Find Yourself

“Young Master, young Master…” The young man registered a small hand on his shoulder. It explained the odd shaking. Someone was trying to wake him up. He let out an annoyed warble and turned over to the other side as he was in no mood to get up.

An aggrieved but quiet sigh reached his hearing, though he paid it no mind since his consciousness was already drifting off, the world growing nice and fuzzy once more. That is until a sharp ‘click’ echoed through the room and a veritable downspout of ice cold water fell down on him. Green eyes blazed from under a mop of wet dark hair, as Harry tumbled out of the bed in his hurry to get away from the water, an agitated hiss escaping his lips.

“KREACHER!” He all but screeched, glaring at the small form of the House Elf. “What the hell was that for?!”

The Elf was supremely unimpressed, his wrinkly face completely devoid of any and all emotion as he deadpanned, “Master said that he needed to be awake by 10 AM no matter what. It is now 9:50. Any later and Master will be late.”

The wizard bit back a curse. More sleep was definitely not in the cards for him, which was unfortunate to say the least. He threw a mournful glance back at the back and unsteadily clambered in the general direction of the bathroom. Thanks to the cold shower by Kreacher, he now had a burning urge for a hot one, seeing as how he was all but shivering in the aftermath of his encounter with the cold water.

Luckily it didn’t take all that much time to turn himself into some semblance of presentability. Kreacher laid out a set of robes on the bed for him and Harry automatically slipped into them, not thinking about it much. He grimaced after glancing at the clock.

“Kreacher, could you give me some scrambled eggs, some fruits, toast, and some tea for breakfast, please? I don’t have much time left before I need to be at the Burrow.” Asking Kreacher for things like this always made him feel awkward, but now that he knew that completing orders literally supplied Magic to the House Elf, he did his best to leave some easy things for the creature to do. After all it didn’t cost him anything, except some minimal emotional discomfort which he didn’t think about as a total pro.

“At once, Master.” Came the prompt response, followed by a loud crack that signaled the Elf’s departure.

Naturally the food was good, seeing as Kreacher always did his best to please his young Master. Yet for some unknown reason, Harry couldn’t help having a niggling feeling of dissatisfaction at the back of his mind, an unfortunate sensation that has only grown as the days pass. Some days it was barely noticeable, while on others it took all of his willpower to not take out his agitation on those around him. Most noticeably the criminals that he chased, which really were the biggest reason for his near constant missions. He did not want to lose his temper near his important people. Finally, he couldn’t procrastinate any longer and with a deep heavy sigh Harry made his way to the Burrow for an overdue meeting with his … wife.

Right at 12 AM on the dot, a very thin young man with shoulder length messy black hair appeared in front of the weird gravity defying house known as the Burrow. Secretly he hoped no one would be out to greet him, at least not so soon, but alas, Hermione and Missus Weasley were both waiting for him.

“Harry.” They both spoke at once and gave each other a small glare, accompanied by a frown.

Apparently, there was some measure of discord going on in the family outside of Harry and Ginny's marital issues.

“Ladies.” Harry tried to imitate Kingsley’s smile meant for politicians, but wasn’t sure if he succeeded at all, for their faces didn’t change at all, oh well.

It seemed a little strange, but Harry could almost feel how much tension and apprehension there already was in the air. Finally, after a few awkward moments of silence, Molly gestured for Harry to go inside, probably when she realized he wasn’t going to say anything else. With a polite nod to both of the witches, the young man followed them in, his green eyes blazing with a quiet determination. He would get to the bottom of the whole situation and he would not be distracted from doing so.

A glance at the family clock told him that both Ron and Ginny were either still home, or already back. Which was good for his reasons for coming here, but it also had potential for lots of … bickering and he was really not in the mood for that, thank you very much.

Finally, the two witches and Harry settled around the living room. Molly on the loveseat, Hermione in the armchair to her left, and Harry opted to take the chair by the fireplace.

“I’m so glad you managed to come home, Harry. We all missed you.” Hermione’s voice was oozing sugar like a broken faucet. It was very unlike her and made the man cringe at the sound of it.

“You saw me on Sunday, Hermione.” He retorted in the most unimpressed tone he could manage. “And I can’t say that that conversation went all that well.”

She looked away with a cringe. “That’s not fair, Harry.”

“Isn’t it though?” He refused to feel guilty, he had done nothing wrong after all.

“That’s not why we are here today, please stay focused, Hermione.” Chided Molly Weasley without even looking at the younger woman.

“Why are we here then, Molly?” Harry pounced at the opportunity presented.

“Young man, you must be joking!” She managed to sound both incredulous and put out at the same time.

“I assure you I’m quite serious.” If you asked Kreacher, who was totally NOT spying on the conversation in secret, his young Master was finally sounding like a proper Lord Black. “I’m here to sort things out with Ginny, so I have no idea why Hermione is here at all.”

“That’s not fair!” Exclaimed the young witch in question.

“Not fair?” Harry tilted his head to the side, one of his brows raised à la Snape. “What is not fair?” On the outside he retained a perfectly calm visage of a pureblood Lord, on the inside, however, he was close to tears. To him, Hermione being here meant that she chose her side and it was not the one he was on.

It was like second year all over again.

“You’ve been ignoring Ginny and your child, of course, we want to make sure you two make up! If nothing else, think of the baby.”

Harry’s flinch slipped through his mask and it made Hermione’s eyes glint victoriously. She knew all of his buttons after all, or so she thought. “Are you sure this is something I should be talking about with you and not Ginny herself?”

This was the one trait his friend had that has always annoyed Harry- her tendency to push herself into situations where her input wasn’t asked for at all.

“Harry, why are you being so difficult about this? Have you not wanted children all your life?” Here came the big guns. “Well now you have one, so why are you like this? I don’t understand!”

Green eyes narrowed, as he threw her an openly incredulous look. “My child?” He bit out. “I showed you the answer to that question on Sunday. Are you telling me you are incapable of reading now?!”

In a matter of seconds, Hermione seemed to both deflate and puff up. Somehow. “What are you talking about?” While the bushy haired young witch glared at him with incomprehension in her big hazel eyes, Molly seemed to turn sad.

“So you know.” The Weasley Matriarch finally spoke.

“It’s very hard not to when the Tapestry takes up a whole wall at Grimmauld.” He turned to look at Molly. It was quite unlike her to stay quiet for so long. The last time he was here, she told him that the child’s odd coloring was due to some relative on her side of the family. He doubted that then, and he was not quite now either. There was a feeling he got that told him that it was a lie. But now it felt like the plump redhead was just … resigned. If there was one person he did not want to hurt with this situation, it was probably Molly, and the baby of course, the baby was innocent in all this.

Hermione’s head swung around to look at Molly. “Know? Know what?”

Harry spoke with a sigh, he did not want Hermione to start badgering Molly, “That child is not mine, as you would have known had you bothered to actually read the Tapestry when I told you to look at it.”

Hermione gaped. It was a very unattractive expression on her otherwise pretty face. “So what, you would just believe that- that- piece of pureblood propaganda over your own wife?!” She exclaimed. “How could you be so dumb?”

Molly gave her daughter-in-law a long-suffering look and saved Harry from having to field that particular question, “What do you mean by that, Hermione?”

The expression on the younger witch’s face could only be described as betrayed. “You know exactly what I mean, Molly.”

“No, I actually don’t think I do.” A pair of well shaped red eyebrows were raised expectantly. “Please, explain it to us.” Missus Weasley could just feel the numerous misunderstandings floating around and warping the conversation. This was not what she invited Harry over for, but maybe she could help the two friends, who seemed quite estranged at that moment, come to an understanding.

From his place near the fireplace, Harry did his best to suppress a yawn. This would drag out, he just knew it. And he felt too exhausted to care for whatever nonsense was about to come out of Hermione’s mouth. He knew his friend well. As much as she carried on and on about the prejudice of the purebloods against muggleborns, she herself was just as prejudiced against anything and everything that in any way was related to the purebloods. Harry personally became aware soon after the war was over that he really didn't know what exactly it was that he had been fighting for. ‘Against muggleborn oppression’ sounded nice in theory, but if he were to be honest with himself, all he really cared about was surviving.

It may have started as a bid to avenge his parents and punish the one responsible for their death, but over the years he learned that in life things were rarely that black and white. Unbeknownst to himself, he started drifting off and so his head jerked up at the not-so-unexpected sound of his name. Molly seemed rather amused, but Hermione certainly did not appreciate him not paying attention to her.

“I’m sorry, my attention drifted for a moment. These last couple of days have been pretty rough.” He sounded polite and rather contrite. The emotion may have been slightly exaggerated, but it’s not like he said anything that was not true.

“Harry, you know it’s not important at all who your great great uncle or something was. It only matters who you are and what you do in this world. So why do you insist on keeping that thing? For all you know, it’s faulty. You can’t let some piece of outdated fabric ruin your life!”

For a moment Harry recalled his dearly departed nemesis. “There is no dark and light. Only power and how you use it.” He quoted his enemy, staring sadly at Hermione.

“What?” She blinked in confusion. The words were vaguely familiar, but she failed to see the connection to the topic at hand.

“Basically you are saying it doesn’t matter if one’s parents are muggles or magical. If you come from a long respected line or are the first in the family.”

“Y-yes.” The bushy haired witch stuttered. She was looking at her friend as if she had never seen him before.

“Yeah.” The wizard sighed. “That’s just about the same thing as what Voldemort thought about Magic…” He didn’t get to finish his sentence. Instead, he had to reach out and grab Hermione’s hand to stop her from slapping him.

“How dare you compare me to that monster?!” She fumed helplessly, yanking her hand out of his grip.

“And why not?” The man stood up and their faces were suddenly very close as defiant angry hazel eyes glared into a determined pair of tired glittering emerald green orbs.

“He…! He…!” The young witch scrambled for a response. “He murdered your family!”

Slightly to the side, Molly was pale and started shivering. Family fights always affected her a lot, especially now that her family was much smaller than it was supposed to be.

“Yes, he did.” Harry replied calmly. It’s been long enough since the war ended- and let’s be real Kingsley was a great person to talk to about trauma, not that he usually gave his favorite Auror a choice, always insisting on mind healer appointments after each undercover mission. “He murdered my parents and a lot of other people besides just them. Which I already killed him for. But can you actually tell me anything about what he wanted or why he fought? Anything at all that was not propaganda.”

Hermione ground her teeth in obvious frustration, “So what if I can’t? He’s long dead and buried and we are alive. We matter, not him! We can finally build a world without prejudice, and yet you insist on clinging to that ghastly thing.”

She got a small sad and almost disappointed smile in return for her efforts. “You can disagree all you like, Hermione, but my family history is important to me. I wanted to know more about the people I’m related to, what’s so wrong about that?”

“Absolutely nothing, dear.” Said Molly, once again cutting Hermione off. The older witch was relieved that it didn’t look like Harry was very interested in escalating the fight, at least at the moment.

Whatever it was that Hermione was going to respond with, was fated to go unheard however, for at that moment Ginny finally flounced into the room. She looked a bit disheveled with barely visible yet present shadows under her eyes. Harry deduced that motherhood was not agreeing with her all that much.

“Harry!” Squealed the young redhead as she threw herself at her husband.

If he was the same person as he was four years ago, he would have flinched for sure. Even now, all this time later, loud noises easily startled him at times. But this was Ginny, and Ginny had always been eager to touch him. So gradually his instinctive flinching stopped. Exposure was clearly a good teacher.

That said, Harry did have to fight down a rather unpleasant shudder. After the rather unpleasant accusations made by the Goblins, he couldn’t even look at her the same way as before. While the man did not struggle, letting her withdraw on her own, he did not even try to hug her back. In fact, his green eyes became flat as they stayed trained on Molly.

“Harry?” This time there was a questioning note in Ginevra’s voice. “What’s wrong?”

There was a pout forming on her face, her eyes seeming larger than usual, as she stared at her husband. Of course, she knew exactly what the problem was. But until Harry called her out on it, Ginny was determined not to breach the topic herself.

The itch at the back of Harry’s mind that helped him read the room was back. He wasn’t sure if this would be a good thing or not, but during his years as an Auror he’d learned not to ignore his 'gut' feelings. They always gave him good insights. And right now? It was telling him a couple of different things. Hermione, for example, was being super stubborn. Molly was on the fence about something, but there was no way for him to know for sure what the primary reason was. Ginny, on the other hand, seemed much more convoluted in comparison. She seemed genuinely happy that he came, but at the same time whatever her reasons were, something told him they were not good. His wife also seemed resolute about something, and there was also a quiet despair simmering deeply within her. It was, strangely enough, entwined with a sense of muted almost there happiness.

Harry wished he knew how he became aware of these things, why these moments happened, or if there was a way for him to control the phenomenon. After all, he wasn’t very keen on always being aware of what the people around were feeling. That would totally suck.

Though he couldn’t argue that these small insights were not useful, as they certainly were. Taking a deep breath, he placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed the woman away from himself.

“Ginny.” He greeted her, his voice carefully neutral.

She gave him a brilliant smile, “It’s so good that you’re finally here. We missed you.” The smile looked incredibly convincing, but there was something a little bit strained about it. Harry probably wouldn’t have noticed such a minute difference, but his gut feeling was telling him not to trust it.

Luna Lovegood was pacing. This in itself was strange, because the always cheerful Luna rarely showed signs of other emotions, especially negative ones. But at that moment she was clearly agitated.

“Come, dear, have a seat.” Andromeda Tonks called the girl over. “Help me read this book to Teddy; I seem to have misplaced my glasses.”

Luna smiled at the older witch and did as asked after a moment of indecision, which earned her a kind smile in return.

“What has you so wound up?” Asked Andromeda.

Miss Lovegood sighed a little, holding little Teddy close to her, though the child was quickly growing too big for her slight frame to hold him comfortably. “Harry should have returned by now.”

Andy patted the girl on the hand in an effort to soothe her at least a little bit. “Don’t worry, he will return soon enough. This is Harry we are talking about after all.”

Luna’s eyes rose to meet Andromeda’s gaze, a thoughtful frown visible in the silver blue orbs. “Just because he is Harry, doesn’t mean he will always be alright. In fact, him being Harry is what worries me the most. People always assume that ‘oh, it’s Harry, Harry can do it!’ Well it’s not fair. Just because he’s Harry doesn’t mean that he has to always be the one fixing other people’s mistakes.”

“Hermione, stop it already.” Harry was now truly getting annoyed and his famous temper was getting closer and closer to the end of its tether. No matter how well meaning, she just kept drawing things out. “The tapestry was just the confirmation that I needed. The information really came from the Goblins; about both the parentage and the stealing. Yet you would still have me ignore it?”

“You always said you wanted to be a father.” She truly sounded like a broken record. It was kind of sad that the bushy-haired witch hadn’t matured at all since her school years. She was still bullheaded and stubborn to a fault. Once she got something in her head, it was flat out impossible to change her mind.

“Yes, I did and I still do.” Harry admitted with a sigh. “But that won’t happen if I stay with Ginny. Her child, whether she’s willing to admit to it or not, does have a father. But that father isn’t me. So really, me stepping back is doing them a favor so they can be a proper family once I’m out of the picture.” There. He said it. It hurt like a bitch if he was honest, but at that moment he was doing his best to shove the hurt away and keep it from showing on his face. “Kreacher, quit lurking. We’re leaving.”

“As Master wishes.” It didn’t even surprise Harry that the House Elf followed him. He silently took his offered hand and they vanished with a pop, leaving Ginny and Hermione gaping incredulously at the spot where he stood a moment ago, while Molly leaned heavily against the wall, a small warble leaving her mouth.

Once they returned to Grimmauld Place, it was all Harry could do to not shatter right where he stood. He managed to make it up the stairs and to his bedroom. Once his face hit the pillow, however, it was like a dam burst open. He cried for his lost friendship with Hermione. He cried for his ruined marriage. And he definitely cried for his most assuredly ruined relationship with the Weasley family as a whole. He assumed they would all choose Ginny’s side and he couldn’t blame them. She was their family after all.

And he… he was not...

Clutching the pillow to his chest, tears rolling down his cheeks, Harry slowly drifted into blessed unconsciousness.