towards the Minister's office.

"Harry."

Against his better judgment Harry pauses, glancing back over his shoulder. "Secretary Macmillan," he says, voice tight.

The wizard smiles, as if Harry remembering his name is some great honor. He'd find it less so if he knew Harry remembers him mostly as being one of the most annoying people he has ever met.

"I just wanted to say welcome home. We are all quite pleased to have you back."

"Are you?" Harry says, doubting that very much. It was probably nice to have him out of the way, leaving room to spin whatever 'truths' he liked.

Macmillan steps closer to Harry, head tilting towards him. "Just so you know, my offer still stands. I'd be happy to help you get started on your career as an Auror anytime." He smiles broadly at the two Aurors still trailing after him, definitely close enough to hear that, and for some reason Harry feels his face warm with equal measures of annoyance and shame.

"Thanks," Harry says, "but I'm doing just fine on my own."

The Secretary of Information's expression doesn't falter. "Well, my boy, you know where you can find me if you change your mind. You might be surprised. Perspective has a way of shifting when we least expect it."

Harry wants nothing more than to just be done with this conversation. "Well, if you'll excuse me, I really don't want to keep the Minister waiting."

He's fairly certain one of the Aurors snorts derisively at that—Harry's money is on the grumpy one—but he ignores it.

"Oh, of course. I imagine the two of you must have a lot to talk about."

"Goodbye, Secretary," Harry says, and starts moving back down the hallway again, pushing past the clutches of staring people.

The Minister's office sits behind an ornate door, more of a giant portal, like the entrances to those massive cathedrals he saw in a book once. The Aurors lead him into an outer office where there is another Auror and a woman behind a desk.

"Mr. Potter," the witch says, getting to her feet. "I will let the Minister know you are here."

"Great, thanks," Harry says, beginning to feel nervous despite himself. He blames the setting.

He barely perches on one of the chairs before the door opens again and he's jumping back to his feet.

"The Minister will see you now, Mr. Potter," she says.

"Oh, great. Thanks." He glances at the two Aurors, now standing at a loose sort of attention near the outer doors.

Turning for the large oaken doors, Harry eases inside the room. It's certainly big, with high ceilings and walls covered in portraits, but other than that it just seems to house a large desk and a few comfortable-looking chairs near a fireplace.

Kingsley smiles, getting up and coming around the enormous desk to greet him. "Harry," he says, holding out a hand and seeming genuinely pleased to see him.

"Minister," Harry says, taking the offered hand.

Kingsley shakes his hand firmly in both of his. "How are you?"

"Good," Harry says. "You?"

"Good," Kingsley echoes. "Let's sit, shall we?" He gestures towards two chairs near a fireplace.

They settle across from each other, the crackling fire radiating warmth.

"I appreciate you coming to see me," Kingsley says.

Harry tries to determine if there is any chastisement there, but can't really find anything in the even tone of his voice. "Sorry I couldn't make it sooner," he says all the same.

Kingsley's lips press together, and Harry has the bizarre impression that he's trying not to smile. "I hear you've been spending time with Andromeda and Teddy."

Harry stiffens. "Did you?"

"Molly mentioned it when she had me over for dinner last week. She and Arthur are thrilled to have you back." He gives Harry a knowing look. "Though not so thrilled to have you staying at Grimmauld."

"Oh," Harry says, wincing. "Yeah."

He leans in conspiratorially. "She actually demanded that I make you move. Write a decree or something."

Harry frowns. "I see. Is that why I'm here then?"

Kingsley laughs like he's made a particularly hilarious joke. He shakes his head. "I think Molly has the strange idea that being Minister means I can make anyone do what I want." He sighs. "If only that were true. I think I finally understand why Dumbledore always refused to even consider it."

"That's not why," Harry finds himself saying.

Kingsley's head lifts, regarding Harry closely with not a little curiosity. "No?"

Harry shakes his head. "He didn't trust himself with that much power."

That seems to take Kingsley by surprise, his expression sobering. "Is that so?" He looks down at his hands. "He always did say it's important to know yourself."

"Yeah," Harry says. "That sounds like him."

They sit silently, both lost in remembrances of Dumbledore, and it feels nice to have that.

"He would have been really proud of you, Harry. If he'd been here to see it."

He was, Harry thinks, but doesn't dare say. That is at least one certainty he gets to live with, no matter how confusing everything else can be.

"Do you think you'll take your NEWTs?"

Harry nods. "Hermione arranged it all with McGonagall before we left."

"Ah. I hope she's been enjoying her work at the Australian Ministry."

Harry winces. "Well, she certainly enjoyed talking our ears off about how they do things differently down there."

"Did she?" Kingsley says, looking thoughtful. "I'll be interested to hear what she has to say when she gets back."

"I'm sure she'd enjoy that."

Kingsley smiles. "Good." He leans back in his seat, resting his elbows on the armrests and threading his fingers together.

Harry looks away, glancing around at the opulent room; the enormous crystal chandelier, the floor-to-ceiling windows with a view over the Thames despite being hundreds of feet underground.

Harry shifts in his seat. "Was there something specific you wanted to see me about, Minister?"

Considering how urgent his message sounded, this has been a rather informal conversation about nothing in particular.

He shakes his head. "I just wanted to check in with you. See how you're doing, if you had any questions or concerns. If you needed me to do anything for you."

"Do that with all returning citizens, do you?" Harry says before he can stop himself.

Kingsley has the grace to look a little abashed. They both know Harry even being in the building is going to be commented on and interpreted in a myriad ways. Harry's support must still actually mean something, even if it's beyond him why.

"I really did just want to see how you are," he says.

Only they both know he could have done that in far less obvious ways.

"There is something you can do for me," Harry says, figuring he might as well take advantage of this meeting while he's here. "Get the Aurors pulled off me."

"Harry," he says, giving him a look like he's just asked to visit the moon.

"Look. Is there a specific threat I don't know about?"

"No," Kingsley says, though Harry isn't entirely certain he would tell him even if there were.

"I'm careful," he says. "And if you hear of something specific, then yeah. Sure. They can follow me around all they like. But otherwise I really don't like having people hanging out in front of my house. Or tracking my every move."

"Robards thinks it's a good idea," Kingsley says.

Maybe it's the mention of Robards, or just that Kingsley's calm tone feels patronizing, but Harry's temper sparks. "Ask Robards how he'd feel about me reinstating the Fidelius instead."

Kingsley's eyes narrow, because the threat is definitely clear. Not even the Ministry would be able to find him anymore if he does that. Not unless he chooses to let them know.

Harry crosses his arms over his chest. "Be tough to spy on me if he doesn't know where I am."

"The Ministry isn't spying on you, Harry."

But he's been thinking about it. About the special ward Bill felt the need to put on his house and the pictures of him and Cass in the papers. "Are you sure about that?"

Kingsley's eyebrows lift. "That's a bit paranoid, don't you think?"

Harry sighs, digging his fingers up under his glasses. "I'm pretty sure Mad-Eye would say there's no such thing."

Kingsley surprises Harry by laughing fondly. "Yeah. He probably would."

It's a reminder though, of who Kingsley is. Or was. That he was a part of all of this.

Harry leans forward, arms on his knees. "It just can't always be like this. It makes me feel like it's never going to be over. Like I'm never going to stop being the bloody Chosen One. I just want it to be over, okay? I want to be normal."

Kingsley looks a little thrown by this litany of words, and Harry really didn't intend to say them, but just couldn't help it. Kingsley nods slowly, staring down at his hands. "Okay, Harry," he says. "I'll have Robards pull them."

Harry straightens, admittedly surprised to actually have his request honored.

"But," Kingsley says, finger lifting and face stern, "we reserve the right to protect you if you attend large events, or if we discover any evidence of a specific threat."

"Fine," Harry says, more than happy to comply. "I'll tell you if I suddenly develop an interest in being a public spectacle if you keep me in the loop and tell me about any real threats."

Kingsley gives him a tired smile. "I think I can live with that."

Harry smiles back. "Good. Great."

Kingsley gets up, moving back behind his enormous desk and sitting behind it. "I do hope you find it, Harry. What you want. You certainly deserve it."

"Thanks," Harry says, pushing to his feet. "I'll leave you to it."

Kingsley nods, attention back to the stack of papers on his desk. Harry considers his lowered head, the way he seems to be aging under the weight of all of this.

"If there's ever anything I can do to help…" he can't help offering again.

Kingsley nods, giving him a fond smile. "Thanks, Harry. It's nice to have you back."

"It's nice to be back," he admits.

No matter how frustrating it can all be, one thing he has never doubted is that he made the right decision.

He gets back from the Ministry to find a Hogwarts owl waiting for him on the lower railing just outside the edge of the wards and protections. It's fast asleep, head tucked under its wing.

A few Muggles walking up the street give it rather wary glances.

"Hey," Harry says, giving the owl a gentle nudge.

It slowly lifts its head, spearing Harry with a rather reproachful look.

"Not a fan of those special wards, huh?" Harry says.

The owl holds its leg out, seeming to say, No time for stupid jokes, human. I'm a professional.

Harry quickly pulls the parchments off its leg. "Sure you don't need some food or water?"

The owl shakes out its feathers and lifts off, its wing buffeting against Harry's head.

He ducks, righting his glasses. "Yeah, thanks. You have a nice day too!" he calls out after it.

A pair of Muggles walking down the sidewalk stare at him as if he's insane. Ignoring them, he jogs up the rest of the steps, slipping inside the house. He takes the letter down into the kitchen with him, prodding the stove with his wand to boil some water.

While it's heating, Harry sits down at the table with the letter. There's actually two sheets, the outer one a letter from Ginny.

Harry-

How old-fashioned of me, using an owl. Luna finally perfected the new charms. (Instructions enclosed.) I figured it would be a little hard to charm the parchments while you were trying to read from yours. So here are your step by step instructions. It doesn't take that long. I managed to do mine this morning. So give it a try and let me know how it works!

-Ginny

The other sheet is covered with spindly writing he can only assume is Luna's. He's strangely grateful to update the old parchment rather than get a new one. He's maybe gotten a little attached to it.

The charms are more labor-intensive than difficult, so he has them done by nine that night. Just in time to test them out.

Testing, he writes. Almost by reflex, he reaches out to tap it with his wand, only to stop himself. It isn't long until Ginny responds.

Well, she writes. Look at that! They work.

Her words appear across the page, one at a time, and there is something strangely intimate about getting to watch the pacing and placement of her letters, knowing she is writing them right now somewhere hundreds of miles away.

There's no more hiding behind edits or pretending not to be struggling to come up with the right words, no more changing his idea halfway through a sentence.

Luna's a genius, he writes, figuring that's a pretty safe place to start.

She really is, Ginny answers. So you've been back for over a week now. Be honest, how has it really been?

He thinks about the staring and the questions and Kingsley and Teddy and Kreacher and all of it really. It's a lot.

I can only imagine.

She doesn't ask him to spell it all out, and it's a relief, mostly because she probably already has a pretty good idea. I'm still glad I came. I just think I'd forgotten, being a nobody in Australia for so long.

Her response is immediate. You weren't a nobody. You were still you.

Whoever that is. Not the boy he was before he'd ever even heard of The Boy Who Lived certainly, but he's never been anything else since. Not really.

It's a bit weird too, he admits, not having Ron and Hermione here.

I still can't believe you came back without them .

He lets out a huff. Everyone keeps saying that. Am I really that codependent?

No. It just doesn't make sense. Unless you've finally worked something out with Robards.

I haven't.

Well, of course you'd say that if it were some top-secret position.

He laughs, because he doesn't need to see her face to know she's teasing him. I don't have a secret job.

So no best mates and no job to keep you occupied. You must be going barmy.

Nah, he writes. There's plenty here to keep me occupied.

It's only after he writes it that he realizes what that sounds like, his heart thundering away in his chest.

Is there? she asks.

Harry scrambles, letting his hand get ahead of his brain yet again. Sure. Teddy and all.

Right, of course.

And you, he wants to write. And you too. You most of all.

Only him being in Australia has always only been half of the problem.

So tell me how Quidditch is going, he writes instead.

The high spirits of the nearing end of term has infected even Potions class. Slughorn is struggling to keep them all focused, especially considering they are working on a rather volatile potion to judge from the smoke billowing out of Susan's cauldron.

Ginny is sharing a station with Tobias, Hannah, and Ernie, which isn't nearly as awkward as it sounds. She worried for a while that going out with Ernie only meant that she now has two boys in the castle to avoid, but whatever awkwardness was between Ginny and Ernie has long since dissipated. She supposes part of that is just Ernie's easy-going personality, but the fact that they mutually agreed they have no interest in dating probably also helps. Ernie once leaned in and commented, "Can you imagine if one of us felt different?" He looked pained by the very idea.

It does make her wonder if maybe Michael is acting the way he is because he was hurt by the breakup more than she realized. Maybe that's why he keeps coming back to talk to her, to get her to change her mind. She's tried to make it really clear that they are never getting back together, but he seems intent on proving differently, and she just isn't sure what she's done wrong, really.

In her most frustrated moments, she's uncharitable enough to wonder if his continued attention is more about him trying to get her back just so he can be the one to break up with her .

That's too petty and stupid to possibly be true though, so she keeps trying to hold her temper, even as Ernie's behavior seems to throw Michael's faults into high relief. She also can't help but think that Harry, for all he wanted more from her than she was willing to give, has never made her feel like this, like she owed him or something. He never once tried to push her or persuade her differently, or made her feel like she's done something horribly wrong to him. Not even last summer when there still seemed to be a glimmer of hope, when everything was still fresh.

Then again, if a comparison to Ernie throws Michael in rather bad light, a comparison with Harry isn't even in the realm of fair.

"Are we out of gurdy root?" Hannah asks, reaching out and checking their ingredients.

"I'll get some more," Ernie says, pushing back his stool.

Ginny looks at her own stores. "Yeah, us too," she says, turning to Tobias. "Go."

"Me?" he says. "Why should I get it?"

Ginny just rolls her eyes, and he makes a big show of annoyance, but goes anyway.

She would have been perfectly content to get the gurdy root herself, but she knows far too well that she would have paid for it with petulant sulking for the rest of the session.

"It must be really hard to be him, torn always between his inherent quality of being a lazy arse, and his new insistence on never letting anyone do anything for him."

"Ginny," Hannah chides lightly.

"Yes, yes, I know." They're all compensating for something these days, any way they can. "Which is why I will not even mock him for it. You know, to his face."

Hannah shakes her head, turning back to her cauldron.

Ginny gnaws on her lip, glancing back at Ernie and Tobias, currently stuck in the scrum in front of the supply closet.

"Hannah?"

"Yeah?" she asks, hand steady as she carefully stirs the potion.

Ginny eyes her own cauldron, content that it isn't in immediate danger of exploding. "I've been meaning to ask you. Have I been…different lately?"

"You mean happy?" Hannah says immediately, as if she doesn't even need to give it any thought.

"What? No. I just meant…I haven't felt absent or anything, have I?"

Ever since they updated the charms on the parchments, Ginny and Harry have talked every night for at least a few minutes, one time for more than an hour. She finds herself looking forward to it.

A lot.

It feels just vaguely familiar enough that she can't help but wonder.

Hannah gives her a speculative look. "No, Ginny. You haven't felt absent."

She nods, relieved to hear it, even logically knowing she has been just as dedicated to Quidditch practices and DA meetings and handling her responsibilities in The Parlor. It seems important to be absolutely certain though. To make sure she hasn't fallen prey to another blind spot. To know that this isn't just some coping mechanism, but something more.

Maybe something a lot more.

Studiously ignoring the way her heart seems to be pounding just a little harder than normal, Ginny pulls her mortar and pestle closer. "Do I?" she asks. "Seem happy?"

The boys bustle back with their ingredients, so Hannah's only response is to smile and reach out and squeeze Ginny's fingers.

Thursday night, the Slytherin common room is loud with the end of term. Everyone is wandering back after stuffing themselves at the feast, sharing their holiday plans. Tomorrow they will all get on the Hogwarts Express and head home for Easter break.

That evening, Ginny spends some time in The Parlor with her sisters, having their own little farewell. Not all of them are looking forward to going home.

Flora and Hestia seem particularly subdued. Going home is never comfortable for them, back to a fractured family left bitter over a lost war and family name vilified. Ginny wonders which their family finds most unforgivable-that Flora and Hestia chose to resist Voldemort or that they ended up on the 'winning' side.

They don't just have to deal with their family's animosity either. Since the end of the war, Alecto and Amycus are easy villains for the public to revile. Simple. At least to anyone from the outside, to anyone who never had to experience it.

It's the legacy Flora and Hestia get to live with.

Ginny can't fix any of that, so instead she tries to remind them of what they have to come back to, that it won't be forever.

By the time she's able to check her parchment later that night, there are two messages waiting from Harry.

Ginny? You there?

After her protracted silence, he apparently wrote one more time.

Right. I forgot. It's end of term night. Probably at the feast or scrambling to pack. Hope you have a good night!

It's early enough that he's probably still up. She could write something and they could chat. Only tonight she feels the need to be more strategic, changing it back to the letter format so she has a little space to plan and edit.

She doesn't get past Dear Harry.

Another fifteen minutes pass, and she still has no more words to show for it. Which is utterly ridiculous. They've been writing to each other all week. Why this should be any different…

She stares at the blank space, gnawing at the end of her quill.

"Back to this again, are we?" Tobias asks, plopping down next to her and very nearly upsetting her ink bottle.

Reaching out to right it, she sighs, not bothering to deny it.

Tobias pulls out a worn paperback, burying his face in it, and Ginny turns back to her letter.

She thinks it's funny how often moving on actually looks a lot more like going back to the beginning.

She knows what she wants. That much is clear at least. Probably has been since the first moment Harry walked into The Three Broomsticks. And if not then, the last two weeks have solidified it for her. The only question is what Harry wants. If she even has the right to ask.

A simple enough question, really. One she's put off asking long enough.

She looks down at the parchment, dipping her quill in the ink.

Just ask the question.

She sits there, rapidly drying quill in hand, because the thing about Harry is that one can rarely predict what he's going to do in any given situation. There's just too many damn variables, and the first word won't come.

It would be easier, she thinks, if he were actually here in front of her. Always has been. Like his bravery is contagious or something.

Setting her quill aside, she takes out her wand, siphoning up the Dear Harry.

"Giving up?" Tobias asks.

She shakes her head. "Just considering a change in tactics."

He gives her a speculative look. "I'd press for details, but honestly I just don't care."

She kicks him in the leg, completely forgetting about the metal prosthesis. "Fuck," she says, rubbing at her poor abused toes.

He snorts. "That's what you get."

Ginny has not been so wrapped up in her own dilemma that she hasn't noticed that his petulance has been ratcheting up all week. A sure sign that something is going on with him. He's become unusually good at hiding things from her after last year though, and she's still learning to dig through that.

She eyes him. "Excited about the holidays?"

"Thrilled," he says, voice dry.

"Tobias."

He doesn't look up from his book, tucking his chin into his neck. "It'll be good to see Mags."

As far as she can tell, he's currently in the middle of a cold war of sorts with his parents over his career options that is pleasing neither side. "It's only for a week," she reminds him. "And you can escape to the Burrow any time you like."

"I'll take a week with my parents, thanks," he says, as if he doesn't love being at the Burrow. Just not as much as he loves being contrary and making people as miserable as he is apparently.

"Well," Ginny says, not particularly put out by his attitude. One has to be rather immune to this sort of thing if one is going to be best mates with him, after all. "I'm sure Hannah would be happy to have you over to her place."

Tobias' head lifts with a jerk and Merlin, if glares could kill, Ginny would be a goner. "I can't wait to get back to not being around you."

"Stop trying to pretend you won't miss me," she says.

He slumps down on the sofa, book lifted to his face. "Go away and we can test your theory."

Ginny shakes her head in exasperation, gathering up her things. "Goodnight, arsehole," she says, pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

"Night, Gin," he grumbles, his fingers catching hers and squeezing.

Returning to her room, she carefully packs the parchment away in her trunk and climbs into bed.

She lies awake for a long time.