The Storm arrives at Harry's House
The night seemed to prepare for the end of the world. Howling wind shook the old elm trees rid of its branches and lashing rainfall hit merciless against the window of Harry’s Victorian old-fashioned sitting room. He hadn’t changed his house much since he inherited Grimmauld Place from Sirius. The well-used maroon velvet couch, brown leather armchairs and countless dusty book regals formed a run-down but still noble ambience that seemed to dwell in the last century.
Most of his friends had taken one look into his house, coughed from the dust and recommended Harry to do some renovations. However, Harry would have no idea to what he should change his furniture and no reason to do so. And, for that matter, the furniture reminded him of Sirius, making him feel closer to his late godfather.
Looking out of the window into the pitch-black stormy light, only illuminated by a single street lantern, Harry signed heavily trying to shake that melancholy feeling that had seem to set on him this night. It was late but Harry knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, his sleep still marred by night terrors. So he stayed up until he couldn’t possibly keep his eyes open anymore, hoping the exhaustion keeping him from his fitful dreams. The black-haired man wore a battered light blue jeans, bare feet and a white shirt, still not caring much about his wardrobe, at least when he was at home. The couch table was covered in stacks of documents from his work.
However, as the youngest Minister of Magic, his work robes were always immaculate. He had entered the job feeling like he had to prove himself. So he had made sure he would always appear dressed-up in professional and sleek robes and worked night and day to prove to the world he was not only getting by on his old fame. Plus, he wanted to make sure that he overhauled the old governance structures so that a rise of a Dark Wizard as a despot would never be possible again. But his biggest priority was the provision of the victims and relatives of the war, so he established orphanages, enacted just reparations and mandated muggleborn-inclusive kindergartens. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but deep down he knew, he worked so hard to keep from thinking about the past…
But lately his work and involvement in charity projects as well as his social commitments had been less and less able to distract him from the loneliness he was feeling deep down. Since things with Ginny hadn’t worked out, which only truly surprised Molly, he hadn’t managed to advance more to anything but flings. Harry had come to appreciate the influence for the good he could yield due to his fame, but it didn’t make up for lack of suitable partners. He just wanted to find anyone who wouldn’t see him as this heroic Chosen One but for what he really was. But all men and women who Harry met worshipped him as a hero. While his friends had found their partners, getting married and having adorable babies, Harry who had wanted nothing more in his life than a loving family, was alone again.
Harry rubbed his tired eyes and went back to the couch. He was about to sit down to resume his work but was startled by an angry hiss. Herbert, his grey fuzzy kneazle had cuddled up comfortably in his sleep without the slightest intention to move. Harry gave the cat a stroke and sat down on the small space left for him. Herbert had a way to always get Harry adhere to his wishes.
The dark-haired man was just about the continue reading the policy proposal against thievery of Occamy Eggs when a felt his wards penetrated, shortly followed by a frantic knocking on the front door. He had no idea who that could be and tried to come up with whom his wards would allow inside. Hermione and Ron were on holidays out of the country and few other people even knew where he lived.
The knocking turned even more intense as Harry stayed seated in his living room, waiting for his House Elf to turn down the unwanted intruder.
Kreacher was the first to arrive at the door. Opening the door, a figure covered by a large black hooded cloak appeared. Behind them, the rain was hissing as it poured down just as lightening stroke, briefly illuminating the tar-black sky and the dark clouds.
As soon as Harry caught the voice hall through the doorway, he knew who it was. It was a voice he still heard in is dreams and one he would never forget. A voice he loved and hated in equal parts.
“Please, Harry, let me in”, her voice heavy with desperation. The thunder’s rumbled pierced through the night.
“Master wishes not to be consulted at this hour. He is only available at appointment”, the elf lectured smugly.
“Is he here?”
“Kreacher does not have this knowledge nor would he share this information with stangers”, giving her a stern look and shutting the door.
She caught it, not giving up. “Please, just tell him (Y/N) is here. Please. Tell him.”
But Harry had already quickly risen by the first sound of her voice and arrived now at his entrance door.
He looked at the figure before him in confusion and surprise. Shocked beyond words, he stammered only “(Y/N)”.
She had lifted her hood, so he could see her [your haircolor] hair, disheveled and soaked in rain just as the rest of her. Her [your eyecolor] eyes still mesmerizing but with a deep desperation staring at him. The rest of her body was still covered in the rest of the cloak but he could see it trembling. Harry didn’t remember her being that small, her head barely reaching his neck, but then he wasn’t that small boy anymore, he had grown to stand taller than most people.
“Please, listen, I know you hate me, and you have no reason to trust me, but I need your help. We need your help,” she begged.
Harry was confused who she meant but then she opened her cloak a bit, reveling a little boy, clutched to her chest, looking him fearful in his eyes.
Harry tried to consider, tried to remember how she betrayed him but seeing her in the blizzard, clutching the small child moved something in him. His body moved on his own accords and he couldn’t help but nod her in. It occurred to him later that he was uncharacteristically careless, not having cast any revelation charm or at least asking her to give up her wand. But he was too stunned and could only follow as she made her way to the sitting room. Of course, she remembered the way.
She carefully laid the boy on the couch, cast a drying charm and covered him with a blanked. She pressed a kiss to his cheek and the boy seemed to fall asleep instantly. Harry stood in the doorway and watched, trying to make sense of the situation. What should he say?
“Do you need, aehm, something to drink?” When her eyes met his, he gulped, feeling a familiar ache building up in his body again. One he hasn’t felt in ages.
She didn’t waste any time with small talk. “They’ll come for us.”
“Who is following you, from whom are you running away?”, Harry asked.
“Can you protect him?”, she ignored his question.
“What?”, he was startled by the question.
“Look, I am sorry to be here but they were just so many and they followed us everywhere. I didn’t know where else to go. Where else we would be safe”, she took a step towards him, looking at him intensely.
Now standing in front of him she whispered, “Please. Please, Harry.”
Suddenly there were yells outside and Harry felt his wards being attacked. His instincts kicked in. But before he went to action, he grabbed her arm. “Who are they? What do they want from you?”
“I don’t really know. But they want to kill us.”
“You don’t know? I don’t believe you!” Harry thought about the last time he saw her and wondered if it all was a ruse.
Another spell hit his wards with a loud bang.
She flinched. The man furrowed his brows, staring at her for a second, considering.
He knows her. At least she did. And for all her flaws, she would never put a small child intentionally in danger to play any tricks. But even if it was a trick, it couldn’t hurt to take down the people attacking his house. He had made his decision.
“Wait here”, he ordered and made his way to the front door again. This time he arrived before Kreacher who appeared vastly upset by the continued nighttime intrusions. “I’ll take her of it”, he muttered to the elf before he opened the entrance door, clutching his wand tight.
The Saviour of the Wizarding World made out the men on the street, targeting his house with a myriad of spells, trying to get through his wards. He stepped out into the spitting rain, still barefoot but not caring, solely focused on the men. Walking toward the street he stepped out of his wards and immediately fired against the first attacker. It was a quick duel, the men, even though skilled fighters, not standing a chance against Harry’s powerful magic. With a handful of spells they realized their position, earning some nasty flesh wounds on the way, and disapparated.
Harry Potter turned back to his London town house, now feeling the cold of his bare feet hitting the ground. As he entered, he wandlessly spelled himself dry, closing the door to the violent thunderstorm outside and made his way to his ex-lover and her child.