The Auror's Duty: The Resurrected Mr. Potter
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"No," breathed Ginny, as she crumpled to the ground, tears flowing from her eyes, unbidden and unwanted. "You died, I saw you die, I know you died..." Words continued to escape her, flowing and stopping, reflecting the utter horror and confusion that was her state of mind. Her heart silenced itself within her chest, and, for one moment, she could not breathe, shocked beyond unconscious thought.
The brown hair had changed to raven, the slight wrinkles and age lines softened, and the muddy brown eyes had been replaced by the irrepressible green of a man who had once been her lover. It was still hard to breathe, as she took in his eyes, and his face, and the chest that was still obviously breathing.
"I was never the best at Charms," he commented ruefully, before pulling himself up from the floor.
"Charms?" croaked Ginny, still slumped against the couch, unable to support her own weight. "Harry?"
He sighed, and reached a strong, calloused hand down to her. Pulling her up, he smiled, but there was no real emotion behind it, a facade he wore for the benefit of no one, for they both knew that it was not real. He motioned, once again, to the table before them. She sat down before him, silent. Her tears sat upon her cheeks, damp and untouched, solid reminders to Harry of what he had done.
He waited for her to start. He knew her questions; he had imagined them himself, on nights of cold and on days of rain, when thoughts of futures long lost ran rampant through his mind. She looked up from her hands, and opened her mouth to speak.
"Yo-you have a son?" Her voice was barely a whisper, but it felt like she had shouted it into his ear.
Surprise overtook him, and he almost answered differently, but he recovered his thoughts and knew what he had to say. "I-yes, I do, Ginny."
A sob escaped her, and she was livid with self-rage at letting her guarded emotions reveal themselves so easily, after so long. "I saw you die," she stated simply, changing the subject to something that she might be able to handle, a truth that she might be able to grasp.
"No, Ginny, you didn't. You saw Voldemort die, and you saw me fall to the ground, and I disappeared. I had a Portkey, Ginny. I knew from the beginning that I couldn't stay." His eyes drifted to the floor once more, and thought she could see those emerald orbs glisten before they moved out of her sight.
"You knew you were leaving, and didn't tell me? You never thought of telling me?" Her emotions grew stronger, but her voice never wavered, still calm and still deadly whispered, electric in the air between them.
"I couldn't stay," he repeated simply, and Ginny almost broke her whisper to unleash her anger, but the faint look in his eyes and the sorrow that had appeared on his face made her stop, for the moment. There were so many secrets between them, so many years of life she did not know of, and she knew that they weren't all for her to hear.
"You lived as a Muggle for all these years?"
He nodded.
She wiped away her infernal tears, getting rid of the evidence of her weakness. "Why this exile, Harry? Why didn't you come home?"
His hands were clutching the table again, white and tense, and a fleeting sensation of pain and fear swept over her. Harry finally answered moments later, as his grip weakened, and he relaxed just a little.
"I'm not who I was, Ginny. I'm no hero."
She didn't reply; folding her hands together, she tried to stop them from shaking as she absorbed everything. He stared at her, silent but concerned, and more than a bit apprehensive and nervous. He'd never expected that someone would find him, even with his son attending Hogwarts. He was always a step ahead, always waiting and watching for the signs that would indicate that someone was on to him. And Ginny had just arrived here, out of the blue, the bearer of life-shattering news.
"Ginny?" Now he whispered her name, as she stared down at her polished nails, her pale hands. She looked up, and there was a sudden detachment in her eyes, as the moisture faded from her eyes. All sign of emotion left her, as she adopted her neutral disguise. She stood up from the table.
"If I'm to catch those responsible for your son's kidnapping, I have to leave now. I promise you, I will do my best to find Alex."
Harry jumped back from the table, surprised and, strangely, angry. "What? You're leaving? Just like that?" The irony of his statement was not lost on him, and he cringed inwardly, just a little.
She nodded coldly, and to confirm her statement, returned back to the doorway once again.
He ran across the small room and pressed his hand against the door, keeping it shut. "By yourself? You're going to find Alex by yourself?"
"I'm an Auror, Harry, not a child. I can handle myself."
At this, he moved his hand off the door and grabbed her arm, just as she pulled on the doorknob. She turned, annoyed, and yanked his hand off of her arm. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Harry remarked the same strength, the same passion, of the Ginny that he had once known. Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts away.
"Do you know who you're dealing with? The people who took Alex aren't just your run-of-the-mill wizards!"
Suspicion gleamed in Ginny's eyes. "You know who took your son?"
"I might." And now, Harry drew himself up, feeling once again that familiar drive, that familiar determination. "I'm coming with you." He moved to a nearby chair and grabbed his jacket.
"What?" exclaimed Ginny. "No, you can't! You're not an Auror, you're not prepared to do this!"
"He's my son," answered Harry, though so quietly it was whisper in the air where Ginny had yelled.
A silence followed, and there was a strange tension between them, as Ginny battled within herself the implications of each choice. "Fine," stated Ginny roughly. "Let's go." And with that, she walked briskly over the threshold, as the newly resurrected Mr. Potter followed close behind.
The Auror's Duty by Aelan Greenleaf
Chapter Notes: Also, as requested, a small timeline: Alex is thirteen (Third year student); Harry and Ginny are in their early thirties (30, 31, 32). It's a fluid age because I want to leave room for everyone to form their own theories about when the Final Battle took place.