Chapter Nine: Those He Left Behind

"You left him there?"

"Ron!"

"What, I thought we were getting him back, not leaving him in bloody America!"

The assorted friends and, for want of a better word, family of Harry Potter were silent as Ron Weasley ran a hand through his hair and continued pacing around the table. The night was calm and cool, a contrast to the people sitting around the small wooden table. Upstairs, various infants of different years slept or listened to stories told by a very tired Arthur Weasley, who had volunteered to help with the grandchildren that evening. That left Hermione, Ron, Molly Weasley, an absurdly silent Ginny, George, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, who Andromeda was convinced was barely paying any attention, and Andromeda herself. The bearer of bad news.

"Can't blame the bloke, if anyone's had enough, it's him," George tried gingerly. "At least he's sending letters now."

"And we can visit," Hermione said, for what was probably the fourth time that evening. Andromeda had to resist rolling her eyes. That was so far beyond the point that she may as well be talking to the gnomes in the garden for the good it would do. As the only one who'd actually seen him out there, who'd spoken to him, who'd had a chance to see the beginnings of something other than a mask on his face, it had been her job to tell them that their ploy had failed. He wasn't coming home because if Teddy couldn't drag him back, nothing could.

"We shouldn't have to," Ron ground out furiously. "He should be here, with us. That's what was meant to -" His voice cracked. "I can't believe he'd do this."

"Well he did," Hermione snapped, clearly sick of repeating the same conversation over and over again.

"And it wasn't just you he left, Ron." They were the first words Ginny had said since the small collection of witches and wizards had gathered in the Burrow. "It was all of us."

"He didn't leave us," the Longbottom boy ventured a little nervously. So different to Frank and Alice, but that was to be expected. "Not really."

Ron scoffed. "No offence Neville, but you don't know what you're -"

"Leave Neville alone," Ginny scowled.

"Oh, gonna jump his bones now, too?"

"Ronald Weasley! Don't ever talk to your sister like that! Apologise. Now!" Mrs Weasley screamed at him.

"It's alright, mum." The Ginny Andromeda had heard so much about would've jinxed him there and then, but instead, the youngest Weasley didn't even so much as move. "We're moving on, Ron."

"Moving on?" Ron echoed numbly. "He's moved, not dead. Why am I the only one that thinks this is insane?"

"You're not," Ginny answered simply. "But it's his choice."

"He doesn't even like books."

"He hated textbooks, schoolbooks, Ron," Hermione corrected.

"Same thing."

"To you maybe," Neville shot back, clearly still hurt by Ron's dismissal of him.

"It's a point, we didn't even know you could read," George teased. Even years later, the small beat that followed as the room expected Fred to add a comment was felt as fiercely as if a hurricane had torn down the walls.

"Shut up."

"He wasn't running from us, Neville's right, it isn't us, it's what we are that's the issue." Andromeda said, speaking from the armchair that she'd summoned, her fingers wrapped around her mug of tea, the only warmth in the room.

"And what precisely is that?" Molly asked hotly. She'd never liked Andromeda, the feeling was honestly mutual but at least Andromeda had the courtesy to dislike her for genuine reasons. Molly simply hated the role Andromeda had come to play in Harry's life. The Weasley Matriarch had always considered herself Harry's mother, but since the war things had changed as they always did.

"A reminder. We've all lost people because of Voldemort," Andromeda began, not looking at any of them. Instead she focused on the mug in her hands, the echo of her daughter's laugh in her ears and the feel of her husband's hands in hers. "But Harry is Harry and he can't make that distinction. You've all known him longer than I have -"

"Yes, we have," Molly bit back.

"So I find it bizarre that you're selfish enough -"

"Selfish?" Ron repeated loudly.

"How dare you!" Molly shrieked.

"- to imagine that Harry, of all people, would make this choice if there was anything else he could do."

The room stared at her, Molly looked as though she wanted to explode. Ron, his ears scarlet, was glaring at her so intensely that Andromeda was fairly certain if he'd the temperament she'd be blasted halfway across the room.

"He is the best of us." Her voice was quiet, because if she said it any louder she feared it may break her heart. "And we broke him. We leaned on him, we asked him to help us, we never gave him the space he needed and threw our grief and our loss on him and because he's Harry, he took it. He even said he'd come back, if I needed him to."

"What?" Molly and Ron yelled together.

"And you said no?! Ron, Ron! Go there, get him back, get him back now!"

"Molly." The bark didn't come from in front of her but the staircase behind them. Andromeda didn't need to turn around to know that it was Arthur. "Please. Let her finish."

"Arthur you can't -"

"Molly. That's enough. We're all angry, we're all hurt, and we all love Harry. Please." No one argued, even though Molly clearly wanted to as she huffily sat back down in her chair, glaring daggers at Andromeda.

"Thank you, Arthur. And yes, Molly, he said he'd come back, even though it'd kill him. He'd have done that for Teddy, for me, for any of us."

"Then why didn't you get him back?"

Andromeda remembered the bookshop, remembered loathing everything about it, including that over-friendly American. Of course, he'd leapt to her aid, it was Harry, and perhaps she hadn't deserved it. But he seemed genuinely upset, as if he actually cared. It had hit her then, even if she'd tried to deny it for the following few days, that woman, that shop, they were his home now.

"He's happy," Andromeda said finally. "That should be enough. You can hate it, you can wish it hadn't happened, but don't blame him. He's doing enough of that himself already." "

Every eye was on her as she sipped her tea, all except Luna, who was looking airly at the ceiling.

"I'd want some distance, if it were me. And, besides, his letter didn't even have any Nargles on it," she said, silvery eyes examining the timber. "That's how you know."

Even Hermione groaned, Mr Weasley threw up her hands in disgust, her eyes on her husband - as if Arthur would do anything - only Ginny and Neville looked at the girl with any kindness.

"Know what?" Neville asked.

"That he's thinking clearly, they can cloud your judgement."

"And steal trainers," Ron muttered, earning himself a reproachful look from Ginny.

"Harry's doing what's right for him," Luna continued, unphased, her dreamy voice somehow the only one of reason. "And he's not alone."

"But she's a Muggle," Ron objected. "She doesn't get it. We do."

"Haven't you been listening?" Ginny asked, exasperatedly. "That's the point. She doesn't need to know who he was, just who he is right now."

"I thought you'd hate it."

"That my ex-boyfriend spends every day with a Muggle and not me? Why thank you, Ron, I hadn't noticed."

"That's not what I -"

"It is," Ginny said, cutting across her brother. "But I'm trying to be happy. We're all trying, so why can't you?"

Not long after that, she left to be with Lee, George following close behind. Neville made his excuses, accompanied by Luna, while Molly muttered something about checking on the children. Ron barely said another word, disappearing off into the garden Hermione hot on his trail. Only Arthur remained.

"Do you truly believe he's happy?"

"I wouldn't have left him there if I didn't," Andromeda confessed. She pressed a hand against his shoulder, sharing in the moment all parents feel for the boy who wasn't theirs. The kind of uselessness and worry that ate away so deep inside that it would never leave, only growing hungrier. "And the American's not dreadful."

The corner of his mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. Everyone always worried about Molly, for she was always the one who exploded, but rarely did their eyes wander to Arthur. Perhaps, Andromeda thought, they should.

"He'll be safe."

"That's all that matters," Arthur nodded. "Thank you. For trying."

"To bring him back or keep him there?"

"Both."

When she was finally home, after a few more minutes consoling Arthur, Andromeda collapsed into the chair by the fire and unfolded the letter Harry had sent them. It had arrived in the claws of a bedraggled eagle owl, who'd stuck a leg out for payment before flying off again, but despite being delivered to her this first letter was for all of them. She unfolded the Adhara Books branded piece of paper from the pocket of her robes and in the comfort of her home, the arguments of the Weasley family and Harry's friends nothing but a distant memory, she read his words again.

Hi,

I'm sure you already know, thanks Andi, but I'm okay and I'm safe. I'm sorry it's taken so long to send this letter, I can't tell you how many times I've tried to think of the right thing to say - or I guess write - to you all. I should probably start with sorry and I am. You were all always there for me and I'm sorry I need to do this, but I do.

I've set up a shop, can imagine that? Me in a shop. It's so weird, but it's great. It's going well so far, I think, and I'm sure Andi can tell you all about it (Andi, please don't be harsh). I've got help, don't worry, I'm not going to accidentally burn it all to the ground.

I know I didn't tell you all where I was going and I wanted to, really. But I knew you'd be able to stop me, you'd talk me out of it or make me wonder if I was doing the right thing. The truth is, I'm still wondering if it was. I miss you. All of you. And I hope one day you can forgive me.

I've included a leaflet (they call it a flyer here), so feel free to stop by. I hope you like it and the coffee's on me.

If you want to write back or just write to tell me I'm an idiot, please send an owl to Houria, 7th Avenue, Seattle. He's a friend that can actually accept owls, I think they'd probably scare people off.

I hope you're all okay, please, if you ever need anything, anything, I'm just a portkey away.

Love,

Harry

She wasn't sure how many times she read it, how much she imagined him agonising over every word and wishing he could tell that Muggle of his about it. Harry had never been one for words and Andromeda knew for a fact that Ginny had helped him write all of Teddy's birthday cards.

Usually, when she thought of Teddy and his godfather it normally came with a pang of frustration or guilt or anger, whatever vicious emotion took her fancy at that particular moment. Yet, having seen the young boy clinging to his godfather's hand, watched them walk up that stupid mountain and admire the views from atop the needle thing, Andromeda knew it wasn't Teddy who held a grudge against him. It was her. She'd hoped taking him back to the Magical World would convince him to come home, but all it had really done was force him further into Muggle America. He had been lost, left in the ruins of his parents' legacy and his friends' sacrifice, at least over there he could build something new, something that might, just, be better.

AN: A little different to most chapters, but don't worry we'll be back in Seattle soon! I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, faved and followed this story so far. I've been enjoying a lot of cosy fantasy lately and wanted to put my own spin on it, I know this isn't for everyone but for those who have found it I really do hope you continue to enjoy it! I can't believe this story actually got recommended to someone, that's first time I know that's happened so whoever told their friend to read it you really made my day. The next chapter is a couple of weeks away, but I wanted to insert this little slice of UK life ahead of what comes next to kind of lend a bit of perspective that had been missing in my other drafts. I hope you like it and have a great week!