Chapter Text
Harry sat in court, tired and restless. It was the fourth trial he had testified in in the last month and he knew it would last a loooong time, so he settled in and crossed his arms over his chest and relaxed back in the plush seat.
He'd had a shitty day anyway. The morning had started with a visit to see Hermione at her muggle home in one of the smartest areas of Hampstead. It was an awkward meeting. She still had no memory of him being her friend, was cordially polite, full of anxiety, and clearly didn’t want him there. Harry had no clue how to make any of it better, his jokes landed as well as wet farts and his questions were answered with suspicion from her very angry and emotional parents.
Her memory was gone, and not even from magical means.
She’d been in a car accident in Australia, a taxi driver had a head on collision with a truck - she was lucky to be alive. It was almost ironic, Hermione Granger had brain damage, which to Harry, just seemed like the last straw.
The good thing was that her parents’ memories had been restored by Australia’s finest memory healer - which sorted out one problem. And, Hermione knew she was a witch but she didn't remember school, or Harry or most importantly, Ron.
Ron had not taken the news well.
Hermione was healing gently but between herself and her parents, everything was strained.
And as they sat at the breakfast table in her rather large kitchen, she had asked that Harry back off for a while.
“I just need some time, Harry. I know we were friends and I know you're trying to help me but it's… not working. I just feel awful. Would you mind if we just write instead? I have an owl. Luna Lovegood sent it to me and corresponding with her has been helpful.”
“Of course,” he'd said, feeling his heart take another hit. He missed her, he needed her and after everything…it was just so unjust. Unfair.
I know we were friends.
Sighing and wrangling his morbid thoughts from his former best friend, he looked around at the Wizengamot as they chatted quietly in their throne-like seats. Fucking bellends, he thought moodily. He hoped this thing wouldn't last all day. He had to get to his class by 6pm and was hoping to eat before he left.
Andromeda had insisted he take a ‘parent class’ before he had Teddy overnight. She'd observed him change his nappy and feed him but she wanted Harry to really commit to his role as godfather.
Harry wanted Teddy and not just for the odd overnight. He wanted to be in his life properly, so he did what she asked. Even though it was embarrassing and made him feel like shit. At least it was in the muggle world and nobody recognised him.
“Hi Harry,” Luna said, sitting down beside him.
Oh thank fuck, Harry mauled her instantly, pulling her into a big hug. He fucking loved Luna. She made a slight noise in protest, probably to try and breathe more easily, so he released his death grip on her, apologising as he held her.
“It's fine, are you okay?” she inquired as she detangled herself. “Oh look, the teachers have arrived.”
Sure enough, McGonagall, Flitwick, and Slughorn walked into the room, settling in their seats and acknowledging Harry and Luna with a smile and nod.
Well that was at least something.
“Dean's here too, and Neville but they had to go to the loo before they came in. Think they're a bit nervous. Is Ron not coming?”
“No, he's got an appointment," Harry replied grumpily.
The fucker was getting another tattoo, care of Harry's newly procured credit card. He'd had three already but was quite keen to illustrate his body à la Sirius. And apparently didn't care enough about these lot to change the date.
“Really? What does he have so far?”
“A lion, naturally. The Cannon’s emblem and ‘Mom’,”
Luna smiled. “Bet they look good overall.” Ever the optimist.
“Yeah, they do actually.” Prick, thought Harry, semi-affectionately about Ron.
Harry sighed but then cheered up when Dean and Nev came in, fist bumping the pair as they sat down by Luna.
They started to chat about how they all were and what had been happening but the defendants were brought into the room and so everyone went quiet.
Chained, bedraggled and looking like death, Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, Millicent Bulstrode, Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott and Draco Malfoy sat in their designated seat and kept their eyes to the floor. Harry felt dreadful looking at them, he cast the Wizengamot a dirty look.
Fucking hell, they'd been kids through most of it. Was this necessary?
All of the Death Eaters and Voldy's supporters had been rounded up within minutes of the end of the war. These lot had spent the last two months in Azkaban. They were utterly defeated.
The Wizengamot had decided to complete their trials in one hit as they all had similar charges placed against them. Harry wasn’t surprised; it was like wizarding law was made up on the spot - probably over tea and crumpets. The whole thing was ridiculous.
Harry chewed his lip and shook his head. What a fucking joke.
In a moment of calm as the Chief Warlock detailed the charges set against them, Harry caught Draco’s eye. The once sleek Malfoy heir looked gaunt and miserable but in that moment a spark came back to life. He narrowed his eyes on Harry.
Feeling cheeky (and a spark within himself) he winked, and felt his mouth curl into a one sided smile.
Malfoy coloured slightly, fluttered his eyelashes and glanced away, frowning in confusion.
***
As predicted, the session ran for ages. The Wizengamot threw everything they had at the six former Death Eaters. Draco had provided clear memories of how all of them had taken the Mark under duress, even himself, but it wasn’t enough to clear them from everything; there had been testimonies from other students of torture.
Luna and Dean gave a similar testimony, detailing how Draco had cared for them in the dungeons of the Manor. He had brought them food and healed their wounds and protected them with lies that could have gotten him into a lot of trouble.
Harry felt pride wash over him. He knew a little of how Malfoy had shown signs of defecting but hearing it in court was a nice feeling.
Neville spoke about how Goyle, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Nott, and Zabini hid the younger students, protecting them from the Carrow’s and pretended to Crucio them by play acting and often getting Crucio’d themselves, if someone wasn’t quite believable.
The Hogwarts teachers spoke up for all of the students explaining how there had been clear signs of radicalisation by their parents and how they had been taught nonsense about muggle-born wizards, giving examples of how the six on trial would not believe accurate information and question it relentlessly.
And Harry had talked about everything he had seen and come across during the war. Including that fateful day at the Manor; he was adamant that he’d be dead if it wasn’t for Draco Malfoy.
The Wizengamot eventually came to a conclusion that the younger ex-Death Eaters had shown definite signs of remorse and defection, and were admittedly coerced into their positions within Voldemort's ranks. That being said, they had still committed crimes under the ‘Dark Lord’s’ regime.
They were released from Azkaban but under probation and without the use of their wands for twelve months. They would also need to get a job and spend at least three days a month doing something ‘muggle’, like ‘shopping at a supermarket, taking up the ‘foot- ball’ or ‘learning to drive a car’.
Dean and Harry exchanged a look at the last bit. Fuck’s sake.
Harry had watched Malfoy physically deflate when they were told they were freed from Azkaban, like he couldn’t hold himself anymore. Bulstrode and Goyle were quietly crying.
The last problem that they were debating (arguing) was that none of the five could go home. Their homes and bank accounts were subject to enquiry by the DMLE. Dark objects were being removed and their accounts were being investigated.
The Ministry didn’t want to fund former Death Eaters' rent and were unhappy about putting them in a hotel, and the solicitor was not happy that they were being released as homeless citizens.
Harry took a deep breath and stood up.
“I’ll take them,” he said loudly. He just wanted to go home and eat before his class.
The whole room gasped and looked at Harry with astonishment. “I’ll house and fund them for the next few months until they get access to their homes and accounts.”
Dean stood up, clearing his throat. “There’s a bar-person opportunity at my uncle's pub, I could easily get one of them a job.”
Neville followed. “I can offer two of them a job at my new herbology shop. Don’t need a wand, just a good pair of dragonhide gloves and I have plenty.”
Finally Luna stood, her lilting voice carrying across the room. “We need writers at the Quibbler. The pay won’t be great but it's a start.”
Harry looked across at his friends and smiled. Bless them.
“Sounds good to me,” said the solicitor, smiling slyly at the whole of the Wizengamot. Harry guessed they would be hard-passed to disagree. He was the ‘Chosen One’ after all.
Whilst they hammered out the final details and prepared the released prisoners, Harry sent Kreacher a patronus explaining what was happening and asking him to prepare the guest rooms. He had seven, three of which had an ensuite. He also asked that he prepare a very simple meal. Sirius had had real problems eating after Azkaban; everything had been too rich and made him sick in the beginning.
The probation rules were simple: they couldn’t get into any trouble, they couldn’t use magic, and they had to work at least three days a week. They also had to be respectful house guests - Harry added that one himself.
The solicitor shook his hand as he passed by and replied that he was working on their Gringott accounts next. “Two months, tops, Mr Potter. If nothing else, these lot will be able to shack up in a hotel for the rest of their probation.”
Harry nodded and smiled in relief. He could handle two months.
He hugged Luna, Dean and Nev - thanking them for also pitching in.
“We owe you far more than that. I would have offered Longbottom estate if I’d thought about it. We can swap if it gets too much, mate,” Nev said kindly.
“I live in a two bed flat with my mum, so you’re getting fuck all out of me but I’m gonna call my Uncle Steve when I get back. The pub’s in London - a tube stop away from your gaff, so we should be good.”
“What’s a choobe?” asked Luna with a perplexed look on her face.
“Well, sort of ‘good’...” laughed Dean.
“We’ll be in touch about the jobs, Harry, eh? Let them get settled in and have a wash and stuff. They look terrible. I’ll owl you on Monday?” said Neville, with a meaty clap on Harry’s back. Nev has grown even bigger since he’d chopped that snake in half.
“Yes, I’ll do the same," smiled Luna.
“I’ll be in touch, mate,” Dean said, waving and walking backwards.
“Thanks again, honestly. I really appreciate it.” He grinned at all of them and watched them walk away. Luna, small and sprightly as she skipped along next to the almighty Longbottom and Dean chatting away and making them laugh.
Harry waited for ages by the floo. He signed five autographs, had his picture taken with three families, and was thanked numerous times. It was now twenty to five and he was starving, tired and very much regretting his last minute decision.
Another completely reckless decision, Potter. Excellent work.
He eventually watched them walk out of a lift, escorted by two imposing Aurors. Each wearing outfits that they must have been arrested in. They had no bags, looked positively filthy in the warm lights of the ministry atrium, and the tension in the air was horrendously loaded. People were almost spitting in their fury.
A rage descended on Harry. The fucking Prophet had written appaling things about all of the Death Eaters – even the school children who were sentenced – and none of it was seemingly accurate.
Harry shoved down his rage and gave a welcoming smile. “Hi,” he said loudly. “You guys ready to come home?”
It was Goyle who responded the fastest. He walked swiftly up to Harry and hugged him hard. “Fuck!” squeezed out Harry. Greg Goyle was a big bastard. “Thank you, Potter. Fucking thanks.”
Harry managed to clap him on his broad back. “S’alright mate.”
The Aurors lowered their wands.
The rest were sullen and looked overwhelmed and a bit panicky. Pansy’s arm was wrapped around Draco’s in a death grip and Bulstrode was giving nervous glances to the gathering crowd and her eye was twitching.
The Slytherin’s solicitor shook the gang’s hands and then quietly explained to Harry that they were coming with nothing. He told him that he was currently working pro-bono and didn’t have a purse to hand over any money for clothing.
“I’ll sort it,” Harry said and then shook his hand also.
He gestured to the rabble to step up to the floo, thanking the Aurors who gave him a bewildered look, along the lines of, what the fuck are you doing? Grabbing some powder, he called out his address and watched as Draco, Pansy, Theo, Blaise, Greg, and Millicent walked into the green flames and through to his home.
Taking a deep breath, he followed.
***
“What do you mean you have to go out?” Parkinson asked with outrage.
He had shown them their rooms, (eternally grateful to Kreacher for making up beds), shown them the extra bathrooms, told them he would be sorting clothes tomorrow but asking Kreacher to wash their clothing whilst they bathed. He’d explained they would get dinner at eight and he’d be back by then but all six of them looked bewildered.
“Harry, I don’t mean to be indelicate but why would you leave us so soon in your house?” asked Theo in a quiet voice. He was so posh he pronounced it ‘huss’.
“I’ve got a prior - err, thing to do. I’ll be like two hours tops. Seriously, make yourself at home. I know it’s a bit dingy but I have fuck all knowledge about magical houses so I’ve been trying to sort it out and it’s not working. Kreacher knows the score though and he’ll help you guys out.” Draco just sat on the old red velvet sofa in the lounge and looked disbelievingly around the place. As it was originally the Black’s house, Harry wondered if Malfoy had been here before.
“It’s fine Potter, we’re big boys and girls,” Blaise Zabini, drawled from the armchair he’d fallen into. “Can’t expect to have the Chosen One to ourselves all the time, he has other urchins to save.”
Harry let it roll off him. When you’d died twice and disintegrated a Dark Lord, Pureblood snarking was easy-peasy.
“Exactly, more urchins to save. Now be good and have a fucking bath you lot. I’ll be back in no time.”
Blaise saluted him and Harry waved vaguely in their direction.
He walked to the front door and apparated to the nearest point for where his class was held. He popped into a shop on the way, grabbed a Mars Bar and then made his way into the village hall to learn about baby care.
It was a fairly good session. He learnt about what to do if a baby was choking, how to swaddle, and all about breastfeeding. He changed a baby doll’s nappy competently, had a good laugh when the chap next to him doll’s leg fell off, and got into an interesting debate about finger foods.
Next week’s session was going to be about the Importance of a Routine. They were given a leaflet on children choking and healthy eating, which seemed a strange pairing but Harry was glad to have it. He raced back to the apparition point, and headed back to Grimmauld.
He found the gang eating at the shabby kitchen table. They looked up as he came in. Greg was holding his stomach and moaning. Kreacher was pulling a basket of bread rolls away from his meaty fist.
“No Master Goyle, you’ll be sick again.”
Harry quietly Vanished the basket and sat down at the table. “Hi,” he said.
“Does your house not like you?” asked Milicent, watching him with a frown. She looked a damn sight better than she had previously. Her hair was clean and it was a tawny colour, long but wrapped into a bun at her nape. She had big features but not unpleasant. She was a statuesque woman, Harry supposed. A little thicker than the rest. It suited her.
“No, it fucking hates me,” Harry replied honestly. Kreacher put a plate of food in front of him and Harry thanked him.
“Why’s that?” she probed whilst Harry shoved mashed potato into his mouth.
Draco answered whilst his mouth was full. “Did you not listen earlier? It's because it’s a Black house. My cousin bequeathed it to Golden Balls but the house is only obedient to the heir.”
Harry jabbed a fork in Malfoy’s direction and swallowed, “What he said.”
Malfoy looked at Harry with surprise. He wants me to react. Harry smiled pleasantly and winked again. Malfoy rolled his eyes, but there were spots of colour on his cheeks.
Bulstrode opened her mouth, presumably to ask another question, but Parkinson piped up. “Do not ask who the heir is Millie!” Then her attention went to Harry. “Are you assigning the job roles or can we choose, Potter?”
He frowned. “You can choose.” Jesus Christ, their lives must have been so fucking weird.
“Quibbler!” Pansy and Theo shouted as Goyle shouted “Herbology!”
“I want the muggle bar job,” replied Blaise, checking out his fingernails and then frowning, “and a fucking manicure.”
“I’ll work with Longbottom, he’s definitely had a glow up.” Bulstrode exclaimed with glee. Goyle side-eyed her and she nudged him with a grin.
“Oh yes, chopping that fucking snake in half was monumentally sexy,” agreed Pansy.
Harry nodded along and ate some grilled chicken as he listened. He was pleased they were all happily going along with their sentences.
“And what about me?” asked Malfoy indignantly, placing his knife and fork ‘just so’ on the plate. “All of the assignments are taken.”
Harry took a sip of water and sat back. “Don’t worry Malfoy, I’ve got an idea of where we can put you.”
“And may I ask where that will be?” Sarcasm was positively dripping from him but the exhaustion was making it less funny.
“Not yet, gotta speak to a friend.”
Harry acknowledged all of them. “I can probably guess it’s been hell in that place so we figured you need some downtime before starting work. I think the assignments will be starting mid week so eat, relax, rest. I’ll be heading out tomorrow to get you some new clothes - if you want to come, I’ll be leaving at ten. I’ve got something else to do between one and four-ish tomorrow and then I’m around again in the evening. The house is yours. There’s a tiny library on the ground floor and I’ve managed to get a TV working in the lounge - you’re welcome to it. Kreacher is around for food and cleaning etcetera but we need to do some stuff manually, so I’d ask that you be respectful. I pay him a wage these days (although I think he’s been putting it towards the shopping money)...Anyway!” Harry lowered his voice. “The point is, he gets tired – so don’t be a dick to him.”
They all looked at him and Millicent began to cry.
“Err,” Harry winced, not knowing how to handle that.
Goyle sighed and he took her in his arms and held her.
“It’s not you Potter, it’s just - all of it. It’s very overwhelming.” Theo explained kindly.
Harry nodded and then looked at Theo again, “We look a bit similar, don’t you think?”
Theo huffed out a laugh. “It has been said before,”
“LV used to double take when he saw Theo. He was banned from a lot of the meetings,” Parkinson said conversationally.
“No way,” replied Harry, thinking, this is fucking weird. He finished his dinner whilst they chatted and then got up.
“Right, I’m, err, gonna sort some shit out. So I'll see you in the morning.” He waved his wand and sent the dishes flying into the sink, using a washing up charm to clean and dry them. People were still drinking so he left the glasses.
“Harry,” Parkinson called, catching up to him as he walked through the door.
He turned to the dark-haired, pretty witch and waited.
“Listen, I’m sorry about what I did back at school.” She searched his eyes. “And, thank you for what you’ve done for all of us.”
He’d had letters from all six of them. He guessed that their solicitor had implored that the gang write to everyone they had wronged and had checked the apologies succinctly. None of the letters admitted their crimes, per se. They all vaguely impressed upon people how they were ignorant of any implications and sorry for the harm that was caused. He was touched that Pansy had followed this up with something that seemed genuine.
But he was also a bit shit with serious feelings so he gave her a weak thumbs-up and she laughed.
“No probs, g’night Pansy.”
She sighed and walked back into the kitchen.
***
Harry ended up taking them to a large muggle clothes shop just on the outskirts of London. He showed them how to use the bus as none of them knew a thing about it, giving them a fiver and directing them how to ask for a ticket. He was surprised to see all of them waiting by the door at ten on the dot.
At first the gang were a little overwhelmed. Pansy clung to Draco and Bulstrode was squeezing the life out of Goyle's meaty hand. Blaise had his chin up but Harry saw him swallow nervously once or twice and Theo was visibly sweating.
“Merlin,” he muttered, wiping his brow with a hankie as they walked down the crowded street. Coming shopping on a Saturday with a bunch of Purebloods, in retrospect, was probably a bit of a stupid thing to do, but they needed clothes and he had no idea what size they all were.
The stiff upper lip of the British and the whole aristocratic vibes got the Slytherin Six through the experience. They were blatant, a little rude and sneered at people who came too close. Together, they were a little force to be reckoned with but Harry could see how out of depth they felt.
“There’s so fucking many of them,” Goyle hissed, wide-eyed as an a little old lady rolled her wheely-basket over his foot.
“And they bite too,” Harry gnashed his teeth and to his surprise Goyle laughed and clapped him on the back. Fuck, the force the guy had was unreal.
He sat on a chair as they tried crap on and finally, feeling like Richard Gere, he paid for all their purchases on his credit card.
He wrangled the Slytherin’s home and was gratified when Millicent offered him a coffee. “I know how to make one the muggle way, as Mother and I used to play tea parties before I was of age,” she announced shyly. “And call me Millie,” she added.
Watching Malfoy try on jeans was a strange memory that Harry would personally like to completely forget about. This time, it was Draco who raised an eyebrow when Harry was caught looking at his arse in the mirror - which was exactly what Malfoy had been looking at also.
Harry didn’t even know he was doing it till he glanced up and their eyes connected. He blew on his coffee and relaxed into the sofa as Blaise and Pansy did an impromptu fashion show.
“How fucking great do my legs look in this skirt?” Pansy asked the room, not really caring for the answer as she twirled in her maroon mini skirt.
“It’s fucking brilliant you get to see skin in the muggle world. McGonagall should have just told us we’d see cleavage and I’d have turned just like that.” Goyle snapped his fingers.
“T-shirts are an excellent invention. I’d just like to cast a fucking charm on this hideous tattoo,” Blaise muttered, glancing in the mirror at his grey T-shirt and his forearm.
The other Slytherin’s agreed with various mutters and incoherent words, grumbling about their Mark.
“It looked like it hurt like hell,” Harry exclaimed, thinking absently of the memory Malfoy had shared and then instantly regretted it. The six had all looked in so much pain, gritted their teeth and screaming whilst being held down by their parents. It was the ultimate betrayal of someone who was supposed to care for you.
“Worst pain of my life,” Theo replied with a grave smile.
“Worse than Crucio,” Goyle stated miserably.
Malfoy got up and walked out of the room, Blaise gave Harry a shrug and followed.
“Sorry,” he said to those that were left.
“Well,” Theo began, changing the subject and sipping his coffee. “Should we try a round of exploding snap, perhaps? I noticed you had a pack in here last night.” He got up and peered at a bookshelf. “Ah, here they are.”
“Oh yes, let’s play. Have you time for a round before you head off, Potter?” asked Pansy.
Harry looked at his watch. “I can play one game, I think.”
They set themselves up a table and Theo dealt out the hands.
***
Harry walked through the floo at ten past one and was instantly accosted by Andromeda Tonks.
“Harry! You absolute idiot, what on Earth are you playing at?!” she screeched, grabbing his hands and then reluctantly rising up to kiss his cheeks. He toed off his trainers and left them in a heap by the fireplace.
The older lady dragged him into the kitchen in a swish of skirts and scarves. Her hair lay long down her back, streaked with grey but pretty in soft waves. The Tonks’ cottage was a pleasant pairing of muggle and wizard attributes. It had big fireplaces but normal kitchen appliances. A vast television sat in the front room with comfortable modern sofas placed around it.
The kitchen table was oak and sturdy but it was shoved up against a windowed wall looking out to a pretty garden, with an upholstered bench sat beneath. Teapot, cups, and biscuits were already awaiting his arrival. Harry sat down heavily and waited for Andromeda to read him his rights.
“It was a reckless decision and I’m VERY annoyed with you,” she said, pouring his tea and putting no less than three fancy biscuits on a smaller plate.
“I know, I mostly did it because I was hungry.” He rubbed his face tiredly and instantly Mrs Tonks placed a kiss on the top of his head and walked to the fridge to get the jug of milk.
“Well, you’ve been under a lot of stress…” she muttered as she retrieved it and sat down.
“How are the miscreants?” she asked, stirring the milk in his tea and handing it over. He warmed his hands on the cup.
The older lady glanced at the baby monitor which was sitting on the counter for a moment. Teddy’s schedule had him napping for a few hours in the afternoon.
Pleased that she was now calming down, he spoke to her about the trial and the subsequent rehoming.
“They’re being nice enough, they're subdued, and look fragile and helpless. They’ve no fight left in them, really. I think it’s all just been an ongoing shock.”
Andi sighed and put a hand under her chin as she leant on the table. She looked tired; he guessed Teddy still was up a lot in the night. She was also grieving for her husband and daughter, and trying heartily to keep her spirits up so the baby was unaware. It was an impossible task.
“It’s all such a mess still. I hope you’re getting a little support?”
He told her about Luna, Neville, and Dean offering their services. She smiled.
“Can I tell him that Narcissa is here?”asked Harry, aware that she would know who he was referring to.
“No you may fucking not! She’s still only lucid for a few hours a day.” Andi got up, grabbing her cigarettes and lighting one as she stood by the open back door. She inhaled and threw him a dirty look. “She said specifically that she didn’t want him to see her like this.” She blew the smoke out the door.
“Can she not just go to St Mungo’s?” Harry hated that Andromeda was not only looking after a four month old but she was also caring for her almost-catatonic sister. It was too much on top of everything else.
“God no! They won’t treat her, Harry! All I can do is offer her Mary’s services and hope that will work. With time she’ll come around.” Mary was a Mind Healer who was offering her services off the books.
Privately, Harry thought this all stank badly. It was Andromeda that had been worse hit than Mrs Malfoy and he suspected that Narcissa just needed a good shake, but she had saved his life in that forest and he owed her something at the very least. Lying to Malfoy wouldn’t be fun though.
As if on cue, Teddy gurgled over the monitor and Harry felt a rush of warmth run through him.
He looked at Andromeda and she smiled at him with a small nod.
“Get some rest Andi, I’ll have it all under control for the next few hours,” he said as he got up.
“I’ll leave his lunch and bottle out. He needs a change and–” “I know!” Harry said as he raced out of the kitchen and headed to the stairs.
“Don’t go in the spare room!” Andi called. What to see Mrs M? Not likely.
Harry took the stairs two at a time and opened the door into Teddy’s nursery. The room was light blue and had a yellow duck mobile above his cot. A few fluffy toys lay in a basket and his little wardrobe and a plush, comfy armchair stood up against one wall.
A duck mat lay on the floor next to the cot and Harry’s sock covered feet padded over to it. He leant over to see a smiling Teddy who squealed to see him and drummed his heels on the mattress. “Hey buddy!” Harry said softly, feeling like his whole body was being squeezed with love.
Teddy raised a hand towards him and clenched it with a gurgle of noise and then stuck his whole fist in his mouth.
“Yep, hungry. Got it dude. Let’s give you a change and then we can head down for some lunch.” Harry picked the baby up, marvelling at how it had become so easy these days – in the beginning, he’d been a bag of nerves when he picked him up. He cradled his head naturally and popped a hand under his butt. He smelt his head (an uncontrollable reaction to Teddy that Harry rarely ever did with anyone else), breathing in and savouring the wonderful smell, and popped an errant kiss on his fluffy bonce.
Harry chatted away to Teddy as he changed him, wiping carefully in all the crevices like Andromeda had shown him. He put the nappy in a bag and left it to one side, redoing all his little press studs of the babygrow, but, of course, blowing a raspberry on his tummy which made Teddy grab onto his hair. Harry detangled his fingers and they had a good laugh together.
He took Teddy downstairs to an empty kitchen, put the nappy bag in the bin, took a sip of tea, and snagged a biscuit one-handed whilst heating up Teddy’s brown sludge in the microwave and grabbing a bib from the hook by the door.
He finally sat Teddy in his highchair and left the food to cool for a moment whilst he filled up his water bottle. Ted had a good drink and Harry chatted away about his weird couple of days.
He fed the baby, making exuberant mouth movements to encourage him to eat, cleaned up, and went into the lounge and played around with him on the floor for a bit, encouraging him to sit up and putting things in his hands for him to clasp.
“Bah!” Teddy said and looked up. Harry smiled and levitated a few things over to the baby and Ted squealed again.
They had a cuddle together and watched some telly for a few minutes. Harry changed him again, this time a stinky poo that nearly made Harry vomit and he honestly could not tell if he’d got it all off his hands, even though he’d washed them twice.
He put him in a thicker all-in-one and grabbed the baby carrier doobry which was strapped around his chest and they went for a walk. Harry took him down the lane and pointed things out to Teddy which he blinked at, more than happy to play with Harry’s fingers.
Eventually, they came home. It was almost four and Harry hated that a pit of despair had hollowed out his stomach.
Andromeda was in the kitchen when they came back. “Hi Bobba!” she said to Ted, looking a bit more rested.
Harry was reluctant to hand him over so sat him on his lap for the last ten minutes whilst Andi asked about his class, interested in the choking aspect and what you had to do, just in case. “Oh, can I look at the leaflet?” He promised to bring it next time.
Saying goodbye to Teddy was traumatic so Harry did it quickly. Kissing him and getting one last sniff.
He kissed Andromeda’s cheek, thanked her profusely and then walked through the green flames back to Grimmauld feeling like his heart had broken all over again.
***
He walked back into his home to an almighty ruckus. There was lots of shouting and he ducked as a tea towel got thrown across the room. Theodore Nott was doing a champion job of holding back Greg Goyle, with support from Millie who had her shoulder in the larger man’s gut.
And Blaise had Malfoy in a complicated arm bar with Pansy sitting at the kitchen table filing her nails.
He heard, “Get fucked, Goyle!” and “You absolute massive twat, Malfoy!” before he decided to do a u-turn through the floo, reciting the address to the flat above the Weasley’s shop. Thankfully, the floo was still open and Harry didn’t hit a ward barrier and bounce back into his own kitchen.
The lounge in the flat had a seventies style vibe to it – lots of orange carpet and brown curtains – and Angelina, George’s girlfriend looked a little surprised to see him as she lounged in jogging bottoms and one of George’s jumpers on the sofa.
She had a paisley wrap around her hair and her toenails were painted a bright red with tissue in between each one.
“Shit, sorry Angelina,” Harry apologised.
“Hey Harry.” She got up and gave him a one armed hug, walking carefully so as not to knock her painted toes. “It’s fine, so nice to see you.”
He hugged her back. “How’s Teddy?” she asked, gesturing for him to sit down.
Harry felt his heart squeeze again but swallowed it down. “Amazing, I’ve just come from Mrs Tonks. How are you guys doing?”
Angelina’s smile faltered, knowing full well Harry was asking specifically about George. Losing Fred had been really hard, obviously it had, but George was pretending that everything was fine and had been back to work as normal for a little while. They were all waiting for the penny to drop.
“Same really.” She lowered her voice. “He talks about it for a moment and then ‘recovers’ and carries on like everything is brilliant. I just – can’t really get through to him.”
“I’m sorry.”
She smiled politely. “He’s downstairs in the back of the shop if you want him?”
Harry got up and gave her a thumbs up, heading towards the stairs.
“Oh I heard what you did, you nutcase, Harry!” she shouted as he left the living room. He huffed out a laugh.
“Reckless, Angelina!” he shouted back. He heard her laugh.
Harry carried on down the stairs, opened the door and headed into the back of the shop where George and Fred had set up a workshop.
“Alright Handsome!” George looked up from his bench where he was doing something dodgy to a cauldron. He had safety goggles on his head.
“Alright George, looks fucking dangerous mate…” Harry jerked his head to the hot pink bubbling contents of the cauldron.
“I’ll have you know that I’m a fully qualified–” he faltered for a minute before deciding on, “...Weasley. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
At that moment, acrid smoke started spreading from the cauldron and an intense stench of burning filled the room. “Fucking hell,” exclaimed George as he coughed and vanished the entire thing.
Harry opened a window. “Still looking for a potions expert?”
He looked glum. “Can’t afford one.” Potions masters were notoriously well paid and George needed an excellent one.
“How about if I tell you that I have a decent potions person who you can pay a measly amount to and boss them about…”
George looked at Harry and then sighed. “Is this about you opening up Grimmauld as a Slytherin Safehouse?” Harry nodded.
“I’m not fucking hiring Draco Malfoy, Harry. One, he’s a whiny, little bitch. Two, you and I both beat the shit out of him on a quidditch pitch which, although incredibly satisfying at the time, may hinder a professional working relationship between us and three, he’s Malfoy! Ron would literally kill me.”
Harry just looked at him.
“I can’t do it…” George said, shaking his head.
“Two months, tops. Maximum of three days a week. You can leave him back here with Lee whilst you are in the shop.”
“Fuck off, Harry. No!”
“It’s such a lovely shop, so amazing you got it for the price you did,” Harry said with a sly smile.
“You are such a fucking dick, Harry. What happened to ‘don’t mention it again. I don’t need the money?’”
“C’mon, George. I know he’s a twat but they are all so defeated. Honestly, he’ll be no trouble,” A small pang of guilt ran through Harry as he thought of the fight he’d escaped earlier.
George sighed. Harry grinned.
“Trial period. One week. If he’s a dick, I’m binning him off. No second chances. I mean it!”
Harry fist bumped him. “Love you, George.”
George smiled at him, “Pain in the arse, ‘Saviour’. Love you, too.” and blew him a kiss.
***
Harry had ended up staying with George for a while, drinking tea and generally chatting about any news they had. He asked about Ginny and how she was getting on. He’d had two letters from her since she’d been away but was guessing George would know more.
He didn’t though; he said he knew as much as Harry did.
Ginny had been signed to an American Quidditch team and was currently in California having the time of her life. He was happy for her but sad she wasn’t around to talk to anymore.
When he’d told her that he’d had a bit of a sexual self-discovery moment, she’d laughed and said “You and me both mate,” but hers was of the purely hetero ‘I want to get laid’ vibe, compared to his. They decided to stay friends, happy for the memories but also big enough to know they both needed to concentrate on themselves.
Molly didn’t take it well - although she had less tattoos and weight lifting form than Ron did.
George told Harry that Angelina was getting pissed off with Ron bringing a new witch back to the flat every other night. She thought he was being disrespectful to women and Ron had argued that he was being honest about what he wanted and never promised anything.
Harry told George that Ron was working out in his garage and had discovered Sirius' old motorbike and was ‘fixing it up’. They had a good laugh about that. Ron was about as technical as Arthur.
“I told him not to come to work for a bit,” George explained to Harry. “He’s doing fuck all when he’s here and he’s mainly hungover or exhausted. It doesn’t bode well for the kids that come in.”
Harry worried about Ron but he’d tried so many times to chat to him and it never worked. “I think he just needs to get it out of his system.”
George agreed and then asked about Hermione.
Harry rubbed his face. “I know it’s real. I know she really did get into a car accident and lose her memory – I mean she’s got a cracking scar on her head, they shaved it, so it’s really there. But honestly, it’s a little bit like she’s just gone, ‘fuck this, I’m not interested and I need a break from it all.’ She did so much - she did everything, really. I just showed up for the dangerous bits.”
George sympathised and Harry had that moment of ‘what the fuck am I doing? This guy just lost his twin brother’. He tried to ask George about how he was coping but George waved him off.
“Another time, mate,” he said kindly. “Tell Malfoy, Wednesday 9 am.”
Harry headed back home.