Chapter Text
Harry had lost count of the number of times he found himself in that mildewy room. Despite how the building had flooded two years ago, the damp smell lingered in the carpets that were in thorough need of replacement. His fingers often itched to draw his wand and scour the place with fierce cleaning charms to vanquish that smell for good. Instead, his fingers performed their usual nervous tapping on the arms of the chair he occupied during sessions. He perched on the edge as if trapped in a moment of indecision, trying to choose between running out the door or mustering up some words to put his current plight into context. Silence appeared to fill that space along with the mildew.
Across from him, his therapist waited patiently as she always did. Both her hands rested on her leg, fingers relaxed and interlaced. Harry considered her long fingers, or more critically, he looked at the rings on her left ring finger. He mused at how metal bands with precious cut stones could symbolise something that he longed to feel… and how he wished desperately that he’d feel it before breaking the heart of someone else.
“How long have you been married, Mina?”
His voice finally broke through the silence. At the question, her long fingers flexed and she absently brushed the tip of her right pointer over the wedding band under her engagement ring. Harry looked up from her reflexive reaction, meeting her gaze. Her wistful smile let him know that his non-sequitur hadn’t fooled her. She knew where his thoughts were leading, recognising his patterns and his habit of self-deprecation. It didn’t take much for it to swing fully towards self-loathing.
“Nine years,” she answered casually, removing her hands from her lap. “It’s my second marriage, not that you asked, but a lot of my patients find it comforting to know that I was unlucky in love with my first husband.”
Harry’s brow furrowed, confused, “why would that be comforting?”
“Some relationships are part of the journey,” Mina said, her smile still wistful, “even if they aren’t the final destination. That is how I see my first marriage.”
He sighed, seeing how he’d been caught out. He turned his gaze towards the window, eyeing the condensation on the inside of glass. They really needed to sort out the damp problem at the clinic.
“We rushed into things… as fools in love tend to do,” she continued, not taking Harry’s silence as a dissuasion. “We were young, but everyone married young back then. I’m relieved that your generation can learn from our mistakes. You should always start a family and a life together at your own pace… and not at one set by someone else.”
“You think I did the right thing?” Harry asked, his voice flat. He could see her head tilt to the side.
“Was that in any doubt?” Her voice coloured with amusement and fondness that made Harry smile a little back. “Any time where you make a choice that’s for your own peace and wellbeing is a time to be celebrated. You were unhappy.”
He grimaced, “yeah, but… I broke her heart.”
“That is life, Harry,” she said softly, making him look at her again, “you can’t protect everyone from the pain of heartbreak, much less protect yourself from it. You had to choose what was right for you. And you would have done Ginny a disservice to continue on, pretending that you felt something you didn’t. You spared yourselves future pain, even if it hurts now, you can heal from it.”
It certainly hurt. Harry knew emotional pain, but it felt so different to be the cause of afflicting it upon someone else. His traitorous mind enjoyed replaying how Ginny accused him of ruining everything, the life they planned, the love they cherished… the pretty little picture of the perfect Potters that she built for them, the big house that would be filled with little black haired boys and red-haired girls…
But she wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t understand how Harry wasn’t ready for anything like that. He needed to figure out how to love himself before he could love someone else the way they deserved. He wasn’t ready to be anything serious, not a husband, not a father. He barely functioned at being just Harry. And being Harry Potter on top of that?
It was its own impossible job.
“I shouldn’t have let things go on for as long as they did,” Harry admitted. “There were only so many ways I could excuse why I hadn’t ‘popped the question’. I knew from as early on as the first month we started dating again after the war that she wanted to get married and have my kids.”
“I will refrain from saying anymore about how unhealthy it is to know from your partner that early on, but go on…” Mina said quietly, making him smile again.
“Right… and she was only just seventeen then. She was already thinking about baby names… and I don’t know if it was to help her mum with her grief over losing Fred, giving her hope of new life in the family or something. I… didn’t realise that it was weird.”
Mina nodded, reaching for her notepad. Harry hesitated, but tried to not be put off as she started to make notes on the things he was saying.
“Each relationship is a lesson and we learn so much from them… about ourselves, about who we are as partners and what we want out of life. As long as we learn, we can get to wherever the journey takes us.”
Liking the analogy, Harry settled back in his seat. It had taken him a few different therapists to find someone that he felt comfortable with. Having sessions with Wilhelmina Bright meant he had to go to the NHS clinic where she practiced. He didn’t mind applying for counselling through the muggle health service, even if it meant using his old records from back when he lived with his aunt and uncle. It felt strange at first to be called by his full name at the reception and receive zero response from the others in the waiting room. No one stared at him, no one tried to puzzle out what was wrong with him. He was just a 20- year-old guy, waiting to speak to a health professional.
Wilhelmina, or Mina as she insisted him calling her, was a squib herself. While she knew who he was and some of what he’d accomplished, she didn’t make it the focus of their sessions. Only when he brought anything up about the stress of his fame did she talk to him about it. Instead, they worked through the more pressing issues… such as his Depression and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.
After over a year, he’d shared more with Mina than any living person. She knew all about the relationships in his life, the losses he’d suffered, and the abuses he’d been through. He was finally getting the help he needed after growing up without proper emotional support.
“She’s already moved out her things so I don’t have to deal with that awkwardness at least,” Harry said, ready to share a little more of his relationship drama. “I’m keeping my distance from the family until the dust has settled. Molly is after my blood for hurting her darling daughter… and she’s more of a threat than the brothers.”
“What about your friends? How is Ron taking it?”
Harry sighed, running his hand through his hair. “He handles drama pretty poorly. He’s angry at me for breaking up with Ginny, but I think he knows that I was pretty miserable. It’s easy enough to avoid each other now that we’re not working together anymore. I’ll miss the drinks after work, but… I made my bed, I guess. Have to sleep in it.”
“A good friend will see that you made the right choice,” Mina pointed out, “and I think it’s for the best that you set your mind towards things you want for yourself now, rather than fulfilling obligations that others have for you. Ginny’s mother may have always wanted you to be a part of the family, but at the end of the day, you don’t have to make a wedding vow to her daughter to be seen as family.”
“I guess not…”
“Have you told Hermione that you have broken up with Ginny?” Mina asked, leaping quickly onto the next pressing question. Harry knew it was coming, guilt careening through him.
“She, uh, didn’t hear about it from me. Ginny may have… blamed Hermione for putting doubts in my head. She sent her a howler… you know what that is, right?”
“I can’t say that I do.”
“It’s a letter that pretty much screams out the message. You can’t avoid it either. I was expecting one from Molly, which I did get, by the way, so I know I’m not welcome for a Sunday roast any time soon… that one at least arrived when I was on my own at home. The one Ginny sent to Hermione? It exploded in the middle of a meeting with representatives of the French Ministry.”
“Ah…”
“Hermione isn’t angry with me, though I feel terrible that she’s under fire. You know she’s always been on my side… pretty much the only person who noticed how I was feeling. She pretty much forced me to stay over her place for a few days as she’s worried about me being on my own.”
Mina smiled at that, jotting down something in her notepad.
“I’m happy to hear that you’ll not be handling this transition alone. I don’t want to mention it, but I feel I must. The public? I take it there was a response?”
Harry appreciated the caution, steadying himself a little before answering. His hands gripped the arms of the chair briefly. Going about his daily business was a challenge with the usual harassment. The magical press descended upon him like vultures the moment Ginny attacked Hermione publicly. He knew it was a purposeful move on Ginny’s behalf to force him into dealing with the public, giving him little chance to meet with a publicist to limit the damage. Considering how off-footed he’d been, he hadn’t come across too poorly. Rumours had already ignited, circulating various publications and wireless frequencies. Mostly questions around his fidelity… which he absolutely hated.
“It’s world-wide news,” Harry said glumly, “but the general lack of drama has the vultures picking at bones.”
“Sensationalist news peeters out quickly,” Mina said wisely, “wild speculations lose credibility fast once the source dries up and everyone knows that they are just printing rumours to sell papers. Now, though, I have to ask. What’s next?”
Harry soon smiled again, feeling lighter. He relaxed back, thinking about how for the rest of the afternoon, he had absolutely nothing planned. He’d taken the afternoon off for his appointment leaving him blissfully free of all things Harry Potter related. He could go for a fly, visit Andromeda and Teddy, buy a load of ice cream and something to drink so he and Hermione could have a movie night. Then after that, his free time would be his own, the path clear for him to choose where he went next on his journey. Rather than feel daunted, he felt calm and resolute.
“I have no idea,” Harry said, feeling a little giddy as he did, “and, you know what, it feels great.”
Raucous, spontaneous laughter burst through the living room. The sound abrupt and sudden, the previously peaceful black cat curled up on the arm of the sofa darted off in alarm. Too breathless from laughing, Hermione struggled to pant out an apology to the family cat, Zorro, as he disgruntledly slunk into the kitchen. The cause of the mirthfilled explosion was the Grangers’ current house guest. He didn’t appear to be as amused as she was, feelings much more in sync with the cat. Her parents, however, chortled along with her, though not finding things half as funny as her daughter who was starting to wheeze.
Games nights usually ended up getting out of hand towards the end after they finished off the first bottle of wine. Hermione always won Monopoly, so that rarely made an appearance on the table. Playing against the Grangers in any game that involved an impressive vocabulary and MENSA level intellect always went badly for Harry, which made him the consummate loser in Scrabble and Trivial Pursuit. He had an unfair advantage in Cluedo, despite it being ‘chance and luck’ according to Hermione Granger. With a new game on the table, they all soon found out that Pictionary was not either of their forte.
Harry made an effort to pull back the terrible sketch he had made, but Hermione snatched it up. Tears filled her eyes as she tilted the scrap of paper as if it a different angle would lend a different perspective.
“Look at its legs ! You forgot to draw feet. It looks like an alien.” Hermione wailed, turning the picture around.
Embarrassed, Harry hung his head. He didn’t have much of an excuse for failing so miserably at drawing a kangaroo. He’d even seen them in the wild when he went with Hermione to Australia to restore her parents’ memories. The creature he drew resembled a koala bear more than a kangaroo. He at least got the ears right.
Hermione then folded up the page and pocketed it, giving Harry a devilish smile. He then laughed, rolling his eyes.
“Fine, fine, maybe we’ve found yet another thing I’m hopeless at.”
“Uh, uh… no putting yourself down,” Miranda Granger admonished him as she took the dice from him. “And stop laughing at Harry or we will get some of your old artwork down from the loft.”
As it turned out, Hermione’s art skills hadn’t improved much since being a child. Harry received payback when he cackled at her drawing of a fireman who he thought had been a snake charmer.
“The hose has eyes !” Harry burst out before smugly pocketing her terrible art piece, not before teasing Hermione and asking her to sign the bottom. For which he received a small whack on the arm.
As the night waned, it was soon time for him and Hermione to leave. It went unspoken how Harry had been collected up as a stray, absorbed into the Granger unit after being cast adrift following his breakup with Ginny. Five months had passed since he took the initiative and ended his doomed relationship. The idyllic life Ginny had prepared for had been thoroughly shattered when, instead of proposing to his girlfriend, Harry dumped her. The dream that was Ginevra Potter would only ever be a dream.
Saying goodbye to the Grangers, Harry kissed Miranda on the cheek and shook Richard’s hand. Both he and Hermione then pulled on their coats, subconsciously drawing close together as they stepped out into the blustery November night. Hermione clutched Harry’s arm as they walked down the path, heads bowed against the stormy wind. The weather was too poor for her parents to see them off, so they made their way without stopping through the gate and out into the quiet street. They crossed one road, passing a few more houses, before stopping before a shadowed alley that led to a playground and picnic area. While not a frequented location at night, the alley was a perfect spot for a little Apparation in a muggle area.
It also served as a private spot for something else just as deserving of secrecy. Hermione pulled Harry into the darkness, their shoes patting wetly in the rain. Despite the weather, they both stumbled a little clumsily until Harry’s back rested against the fence with a thud that was a little too loud for comfort. Hermione smiled, the orange gleam of the nearest streetlight the only light that gave their faces form in the dark. She could see the water drops on the lenses of Harry’s glasses. They were breathing quickly, eyes darting around their faces, inviting and challenging all at the same time. Hermione’s breath coiled and swirled in front of her, the chill of the night turning it into mist.
Harry’s lips touched against hers and they smiled together. It wasn’t their first kiss, nor even the second. Even so, their hearts raced at their daring. Just a single kiss, nothing steamy, but a promise and a claim all the same. Hermione’s fingers curled where she held onto Harry’s coat. He brushed his nose against hers.
“Same time next week?” Harry asked her.
“Yes… but…”
“But?” His eyes widened, worried. Hermione lifted her hand up, running her fingers down his cheek, feeling the rough stubble.
“But next week, you’re staying the night at mine.”
His breath rolled out, a warm mist of relief.
“Yeah… yeah okay.”
“Am I making a mistake?”
The hint of mildew in the air permeated Harry’s thoughts and conflicted feelings of self-doubt. Strangely, the scent that should bring connotations of neglect and decay made Harry feel safe enough to question himself. In that room, with its damp problem, he could ask such questions and not fear the answers. Across from him, Wilhelmina Bright tapped her pen on the edge of her notepad.
“Engaging in a consensual sexual relationship with someone you trust isn’t a mistake, Harry. Denying that this could lead to something more, however, is. People are perfectly capable of having sex outside of a conventional relationship… but is that what you want? Do you want to have all the physical benefits of a romantic relationship without the emotional ones?”
Rubbing the back of his neck, Harry touched the flushed skin that flared up in a mixture of shame and embarrassment. It took a lot of getting used to, being open about his sexuality with a middle-aged woman.
“We’re being adults about it. This… this isn’t a fling or a way to vent frustrations…”
“Adults make mistakes.”
“We’re taking accountability,” Harry corrected, feeling chastised even though Mina didn’t speak harshly or critically.
“Then why are you keeping your relationship a secret?”
“We’re famous, Mina.”
“That’s not the only reason. Both of you are too afraid of what comes next because you have been hurt before. You’re protecting yourselves and each other from what happens when you fall in love.”
Was he really that transparent?
Looking across at Mina, seeing her sympathy and her care, he knew that he was – at least to her. She knew he was afraid of falling in love. She knew about how terrified he was about turning twenty one in a year, about becoming older than his parents had been when they died. She knew how he agonised about the damage that had been done to him through a childhood of neglect… how he was afraid that it meant he didn’t know how to love in a healthy way.
It was possible that she knew he was already in love with his best friend… and had been for years. It only took him nearly a decade to realise it. She’d seen it in just a year. Harry brought his hands up to his head, pressing his palms against his temples.
“You don’t have to rush into things if you don’t feel you are ready, but don’t deny yourself the possibility of something special out of fear.”
Harry laughed bitterly at himself.
“Of all the things to be a coward about…”
“You are not a coward,” Mina said firmly, making him look at her, “it’s not cowardly to be afraid. What is cowardly is taking the easy option, even if it's not the right one? It’s turning away at the moment obstacles present themselves. That’s not you, is it? That’s never been you in your life.”
The words left him feeling vulnerable. Harry tucked an arm around himself.
“Don’t turn away now, Harry. Face this. Face the possibility that you and Hermione could be more than just friends.”
She then scribbled something urgently down in her notepad. Harry considered her words, weighing them in his head.
“Before our next session, I want you to do some research. Read something romantic, watch a film… listen to some love songs. If it makes you feel inspired, then maybe you do want something more. Sex is wonderful, but love? That is what the stories are all about.”
Sessions often left Harry in a desperate need of self-reflection (and, more often than not, a drink). He had no such luck, having to go back into work immediately after. Cases tended to rack up in December, keeping the Auror Office busy. Even rookie Aurors like himself were run ragged. He huddled his shoulders up to his ears as he took off down the street in the heart of Guildford. It was easy enough to blend in with the crowd with the collar of his winter coat pulled up. No one batted an eyelid at him when he reached an alleyway to Apparate in.
Manifesting in the bustling atrium of the Ministry of Magic, he had less luck blending in. His muggle attire drew attention, but he ignored the usual fuss he attracted while attempting to flatten his windswept hair. He managed to slip into an empty lift just as he caught sight of Percy Weasley, their eyes meeting across the distance. Harry had been doing a fine job of avoiding awkward encounters with the Weasleys, though it was more difficult in the Ministry where he occupied the same building as two of them. With Percy working under Kingsley as his Undersecretary, Harry found himself in his company more than he would like. Business made it difficult for Percy to pull Harry to one side… though he still valiantly tried.
He arrived to the usual hectic atmosphere in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. A flurry of lilac memos followed him to his desk, performing kamikaze dives to the already littered surface where various Ministry personnel had already sent him missives while away from his desk. He absently swiped them all to one side before removing his coat. He pulled out a set of shrunken robes from his desk drawer, enlarging them so he could pull them on over his usual work shirt and trousers. The robes were a little creased, but at least fit attire standards.
He barely stood at his desk for a minute before Dawlish popped his head around the corner of his cubicle.
“Ah, Potter, good. Can you give Peakes a hand in lock-up? I think he’s struggling with a hag that Wilson brought in.”
Half an hour later, Harry hovered over a sorry-looking Peakes in the medic room, dabbing Essence of Dittany into the deeper bite marks. It was typical for the newest recruits to be stuck with the jobs no one wanted. Peakes received his Auror badge just a month prior and very much looked like he was regretting his career choice. Harry grimaced in sympathy as he played nurse in solidarity. As much as no one wanted to admit it, the school ties carried on into their professional lives. Gryffindors always looked out for one another… and especially when they fought on the same side in a war.
Cleaning up hag bites gave Harry a chance to think over what had been discussed during his therapy session. He finished off wrapping a bandage around the other Auror's hand.
“Thanks a bunch, Harry,” Peakes said, wincing a little, “I think I’m going to give sharp-teethed old ladies a wide berth from now on.”
“Probably general good practice anyway,” Harry said, “though I don’t understand why you didn’t just stun her.”
“She was an old lady,” Peakes said, a little affronted.
“And now you’ve learnt your lesson,” Harry smirked, then nudged him, “come on, you never know, Robards might let you off writing the report because you’re injured.”
“Fat chance.”
To Harry’s dismay, when he returned to the main office, he saw the same Percy Weasley that he avoided in the Atrium waiting for him. Peakes glanced between them, picking up on the awkwardness at once. Harry had no way of avoiding the meeting, not when it appeared the Senior Undersecretary had a reason to be waiting for him. Percy also carried a solemn air as he watched Harry’s tentative approach. He made a show of cleaning his glasses when Harry reached him.
“I came by earlier, but the Chief said you were coming in late,” Percy said in way of explanation, “I’m sorry to interrupt you while you’re working. Dawlish assured me that you’re not on an active case.”
“What is it, Percy?” Harry asked, resigning himself to the fact he’d been cornered at last. “If this is about, you know, personal stuff… I’d rather it not be in the middle of the Auror office.”
Percy nodded gravely, sending Harry’s spirits down even further. He sighed then led him away from the desk cubicles and the many nosy colleagues that were all obviously eavesdropping. There was very little privacy in the shared office space. The break room wasn’t much better, but at least there was coffee.
“Mum wants to know what your plans are for Christmas.”
Mugs clanked loudly as Harry went to fetch two from the cupboard. He nearly dropped one in response to Percy’s blunt announcement. Setting the mugs down, Harry stared at him. His mind cycled through the same shocked thoughts, not progressing anywhere, so he walked to the coffee jug, drawing his wand to spell the jug into serving them coffee.
“I’m spending Christmas with Andromeda and Teddy,” he said once both mugs were filled. He didn’t bother handing Percy’s over to him, taking his own and went to stand against the wall.
“That’s… good.” Percy said haltingly. Harry rolled his eyes, all too aware of what was going on.
“Yeah… any reason why your mum wants to know my plans. She made it pretty clear that I’m not welcome at The Burrow anymore.”
Percy picked up the waiting mug, drawing his own wand as he siphoned off a little steam to bring the temperature down. He scowled a little over the mug as he sipped.
“You know what she’s like, Harry. She gets angry and upset, then when she’s had time to cool off… look, it’s not my business. If you don’t want to come over for Christmas, that’s perfectly fine in my book. I know Ron and George feel the same.”
“But I’m still your sister’s ex,” Harry coolly pointed out, “I’m still the one who broke her heart and ruined the dream of us being one big happy family.”
Percy drank a little more coffee, his ears flushing red as he did.
“Mum’s set in her ways. Just because her and dad put starting family first, she thinks we all have to follow in their example. She doesn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t want the same thing… keeps saying that it’s what we fought for… and what, well…”
What Fred died for.
Harry finished his sentence mentally, washing down the unspoken words with his own coffee.
“I think it’s best for all of us if I stay away. When enough time has passed and your mum is able to respect my choices, maybe we can start things over.”
Percy nodded, eyeing Harry appraisingly through his horn-rimmed glasses. He could tell that there was a kinship between them. Afterall, Percy had been the pariah of the Weasley family for a time and he deserved to be. All Harry had done wrong was realise that he couldn’t live a lie.
“I can’t say I’m looking forward to telling mum that she got exactly what she wanted when she sent that howler. I just… hope she didn’t drive you away completely. It would be a shame. I miss having you and Hermione over during Sunday dinners… and actual conversation.”
He sighed, giving Harry a sad smile, “give Hermione my best when you see her. I’m glad that you have each other still despite all this mess. Thanks for the coffee, Harry… and for talking with me.”
“No problem, Perce.”
A little bewildered, Harry watched Percy finish his coffee with surprising gusto before leaving him alone with a mostly full cup, glasses slightly misted. Unless he was mistaken, Percy had made some assumptions only without anger and judgement. Rather than be dismayed at the thought that Percy had gone away thinking that he was with Hermione, Harry instead rested his head against the wall, sipping his coffee.
The thought made him smile.
Even though Harry was younger and more spry than Andromeda Tonks, even he struggled to keep up with Teddy Lupin’s boundless energy. Entertaining a two-and-a-half-year-old solidly over Christmas Day had Harry digging into reserves he didn’t even know he had. In hindsight, perhaps putting on his Invisibility Cloak, then settling Teddy on his head and shoulders to make it look like he was flying hadn’t been the best idea. After running through the house for the seventh time, making loud whooshing noises as they pretended Teddy was a hippogriff, Harry was ready to collapse. It was approaching Teddy’s bedtime, so Harry managed to summon up his last vestiges of excitement. He lifted the little boy upwards, causing a cacophony of happy giggles as he swung him down.
“Get ready to land!” Harry called out before he deposited Teddy on the sofa. Teddy threw his hands up in the air.
“Again, Hawwy!
Bent double, hands on his knees, Harry felt like pitching forwards into a heap. Spared of coming up with an excuse, Andromeda breezed into the living room, carrying a glass of eggnog for Harry to take. Teddy would at least understand that if his hands were full, he was temporarily excluded from play time.
“Thanks,” he said to her, lifting it up to mime a ‘cheers’ in her direction. She fetched her own to salute him back.
Teddy didn’t take long to doze off. Harry got him to settle in his lap as he drank his eggnog, listening to the wireless. He paid little attention to the music, focusing instead on the little boy falling asleep against his chest, curling up against him. Teddy’s hair changed from his natural mousey blonde hue to jet black as he slept, the tuffs sticking up impossibly at the back.
“I’ll take him,” Andromeda said softly as she lifted the sleeping toddler from Harry, kissing the top of Harry’s head as she did. He sighed gratefully, ruffling Teddy’s hair before he was taken upstairs.
“Nighty night, Teddybear.”
Finishing his eggnog, Harry very quickly started to doze off himself. The fire crackled soothingly as a melodious voice he faintly recognised crooned from the wireless. He listened, his eyes sliding shut. The song was clearly a love song, not a lullaby, but the hypnotic motion to the melody swept him up in the cadence, making him listen to the male voice… deep…
The name came to him. Elvis. His aunt had a fondness for his music, listening to him when she did the spring cleaning. Harry used to listen too when he was there, locked in the cupboard where he had little choice but to overhear his aunt’s awful singing voice butchering the tracks playing on the radio. Without her ruining the song playing, Harry could appreciate the lyrics as they were meant to be.
“Take my hand…
Take my whole life, too.
For I can’t help falling in love with you…”
Something hot flashed through him. His breath hitched suddenly, hands flexing on the cup that he rested on his stomach.
“Like a river flows,
Surely to the sea,
Darling, so it goes,
Some things are meant to be.”
Harry’s eyes were wide open. He inched forwards, the sofa creaking under him. The set down the cup on the coffee table, gaze transfixed on the wireless. Heat had rushed to his face, tingling over his fingers.
Take my hand.
There was only one person who he’d give his hand to.
Take my whole life too.
And he would definitely give his life for her… already had, in fact.
For I can’t help falling in love with you…
His heart was racing, eyes stinging. Of all the places to be where the pieces fit in. He felt as if Elvis Presley was looking at him from the past as if he was the biggest idiot on the planet. As if the icon was passing the words to him, smacking him around the face to get his attention, because he was so clueless, so in denial, he needed a rock’n’roll legend to preach the language of love to him. Harry cleared his throat when he heard Andromeda’s footsteps upstairs. He pulled himself off the sofa, needing to fill up his cup of eggnog if he was about to face the truth as bravely as his therapist thought he could. A little dutch courage wouldn’t hurt.
The kitchen was a-brim with the aromas of Christmas, including the spices of the eggnog kept warm on the hearth. He ladled himself another serving, seeing his reflection in the darkened windows. His eyes were dewed, rare tears glistening on his eyelashes. What emotion had stirred within him then?
It scared him.
“Harry?”
Andromeda called him from the living room.
“In the kitchen.”
He glanced over his shoulder as she curiously peeked in. Her eyes widened when she spotted the redness of his face and mistakable evidence that he was teary. Concern shone in her dark eyes as she approached, her expression carrying all the compassion that her murderous sister had been incapable of showing during her life.
“Do you want to talk about it?” She asked him softly.
They had already talked throughout the day about the people who should be with them at Christmas. They grieved together, visiting Godric’s Hollow where their family was buried. Teddy was too young to understand where his parents were, but he was so kind and sweet, he knew that his godfather and granny were sad. They put the sadness aside for the rest of the day for the sake of the little boy who was in their joint care. Christmas Dinner had been joyous, as was playing with Teddy and his new toys.
Harry wasn’t sad… he didn’t think he was. Was realising that he was in love a sad thing?
“I’m scared to fall in love,” Harry stated, “but what do I do if I can’t help it?”
Andromeda rested her hand on the bottom of his eggnog cup and pushed it upwards towards his face.
“Do what the rest of us fools do, Harry, and listen to your heart.”
“That doesn’t sound very wise,” Harry mumbled into his cup, but drank as directed.
“It’s not,” Andromeda said with a smile, her eyes gleaming, “but love is the most thrilling and wonderful feeling in the world. You have to take risks, sometimes… you even risk it all… I know I did, when I fell in love with Ted.”
She brought her arm around Harry, steering him back into the living room where another one of Elvis Presley’s love songs serenaded them. She placed Harry back down on the sofa, retrieving her own drink as she relaxed on the cosy sofa next to him.
“That’s where you went wrong with Ginny,” Andromeda said with a rather stern look, making him look at her in surprise. “It was too safe. You were doing what you felt like you had to do, like someone had already planned your life so you didn’t have to worry about making decisions. It was easy, yes, but it didn’t challenge you, didn’t make you feel as you should about someone you love.”
Harry could feel the warm buzz in his head as the brandy in the eggnog got to work.
“She loved me though.”
“Hmm…” Andromeda clearly disagreed but said nothing else. “She can love again… as can you… and as can I. If there is anything the both of us have learned in this life, it’s that it's too short.”
Harry could attest to that.
He spent the rest of the night listening to Andromeda sharing how she and Ted fell in love. Very quickly, he began to understand why Mina told him to research romance and love songs. How better to understand love than from those who lived it. He would sooner listen and learn from a woman like Andromeda Black who turned her back on her wicked family in pursuit of love. That was a story that inspired, a story of love against the odds. Not one that was easy or convenient, but one that survived and endured.
After five more cups of eggnog, Harry managed to successfully Apparate while drunk. Stumbling down the hallway of number 12, Grimmauld Place, the narrow corridor helped him navigate towards the stairs. Scrutinising the staircase that fully resembled a deathtrap in his inebriated state, he instead fell into the living room. Staying on the floor for a few minutes, he waited pathetically for Kreacher to sigh aggrievedly at the state he was in. Face squashed against the rug, Harry managed to peer at the elf from the floor.
“I will sleep here tonight, Kreacher.”
“As Master says.”
“In- In the morning, can… can you remind me that I-I’m in love with my best friend?”
“Of course.”
Harry smiled into the coarse wool. “Thanks, Kreacher. You’re the best.”