Chapter Text
Story: Losing Harry
Chapter: One
Rating: PG
Written: 21 Sept. 2008; Edited for errors/improvement 12 Feb. 2009
Notes: It’s a future fic. Thanks to Kathryn for beta-ing this. Thanks to Jeni for Brit-picking.
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
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I’ve known Harry for a very long time. It should have come as no surprise to me, but the fact that it did, at first, was the most unsettling aspect of the whole thing. By then it was too late, and as his friend…I don’t think I possibly could have known the right thing to do.
Not this time.
Everybody thought they knew Harry. He was the eleven-year-old on the Hogwarts train for the first time, wearing clothes too big for a fifth-year student, wide eyes taking in a world he’d never known. He was the Boy Who Lived; an innocent orphan. He was the student that all of the Hogwarts professors waited with bated breath for, pausing for that single, unfathomable miniscule moment during their first class, waiting to see if he would rise to the task and succeed the first time without a hitch – like Magic. The truth was that he had rarely been among the first, though never among the last – in school, anyway. Harry was the Hero of our world, having vanquished the Dark Lord. And eventually, he was the husband and father that he had always imagined that his own father would have been.
Perhaps it never occurred to anyone that he had never wanted that life for himself.
I should have known. I should have expected it. But I couldn’t have done anything. I couldn’t have helped.
Not this time.
..:..
“He’s acting just like he was in sixth year.”
“What are you talking about?” Ginny snapped at Hermione a little too sharply. As if realizing how cutting her tone had been, she swallowed and softened her features, knowing that whatever Hermione was going to say would probably be helpful.
Hermione seemed to disregard the edge on Ginny’s words, perhaps because she had grown used to the Weasley temperament over the years. She caught it from many sides – husband, brothers-in-law, sister-in-law, parents-in-law.
Ginny blinked and turned away from her sister-in-law, staring out the high windows of the Hogwarts Infirmary. She’d had no idea this morning that she would later find herself back in her old school. Hogwarts had ceased to be the large, daunting, magical structure that had once met her eyes as a tiny first year. Something had changed during the last battle – the battle that no one had even wanted her to fight in. The battle that her husband had won. Something about those moments had altered her view of Hogwarts. It had stopped looking like school in her eyes and started looking more like…a ruin. Like ancient, muted history. It didn’t shout ‘battlefield,’ as she thought it did for Harry – even if he never talked much about it. Nor did it echo of death and pain for her, as it did for Harry, though she had lost loved ones there as well.
Harry had once said that returning to Hogwarts filled him with two separate and warring senses. It was hard for him to return. On the one hand, it had been his home, and it held so many memories – memories of his first real family, his first loves, his first achievements. Hogwarts was a place where he belonged and the world made sense. It was a place he had defended, standing alongside those he loved, and the place where he had saved their magical world; fulfilled his destiny.
She thought that last word probably held a bitter taste for him, but it was yet another topic that Harry didn’t seem too keen to discuss.
He had, however, once confessed to being haunted by the shadows of Hogwarts, by what was lost on that same day. Friends, family… He saw their faces, he had said. All of them. But Ginny reminded herself that he had only talked about that once. He didn’t speak about losing Dumbledore either, or whatever had happened in the Forbidden Forest during the last battle… Going back to Hogwarts, Ginny thought, had a way of raking up the memories that had lain overgrown and forgotten in Harry’s everyday life. And apparently there will still sore wounds, buried underneath the surface.
For Ginny, however, Hogwarts was in many ways very distant. She had lost the same people that Harry had, but for some reason the losses affected her in different ways, and as a result, the memories didn’t cling to the building for her, the way they did for her husband. No, for her, Hogwarts had ceased being somewhere magical and special and instead had become just another building. Ginny had moved on, leaving that time in her life and entering a new one, one she had always dreamed of.
Returning to Hogwarts brought her no joy, nor any grief – aside from what she experienced in direct relation to the behavior, misbehavior, or accidental mishaps involving her children.
Their children.
She smiled.
“He is being weird,” Ginny admitted, turning to face Hermione and leaning against the windowsill, several steps away from where Hermione sat in a chair near the bed. Ginny’s smile fell again.
“Has he…said anything?” Hermione ventured, the look on her face shifting to one of thoughtfulness.
When Hermione and Ginny talked about Harry, the result was often a very awkward shuffle around the topic. Ginny wasn’t jealous of Hermione – at least she didn’t think so – despite the fact that Hermione and Harry had been close for the entire time that Ginny had known Harry. But it was also sometimes strange, knowing that her husband shared so many things with another woman. They still had secrets from childhood that she might never discover, or it seemed like Harry wouldn’t ever think to tell her. It was equally strange, accepting any kind of advice about her husband from another woman.
Ginny loved her sister-in-law, but sometimes the conversations grew strained. Nothing was perfect, including their familial relationships. Pausing, mildly amused, Ginny watched a specific memory from her fifth year play through her mind – one in which Hermione and Ginny had fought over Harry, though without really fighting over him. Ginny had snapped at Hermione and defended Harry’s behavior, thinking she somehow knew him better than Hermione did.
Ginny sighed.
She didn’t. Not really. She knew some things about him that Hermione would never know. Their romance and their marriage was theirs, and Harry was private about private affairs. But the heart of who Harry was… Even after so many years, Ginny felt like she was still constantly discovering new sides to her husband, hidden memories, misadventures from childhood, or unexpected views of the world. If she were honest, she worried that Hermione had a much better grip on the heart of who Harry was. And that always left her with a knotted, unsettled feeling that she preferred to push away rather than actually face.
“No, of course he hasn’t said anything,” Ginny replied, keeping her voice even. “He’s just been distracted more often.”
“He hasn’t told me anything either,” Hermione offered.
Their eyes met, and Ginny was grateful for Hermione’s effort.
“You didn’t have to come, you know,” Ginny said, moving away from the awkward subject.
“I know, but I had a long lunch break today.” Hermione smiled. Her eyes moved along to the bed, which she sat next to in the Hogwarts Infirmary.
Albus Severus lay there, still and looking peacefully asleep. Ginny and Hermione were both waiting for him to wake, though Madam Pomfrey, still at Hogwarts after these long years and looking exponentially greyer for it, had assured them that he was doing just fine and was still experiencing the effects of the sleeping potion she had given him.
Harry had already seen Albus. When Ginny and Hermione arrived together, he had been sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand stroking the sweaty, dark hair of his sleeping son, his own green eyes dark as they stared unseeingly across the room and out the window. But there was nothing at all to be seen outside of the window.
When he had noticed them approaching, he had said, “Great, I’m glad you’re here!”
Apparently, he was so glad that he forgot to greet them with a hello, or a kiss to Ginny’s cheek, or even a hug. He had simply stood from the bed, said his part, and made for the door.
“You can sit with him. I’ll be back,” Harry had said quickly.
It had been clear that his mind was elsewhere. Ginny had exchanged a glance with Hermione, who seemed to have realised that as well. In fact, her look had progressed straight to narrowed eyes and a tilted head. She was calculating something.
“Where are you going?” Ginny demanded quietly as Harry walked straight past her, headed for the door of the Hospital Wing. She spun on her heel so her eyes could follow her husband’s progress.
“I…I need to speak to McGonagall. I’ll be back.”
Then he was gone.
Ginny and Hermione exchanged glances again. Ginny had no idea what Harry was up to, but she tried to school her features so as not to let on, because Hermione looked like she was already figuring it out herself. Ginny was his wife. She should know. She should be able to read him better than his friends. But she felt as if she were leagues behind Hermione in terms of working this out.
Ginny quickly pushed down the hints of irritation bubbling at the surface. It was irrational at best.
But before she could explore the thoughts any more, her attention was stolen by Albus, who was awake and shifting uneasily in his bed. Ginny and Hermione rushed to his side, and the fourth year looked embarrassed at the attention, though pleased to have his mum, even if he thought a fourth year shouldn’t be so soothed by his mummy without being mortally ashamed of it.
“Oh, sweetheart, are you all right?” Ginny asked, running her hands over his face and pulling him to herself. His words were muffled by her chest but she noticed that his hair was still sweaty and messy – just like his father’s always was after hard work, exercises, or, of course, Quidditch games.
“I’m fine, Mum!” Albus said, pushing her away lightly. “Hi,” he continued shyly to his aunt, looking over at her.
“Hi.” Hermione smiled.
“I’m glad you’re okay, Albus,” Ginny started in, “but I’ve told you over and over again to please be careful in Quidditch matches! I was scared to death when that owl came-”
“Mum, please! You should know that it happens sometimes!” Albus protested.
Ginny was about to launch into a lecture about how her professional Quidditch playing was very different from fourteen-year-olds playing and doing stupid tricks, almost getting themselves killed when Hermione interrupted.
“Has your dad ever told you about his Quidditch injuries?” Hermione asked.
Ginny wondered if she had done it on purpose.
“Yeah!” Albus answered excitedly, sitting up in bed. He cast a chagrined look at his mum, but continued on with enthusiasm. “He was just telling me about the time he had to re-grow his bones!”
“Was he?” Hermione asked, leaning forward on the bed, on her elbows. She seemed to transform from the Magical Law Enforcement officer, with her finely tailored, dark and prestigious-looking, if also intimidating, robes, into a fourth year herself, eager for a story of adventure and daring. Of course, since they had Albus there safe with them in his hospital bed, she had the luxury of admitting of the adventure without thinking of the danger. She was always quick to worry for the family’s well-being, if ever anyone was in trouble, but they had established now that Albus was not.
Perhaps Hermione’s habit for concern dated back to those years at Hogwarts, always worrying over Harry. Ginny shifted and sniffed, the air feeling dusty.
“Yeah, Dad told me about when he fell from his broom and he broke his arm and it was terrible and it hurt, and then his professor used a Healing Charm and tried to heal him, but the professor wasn’t very good and made all his bones disappear.”
Albus made a disgusted face.
“And then Madam Pomfrey was mad, but she was still able to heal him, only it hurt a lot. Dad told me I needed to be careful, because magic can help some things, but it won’t fix or reverse everything, and my life isn’t worth a silly Snitch. And he told me to never let anyone use a Healing Charm on me unless they’re qualified.”
Hermione laughed, and Ginny echoed with an only half-hearted chuckle.
Harry was great with the kids. His boys looked up to him, wanted to be him, each in their own respect, and their daughter thought Harry hung the moon. Lily had already been sent back to her classes, as had James, from what Madam Pomfrey had said. According to her, Harry had spoken with them both before Ginny had arrived. She wondered how Harry had been able to get to Hogwarts so quickly. She had been in the middle of a presentation and hadn’t received word of the accident until the meeting that she had been in had ended. It was a good thing that her husband had been able to be there.
But Harry was an Auror. He couldn’t just duck out of the office on a whim. Ginny guessed that it must have been a slow day, or else Harry had already been out of the office. But in any case, he was Harry Potter, and the world liked to let him get away with everything, even if his wife didn’t.
Ginny was preparing to return to the conversation between Albus and Hermione when the Infirmary doors burst open.
A small, out of breath student stood there, his eyes searching the room, his hands hiding something in the folds of his robes.
There was no need to guess who the student was. If Albus’ constant chatter about the boy, including several requests to visit each other’s homes, hadn’t given the boy away as Albus’ best friend, then the familiar blond hair settled any question about who he was.
“Scorpius!” Albus called out, leaning around his aunt to see his friend. The movement caused Albus to grimace for a moment as he became aware of the extent of the bumps and bangs he had sustained and not yet healed from.
The boy in the doorway looked startled to find Albus with his family, and his face coloured slightly. Though he was undeniably a Malfoy, Ginny had been forced to admit long ago that Scorpius was not like his father or his grandfather – at least, not completely. He was a Malfoy, but he had also won Ginny over, and she no longer minded that Albus Potter was best friends with Scorpius Malfoy.
Perhaps it took three tries to get it right.
Lucius and James would certainly not have been friends. Neither had their sons been friends. Ginny couldn’t for the life of her imagine why Harry hadn’t gone raving mad when Albus started talking about the Malfoy boy who had befriended him. Ginny had always thought Harry hated Draco. Something had changed, and she had a sneaking suspicion that it had changed during his seventh year, a year that held more mysteries than it did answers.
Or maybe nothing had changed and Harry had never hated Draco after all. If that was the case, he could have fooled Ginny. But either way, Harry hadn’t made any fuss when Albus told story after story about his conversations and wily adventures with the young Malfoy.
“Sorry,” Scorpius apologised for interrupting, something Ginny could never in her life imagine his father doing.
“I, erm, I brought you lunch,” the boy continued, carefully making his way into the Hospital Wing. He wasn’t shy. Instead, he seemed very cautious and calculating. Where his father had been brash and brazen, Scorpius had not inherited those traits. The boy had always struck Ginny as being exceedingly intelligent, reserved until he trusted, confident, cunning, and also unpredictable.
An interesting combination, to say the least, but Albus thought the world of his best friend.
“I’m starving!” Albus replied.
It was all the permission the blond boy needed to bound forth and present the scraps of lunch from the Great Hall, beaming at Al as he shared his treasure, and casting uncertain looks at Ginny and Hermione. Ginny noticed the that he was rather small for a fourth year, but his lack of characteristic Malfoy-arrogance didn’t take away from his defiant, though still deferential, presence.
“You’ve met my mum and my aunt, haven’t you?” Albus asked Scorpius before digging in to the mound of food.
Scorpius smiled politely at the two women, but quickly returned his gaze to Albus. The two boys began to talk, engaging in lively stories and recapping the Quidditch match, and Ginny reminded Albus not to talk with his mouth full. Scorpius stayed for the duration of lunch, before bidding goodbye to them all and disappearing into the corridor. Ginny and Hermione had to say goodbye to Albus as well, once Madam Pomfrey came to administer the final potion, which would knock him out again but would heal the remaining injuries. He would be in classes by the next day, she assured them.
“Wait, where’s Dad?” Albus asked, sitting up in bed despite the dazed and sleepy look that the potion seemed to have promptly given him.
“He’s still around here somewhere, I imagine,” Ginny said gently to her son, though she wondered much the same thing. “I think he’ll come see you again before leaving.”
Albus nodded and lay down. He was asleep before Ginny and Hermione exited the Infirmary.
“I don’t get it,” Ginny said tensely as they strode down the hall, toward the stairs.
“What’s that?” Hermione asked.
“He comes here for his son, and apparently he was great with Albus. He always is, isn’t he? It’s not like he’s neglecting them. He never does, never has. But then he just disappears and doesn’t tell me anything abou where he’s going or whether he’ll be back or anything like that.”
She could almost feel the steam growing inside herself, and knew she should probably calm down before she let loose all of he fears and blew up at Hermione.
“Something’s up,” Hermione said quietly.
Ginny glanced sideways and caught Hermione’s eye.
“Why do you say that? Do you know something I don’t?” she asked.
Hermione frowned, which didn’t necessarily mean anything definitive to Ginny. Despite knowing each other for so long, Ginny couldn’t read all of Hermione’s facial expressions or emotions.
“What’s going on?” Ginny asked, abruptly stopping and grabbing Hermione’s arm.
“Nothing that I know of,” Hermione answered, though her tone indicated that she was deeply lost in thought. If Harry were there, Ginny knew he would tell her to wait for Hermione to figure out whatever it was and come to them, because she always did in her own time. But if Harry were there, Ginny wouldn’t be wondering what Hermione was thinking in the first place.
“What did you mean earlier?” Ginny prompted, her eyes looking deep into Hermione’s brown ones. They seemed to snap out of whatever dimension Hermione had been lost in just seconds before.
“When?” Hermione asked.
“When you said Harry was acting just like he had in sixth year.”
Hermione didn’t reply, but bit her lip lightly.
“How was he acting sixth year?” Ginny asked.
“You don’t remember?” Hermione responded, tilting her head as though Ginny should know.
“No, I don’t,” Ginny snapped. “I wasn’t a part of the Golden Trio.”
Hermione blinked, took a breath and stepped back.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that,” Ginny apologized immediately, stepping closer to Hermione to cover the space that had grown between them.
“Maybe it’s not just Harry,” Hermione said slowly, eyeing Ginny unpleasantly.
“I’m just…frustrated. I’m sorry,” Ginny excused herself. “Maybe it’s that time of the month or something. I’m sorry, Hermione. Being back here makes me feel like we’re kids again, I guess. I know I’m acting like it.”
They were lies, all of them. Excuses. There was no excuse for her behaviour, except that something didn’t feel right, and that something revolved around Harry, and she didn’t know what to do.
“We weren’t a Golden Trio. That name is absurd,” Hermione said stiffly.
“I know. I’m sorry,” Ginny apologised again.
“I can’t place my finger on it, but for some reason, this behaviour feels familiar,” Hermione supplied in a peace offering.
“What, the distraction, the half-uttered sentences, the staring into space, and those sudden bolts from the room? He’s never been like this. I mean…not with me. Not since we’ve been married,” Ginny admitted hesitantly.
“He did just turn forty,” Hermione offered, but it was a weak suggestion, and both women knew it.
“So? Mid-life crisis?” Ginny raised her eyebrows.
Hermione frowned, but it seemed neither of them had an answer. The two women turned to continue down the corridor and the stairs and were almost out the front doors when an owl stopped them.
“Strange,” Ginny said, but she took the note from the owl anyway. When she had finished scanning it, she handed it to Hermione, who read it after her.
I’m staying for a while with Al, and I’ll be home late tonight. I have to finish some things at the office that I haven’t had time to finish today, obviously. See you tonight.
Love,
Harry
Hermione shrugged.
Ginny sighed.
Something was going on.