Chapter Eight: A World Without Them
The next couple of days passed with a certain type of tension that Harry wasn't entirely used to. Family's cared about each other, he'd been told, which he learning meant a lot of arguing and pointed silences. Andromeda didn't raise her concerns when Teddy was around, but when she'd put him to bed there was a whole boatload of worry and misplaced anger. He'd seen it plenty of times with Mrs Weasley, but until he moved to Seattle he'd never experienced it first-hand.
Why wouldn't there be? Everyone had left her. Tonks. Ted. He was just another person to add to the list of disappointments. When he looked into her face, he felt the pull of home, as though someone had skewered him with a harpoon and was attempting to drag him back there. Yet the words never formed, even when Andromeda brushed him off and told him to go home the evening before she was due to fly back with Teddy.
He didn't, of course. After a meandering walk, he found himself seated at a small table by the window in Harvey's. The bar-cum-restaurant was as busy as ever and while most people were turned away, Harvey made sure to find Harry a seat and claimed that small business owners had to stick together, with a small wink and a smile
In an unsurprising turn of events, it was raining as Harry looked out over onto the harbour, watching the various boats bob in the water, some of them fishing, other ferries taking cars and lorries out into the world. It felt calming somehow, to imagine their days, filled with stress and anxiety, happiness and sorrow. Whatever he was feeling, however, lost or scared, it was amplified on those ferries a hundred-fold by everyone else. Everyone had something to worry about, he reasoned, and for the briefest moment, his problems didn't seem anywhere near as large.
His musing was interrupted by the scraping of a chair.
"Whoa, whoa, easy," Lizzie said, her hands out in front of her. It was only when he took in how she was standing, the shocked looks from the guests around them, that he realised his hand had involuntarily shot to his inside pocket. Luckily his wand wasn't there or that would've taken even more explaining.
"Sorry." He tried to smile but realised that would be worse, so settled for an apologetic grimace.
"What you get for jumping an ex-cop, right? It's my fault. I just saw you and I wanted to say hey, do you mind? 'Cause I can -"
"No, it's fine. Please."
She smiled, the first he'd seen from anyone above the age of a small child, before removing her trusty leather jacket, revealing a mustard-yellow shirt that matched her hair tie perfectly and was tucked into skinny black jeans. With a practised motion, she managed to attract Harvey's attention and get a drink sent over to the table. Whoever said muggles didn't have magic was a liar, she might as well have summoned it.
"Thought you'd be with Andromeda."
"She's packing." He hoped the lie would land.
"Uh-huh." It didn't.
"Okay, we had a fight."
"Lemme guess, she wants you to go back on the next flight?"
"I think I could get away with the one after that," Harry said sarcastically, earning himself a small chuckle, the kind that actually came from her chest and wasn't forced out because of pity or pandering. "She reckons it's a mistake. This whole thing."
"Depends how you look at it," Lizzie said, sipping at the drink that had appeared while she'd been laughing. "I mean for her, probably. She thought you'd be around forever, there for her, for that cute little godson of yours. You're her family, she wants you there." Harry hummed, unable to argue with what she'd said. "But on the other hand, you have a rock-ass shop, a great co-worker, I hear she's amazing, and people love it. Honestly, I've worked in tons of shops and people come and people go, but you've got loads who're always coming back. That takes a lot.
"So, to them, it's not a mistake. The only person that matters is you. Whether you think it's not right for you. And I know we've only known each other a few months but, for what it's worth, I'd say you're getting there."
"Getting there?"
"You know, almost happy. Like whatever's chasing you isn't winning most days."
"Yeah." It was true, most days he didn't even think about the war and he couldn't remember the last time he'd woken up screaming. It might've just been a few months, but somehow the stack of good days was starting to outweigh the bad. "What would you do?"
"My family's not the same. They drive me nuts for one thing and they're always here. I don't know, could I be away from them? I guess. Alice moved out ages ago and they don't hate her. Way they go on you'd think she was the one that stuck around, but, I don't know. Sorry. But I can tell you I want you to stay."
"You have to say that."
"Yeah, but that's not why I'm saying it." She reached out and gave his hand a small squeeze, followed up by the kind smile he'd got to know over the last few weeks and months. It was the kind that made the rest of her face seem that little bit warmer and a different type of strain in his chest, not guilt, something else. "Whatever you decide it'll be the right thing, so how about we get super drunk, chat shit and eat way too much?"
"You've got work tomorrow."
"My boss is really chill, he won't even notice."
Harry grinned and for the first time since Andromeda had arrived he felt himself, finally, begin to relax.
The result of a good night, however, was that on Andromeda's final day in America, Harry awoke with a splitting headache, no memory of how he'd got home and the irritating realisation that he was still wearing the same clothes as the night before. He fumbled around for his glasses, glad that past-Harry had had the good sense to take them off of his face before falling face-first into his pillow. Oscar, curled up happily at the end of the bed, meowed his indignation at being disturbed before leaping to the floor and wandering off.
It turned out that the fate of his glasses had nothing to do with him. A bright green sticky note, from the stack he'd used to label his boxes and general stock in the shop, was plastered to his bedside table. Once his vision was restored and his headache stopped trying to cleave his skull in half, Harry snatched up the small note.
Thought you wouldn't want to break them. Thank me later.
There was that warmth again.
Shaking his head and hoping he hadn't embarrassed himself too much, Harry dragged himself from bed and set about his normal morning routine - only a lot slower and with more swearing and painkillers. That was the one thing he missed from the Magical world. Potions. Something he'd never thought he'd say never mind think, but they were a thousand times better at numbing pain than muggle drugs.
The mirror revealed just how terrible he looked, but after throwing on a shirt and v-neck jumper, dark blue jeans and stepping into boots that were far comfier than they had any right to be, he hoped Andromeda would be less likely to know just how drunk he'd been. God, he couldn't remember the last time he'd done that with someone. Ron was always busy with the shop and Hermione was, well, Hermione. Ginny had practice most days and couldn't afford to go flying thousands of feet in the air with a sensitive stomach, understandably. Sure, he'd drowned his sorrows alone, but when was the last time he'd stayed out like that with anyone? Seventh year? No. It'd been Ginny's first trial with the Harpies. They'd celebrated at The Burrow, and Fred had made a bunch of cocktails.
Not for the first time, a pang of guilt twisted in his heart. They were memories he'd never really get a chance to have again if he stayed, not with them. Sure, he could take a portkey over for family events, but then, when did they ever do that? The fact he'd had to stop and think when the last time was had to be a sign, didn't it?
He continued to back and forth with himself as he walked to the hotel, which catered for muggle and magical guests thanks to the seventh floor, obviously, being off-limits to muggle guests and magically expanded so that they could have endless amounts of witches and wizards to stay. More than once he'd heard his Uncle Vernon complaining about hotel breakfasts with more guests than the hotel seemed to have capacity the for, he sometimes wondered if he'd been dining with magical people and had no idea.
The air was cool but not bracing, so instead of hovering in the hotel bar, Harry found a bench opposite reception. There was something oddly soothing about the sound of Muggle Seattle, cars chugging along, horns blaring occasionally, and people chatting as they walked, it was so teeming with life.
Life.
The very thing he'd always clung to, no matter how many people had tried to free him from it. Voldemort, Death Eaters, convicts and Dark Wizards. Dragons. Basilisks. He was fairly certain a Blast-Ended Skrewt had tried to knock him off more than once. Yet here he was still breathing.
"Uncle Harry!"
Harry tore himself out of his reverie just in time to catch Teddy Lupin, his hair still jet-black and his smile bigger than Harry had ever seen it, or maybe that was just his imagination. Harry snatched up the small boy and began spinning him around, peals of laughter rang in his ears, an odd contrast to the dour expression on his grandmother's face.
"What do you want to do today?" Harry asked Teddy as he set him down. "It's your last day, anything you want, it's yours."
"Anything?"
Harry's gaze shifted to Andromeda again, if only for a second. The witch nodded. "Anything."
Little did Harry know that anything would mean a trip to America's version of Diagon Alley, or rather, one of them. He should've expected it, a few days without magic probably had Teddy crawling the walls, but it did nothing to prepare him for it. Apparating was hard at the best of times, never mind with an excited child and a predilection to puke, so when they slammed into the busy New York street it took everything he had to keep his mouth clamped shut.
"Long night?" Andromeda commented, a small twisting smirk pulling at the edge of her straight-lipped facade.
"I think so," Harry said, trying to share the moment. A second later it was gone because Teddy had excitedly sprinted towards the alleyway.
The thing about American magical alleys, Harry had learned, that was different to Diagon Alley is that they weren't hidden behind pubs and a few bricks. Instead, anyone with magic could find them, tucked away between buildings. They were little passageways, barely wide enough to fit a bicycle, and if a muggle tried to look at it their eyes would simply gloss over it. For all intents and purposes, it wasn't there.
They hurried after the small boy, disappearing from the muggle world and reappearing in an onslaught of magical activities. Huge skyscrapers stretched above them, shops built into various windows and steps popped out of thin air so that customers could climb up to the higher shops and discover the magical oddities that were for sale. There was no clear sky above them, instea,d a warm orange light emanated from the tops of the buildings and gave the alleyway a cosy soothing aura.
On the ground, larger shopfronts, geared towards the more generic customer needs, plied their trade. A potioneer's with a teetering stack of cauldrons, a joke shop similar to the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes displayed the latest in magical japes and tricks, a book shop that made Adhara Books look like a market stall towered above them to his right. In pride of place further down the alleyway, although a better description was a gigantic shopping street, was a gigantic Quidditch shop, decorated with three hoops larger than the ones that had actually stood at Hogwarts. People whizzed through them, throwing a Quaffle between them and showing off the latest brooms and gear they were selling.
And that was without even looking at the people or rather, the people and the creatures. Centaurs were haggling in front of the potion shop, while a small group of fairies were pitching a set of expensive robes to a young nervous looking man, and a vampire hovered a few feet off the ground and read a cookery book. Kids were laughing and chasing firework animals, while their parents chatted. Everything was so magical and instead of inspiring him, all it made Harry feel was empty.
This was the world he should've died saving, instead everyone else had died for him and all it was was a reminder.
Teddy dragged them around what felt like a thousand shops, Harry, feeling far too guilty, bought him whatever he asked for and the resulting magically extended shopping bag was so heavy that a shopkeeper had to charm it so that it was feather-light. Whenever Teddy looked over to Harry, he made sure not to disappoint his godson and would plaster on a huge grin, playing with whatever toy or treasure he'd discovered, but when he would trawl the shelves the smile would fade and his thoughts would wander down darker paths.
"Uncle Harry wants ice cream," Andromeda announced unexpectedly as they sat at a small round-table outside a busy restaurant. Just inside was an ice cream seller, his stall practically heaving with all types and flavours of the frozen dessert.
"I do?" The look would've skewered lesser men. "I mean yes, I do."
"Strawberry and chocolate?" It was Teddy's favourite, but Harry had long since adopted it, partially to bond with his godson but also because it was incredible.
"You know it."
Andromeda imparted her order on her grandson and watched carefully as he joined the small queue of people waiting to get their own frozen treat.
"I don't want ice cream," Harry said when Teddy couldn't hear him.
"I know that," Andromeda almost snapped, so close that most people couldn't tell the difference. Harry could, there was no glower. She sighed, her dark eyes dropped to the table, examining the intricate artwork on the wooden top. "I hoped you'd like it here."
He didn't have to ask what here she was referring to, he knew it wasn't Seattle.
"Me too."
"I was wrong."
"When you said I was being 'an idiotic child' or that my shop 'was a gigantic waste of time' and I was 'running from everything'?" There was more and it had all stung. The result was that she was scared he was just burying his hand in the sand and maybe he was, but it was nicer sand.
"I'm trying to apologise." Andromeda never liked being wrong, nor did she admit it gracefully.
"Sorry." Her expression indicated he would be if he carried on trying to look for a fight. "Carry on."
"You're happier."
"That's not exactly hard."
"No," Andromeda agreed, her eyes back on Teddy. "I suppose it wasn't."
"I never hated being there for Teddy. Not once. And if you need me -"
"Need is such a strong word," Andromeda interjected. "Do I want you home? Yes. Do I need you? Perhaps, at the start, I did. When Teddy was screaming the house down and I was a mother again, then, yes, I needed you. I needed a break, someone to share this journey with, someone to lean on when everything was a bit too much. I couldn't have asked for better, Harry, but you never once put yourself first. I can't complain now you're finally doing that."
"Even though you hate it?"
"Even though I hate it," Andromeda agreed fondly. "Besides, you're only a portkey away. We can visit. The others too."
The idea made his heart race a thousand miles a minute. "You think they'd want to come?"
"They're your family. They love you as much as they worry about you."
"But I -"
"Left without a word? Broke up with Ginny and left her distraught and alone?"
"Well, yeah."
"You left people who only want the best for you. To them, to us, that was staying where we could help you. It's never nice knowing you're the problem." He opened his mouth to argue that they weren't a problem but Andromeda held up her hand. "And as for Ginny, she's alright. She started seeing that boy. What's his name? Lee?"
Harry blinked. "Lee Jordan?"
"He's a commentator, quite respected apparently. As if talking about people trying to kill themselves for fun is respectable. They live in the same world."
"And I don't."
"No. You don't."
They watched Teddy lean up and begin telling the woman at the stall their order. She smiled and nodded and gave him the all-American customer service Harry was getting used to. And instead of thinking about Teddy, about the times they'd spent at Andromeda's, his eyes never left the woman serving him because he wasn't longing for a life in the UK, he just wanted to be back in his bookshop and tease Lizzie for that exact style of customer service.
oOo
"Wait, wait, you're saying you dropped him off here and didn't stay the night?"
"He could barely stand," Lizzie objected, rolling her eyes. The shop was pretty quiet, all except for Jackson, the large man who barely said a word, who was happily stroking Harry's cat and reading his latest purchase - a Stephen King novel Lizzie hadn't gotten around to checking out but that sounded as creepy as usual. "And besides, I'm not interested."
"Not interested or not interested in the drama?"
"Shut up."
"Ah, c'mon, you like him."
"I like hanging out with him."
"That's the most important thing," Sarah, freed from her shift at the museum early thanks to Harry's connections to the place, said with a dopey grin. As ever, she looked perfectly put together and the coffee stain on her apron somehow appeared deliberately placed. It would've been annoying if she wasn't so damn likeable. "When's the last time you went out with a guy and got wasted?"
I get drunk all the time didn't sound like an appropriately funny retort and more like an indication of accidental alcoholism, so instead Lizzie shot back with, "doesn't matter. He could be leaving anyway."
"What?"
"Yu-huh," Lizzie scowled, leaning against the counter. All this, gone. She'd first walked into the shop and seen nothing but slightly empty shelves and a man with no clue what he was doing. But as she looked out into the room, she couldn't help but feel saddened by the idea of it having never existed. There were so many worlds to escape to within its walls, sure, but the world it created was one she was quite content to live in. "Back to jolly England or whatever."
"But he loves it here."
"He loved running here," Lizzie corrected, "maybe he's done running."
"Or maybe he found something to stay still for?"
"If you're being a romantic I swear to god -"
"The shop, the city, the friends he made along the way."
"God, you're disgusting, you know that?"
Sarah, undeterred, joined her friend at the counter, freshly cleaned mug in hand. "You love me."
"Any chance I can take that back?"
"If you want to carry on sharing the rent, no."
"You're extorting our home for my love?"
"Yup." There was that devilish grin again. "You know, I've missed this. Us working together again. It's been nice."
"It has." It'd been years, they'd both been in college and desperate for a few bucks. An old bar run by a dude with a beard so thick children could get lost in it. "You know, I could get you a job. I could be your manager."
"Do you preserve priceless historical artwork?"
"The tree's pretty cool," Lizzie said, pointing at the decorated wall.
"That's going to be a no."
They were interrupted by the familiar ringing of the bell and in stepped Harry, no Andromeda or adorable godson in toe, just Harry. He moved into the shop, stopped to say 'hi' to Jackson and scratch Oscar's head, and all with the gentle kindness he did everything with. Some people moved like a hurricane, all noise and destructive whirlwinds, Harry reminded her of a stream. Constantly moving but never hurrying, calming yet constant.
"Hey, you're back."
"I am," Harry nodded, "how's things? Everything okay?"
"Nothing burned down."
He smirked. "A good start."
"Sold a few P.S's again, oh, we're gonna need to get Cloud Atlas again because that's gone, we had to turn away old Mrs. Torres, she was not happy, I've got some refills coming tomorrow and Sar thinks your tree sucks."
It was worth the sudden spike of pain in her shoulder. "I don't!"
Harry ignored their antics. "Good day then?"
"Good day. You?"
"Yeah, up and down." There was more to it, why wouldn't there be? Sarah had the good sense to wait a few minutes before loudly declaring that she should head back to Mike, apparently he was cooking, and thank Harry for the shifts. He, in turn, thanked her for covering him, it was all very friendly and nice and a few months ago Lizzie would've hated it.
"So, go on, what happened?"
"Who says something happened?"
"You look like I shot Oscar." Harry sighed, the shop had emptied, Jackson having left along with Sarah. They were early but he moved to the door and flipped over the sign that told customers they were open for business. He didn't move for a moment, staring out of the glass window onto the street.
"They've gone home," he began. "Andi, she's… She's okay with it all, I think. She still hates it and probably thinks I'm being stupid, but she thinks I need to do it, do this. For me. And they're okay. Everyone's okay."
"Is that a bad thing?"
"No, no, of course, it's just… I didn't think she'd move on so fast."
"She?"
"I was seeing someone," Harry explained, turning to face her and pressing his back against the closed door so that in the half-light it looked as if they were two of him, one facing her, the other still looking at the city. "Ginny. She was, is, amazing. She's, erm, a, er, footballer."
Lizzie had to stop herself from laughing at his hesitation. "Soccer."
"Sure," Harry shrugged. "Point is, we were together a long time and things were either going to have to… you know." Lizzie nodded. "I wanted it to work. But I was always working, so was she, and I think we just drifted. Things happened, a long time ago, things we couldn't get over. Her brother died, died saving people, saving me and every time I looked at her I just saw him. Saw all the pain I've caused them, caused all of them.
"So, I ran away. I tried to find something I'd loved as a kid, even if only slightly, and I dove into it. Into this. And she's happy now, I think. I hope. He's a good guy, I know he is. Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you this."
"It's okay."
"It's not, but thank you."
"I get it, it's hard. You wanted it to work. It didn't. This is just another reminder, right?"
Lizzie knew enough how that felt. She'd had her own fair share of crappy exes, guys who thought they ruled the world or lied or cheated or used her as the other woman in their lives, crap guys who didn't give two shits about her. Guys who walked away and moved on and didn't give a damn how she was.
"I think it's sweet. That you care."
"'Course I do."
"Plenty wouldn't. Trust me. Do you wanna go back?"
"No." There wasn't even a hesitation. "She's happy. That's all I wanted. And now… now I guess I get to be happy too."
"I'll drink to that." He winced. "What? Seriously? C'mon, it was one night."
"You nearly killed me."
"I wasn't even trying."
"You have problems."
"More than you can imagine," Lizzie laughed. Then a realisation and a disturbing thought struck her. "A movie then? Mike's cooking, which means way too much sex and I've got thin walls soooo… Please?"
"Please?" Harry repeated, pushing off from the door and moving into the shop, a smirk on his kind face.
"It. Is. Awful."
"Film sounds good."
"Movie."
"Film."
"English people are weird."
"Like you couldn't imagine," Harry echoed back at her before she turned off the lights and together they shut the door behind them, Harry locking the door, and headed out into the cold Seattle night.
