Harry awoke to the sound of frying and the smell of bacon wafting in from the kitchenette. Groaning he shrug off the covers and wandered into the bathroom to check the state he was in. His messy black hair was all ruffled and his lightning shaped scar remained half hidden under his long emoesk fringe. He had decided that it would be easier to use this style to hide one of his less than happy features.
Leaving the bathroom he explored the flat to find Ron busy frying, wearing a small tight apron. "What the hell are you wearing?" He exclaimed, suppressing a laugh.
"What?" Ron replied bemused. "What's wrong with protecting myself from flying bacon fat?"
Harry chuckled and went to sit down, noticing the Daily Prophet on the coffee table. "Have you been out then?"
"No it flew in from the press by itself because magic totally works that way." Ron replied sarcastically.
"Point taken." Harry looked around at the debris from the night before. Empty beer cans, bottles of wine and DVD's lay strewn across the floor. This is what happened when you invited Ginny and Hermione over for a quiet night in. No sooner than this thought had crossed his mind, there was a knock at the door.
"I wonder who that is?"
Harry got up and walked to the front door. His question was redundant; he knew exactly who he would be there. Pulling open the door, stood Hermione in fish net tights, her hair ruffled, lipstick smeared across her face and Ginny in her arms. "Fun night?"
Hermione smirked and crossed the threshold with Ginny. She lay her gently down on the couch. She then stroked her face, pushing her long red hair from her eyes. "I can't get her to wake up," Hermione rolled her eyes and nudged Ginny lightly.
"I can!" Said Ron, who swiftly moved to Hermione's side. He proceeded to slap his sister hard across the face with the spatula he had been using to turn the bacon. She sat up with a bolt, hand grabbing for her face. She looked around, slightly stunned for a second then grabbed her head in her hands.
"Rough night?" Harry repeated. He laughed, gently removing the spatula from Ron's hands before he decided to do any more beating with it. Harry lightly pushed Ron in the direction of the stove again. "Get to it Cinders', don't ruin my breakfast!"
"If I'm Cinderella, you get to be the three ugly sisters!"
"It was two ugly sisters, you utter nitwit," snapped Hermione aggressively.
"Hangover, I see!" Harry sighed as he got up. "Ladies, excuse me, I'm off for a shower. You could use one too," he smiled at Hermione, "you've got lipstick all over your collar."
She scowled and shot Ron a dirty look as he chimed in with, "Sorry I'm not muggle-born your highness." Harry escaped to the bathroom before Hermione could turn on him. A soft giggle escaped him as he heard what were obviously the contents of the cutlery drawer, chasing Ron around the kitchen. Harry could still hear his yelps of pain and protest as he closed and locked the bathroom door.
Sighing and congratulating himself on not getting too drunk the night before, he walked over to the shower and turned it on. Hot water poured from the showerhead and soon the room was filled with steam. He wiped the mirror clear and stood, staring at his forehead.
It hadn't hurt. That scar. Not since that night in the entrance hall. He closed his eyes, leaning forward just slightly so that his forehead was resting against the cool – if slightly damp - glass. Flashes of green and red danced about his mind He gripped the sink, as he feel deeper into his memory.
The lives lost.
Nagini and the sword of Gryffindor in Neville's hands, Bellatrix Lestrange battling with Mrs Weasley. Fred, George's lost ear, Tonks and Professor Lupin. Then his vision sharply spun to Teddy. The poor boy.
Harry remembered celebrating Teddy's his first birthday with the boy. He remembered the birthday cake and the presents, Andromeda in the kitchen, crying hot, angry, yet sad tears at the loss of her only child. That boy, he would never grow up with the love and guidance of his birth parents. He, too, would feel the burden like he, Harry had. The loss of his mother and father, and no one to turn to when things grew tough. No Dad to play Quidditch with. One of the sadder facts of the whole affair was that Teddy was still too young to feel that weight. He was four and only now beginning to ask questions. He didn't yet understand. Harry remembered Sirius. How he had loved him and shown him his parents, as he knew them. Harry looked up into the mirror.
"So what you did for me, is what I've to do for Teddy?" He spoke aloud, a solitary tear trickling down his left cheek. "I'll do what I have to, no matter how... how unpleasant I find it.." He paused, licking his lips slightly though he didn't actually need them dampened.
"I miss you Sirius," he said softly. He steadied himself on the sink. The time for remorse and remembrance was over. He allowed himself this moment, this time to reflect.
He slowly got undressed and climbed into the shower. The water streaming down his face and back as his hair got wet and stuck to his face. "Enough now." He whispered. "Enough." He stood and let the water wash over him.
Harry emerged from the bathroom some time later, a towel wrapped around his waist. He noticed Ron sitting on the sofa nursing some cuts and bruises as random cutlery lay scattered across the kitchen floor and work surfaces. He peeked round the doorframe to see Hermione and Ginny involved in a whispered conversation, both shooting furtive glances at Ron. For his credit, Ron was seeming going along with them, pretending to be oblivious to the glances. Harry scampered lightly into the bedroom and hastily got dressed, making the bed and opening the curtains before he wandered into the living room.
"Where is my bacon?" he demanded, attempting a rather bad impersonation of a pompous, spoiled brat. It was slightly reminiscent of Draco Malfoy. That is, only slightly.
"Ask her!" Ron snapped sourly staring pointedly at Hermione who was now busy tugging at her hair with a large paddle brush.
"What?" she scowled. She gave a small tut, "I used it to attack Ron. It's still edible, just a bit… hairy," she finished, gesturing towards the bacon, which was lying pathetically on the kitchen counter, covered in a few of Ron's red hairs.
"I could say I've eaten worse," Harry laughed, "but I'd be lying." He shot Ron a meaningful look, who just rolled his eyes and smiled a little. Ginny was looking a little worse for wear. Her usually long soft red hair was knotted and messy. Like Hermione, she too was covered in lipstick stains and wore too much make-up.
There was another knock at the door. Harry, considering that he was the only one of the four in any state of decent dress, opened it. There stood a policeman and his partner. "Harry Potter," the officer began, pausing nervously. "I'm afraid we have some bad news."