The Road You Take Don't Always Lead You Home

Ron woke up slowly, wondering groggily why his pillow seemed to have an elbow. After a moment, however, he remembered what had happened the night before. He opened his eyes completely and blinked up at Harry. Everything was kind of blurry, and Ron suddenly realised that someone had removed his glasses.

He fumbled about on the nightstand and finally picked up the thin gold frames he'd bought about the time he started Moonshine, when he realised it wasn't just boredom or exhaustion blurring the text in his books. As he slid them on his face, he noticed that someone had also removed Harry's glasses, as well as their socks and shoes.

Suppressing a grin, he shook Harry's shoulder. "Harry!"

"Mmm?" Harry blinked awake and squinted at Ron. "Morning, mate."

Ron handed him his glasses. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Happy Christmas, Ron," Harry said, grinning as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "Wonder how late we slept?"

Ron sat up and reached for his alarm clock. "Christ, it's six in the morning."

"Everyone else is probably waiting for us then." Harry stood up. "I'm going to go get dressed. See you downstairs."

Ten minutes later, Ron met Harry on the landing and they continued into the living room. Draco was plugging in the Christmas tree, George lighting the fire, and Kate gently shaking one of her presents.

"Couldn't wait another half-hour?" Ron teased her as they came downstairs.

Kate dropped the present and blushed. "I just wanted to have a feel."

Harry shook his head. "Nobody else up?"

"Er--I think Neville will be up in a minute," George answered.

"What makes you so sure?"

"Dean's in the kitchen."

Three seconds later, Neville tumbled down the stairs. "Do you smell that? Is something burning?" he demanded.

An electronic beeping came from the kitchen; Ron noticed a wisp of smoke trailing under the closed door. "I think so."

Suddenly the kitchen door burst open, spilling waves of thick smoke into the living room, and Dean stumbled out, coughing and waving a cloth. "I think I burnt the eggs," he choked.

"Sister Mary Francis!" Neville uttered the strongest oath in his vocabulary. He threw his hands heavenwards and rolled his eyes, then dashed for the kitchen. After a moment, the smoke vanished and the beeping stopped.

Within half an hour the housemates were settled around the large kitchen table, talking and laughing as they ate their breakfast. Breakfast was the big meal at Aspenloch. Only Dean, who was a humour columnist for the Daily Prophet and did some freelancing on the side, was always home for lunch; Draco, Harry, and Neville often had emergencies crop up that prevented them from getting home for dinner. Breakfast had simply become the big meal of the group.

As Neville's famous Norwegian waffles made another circuit of the table, someone knocked on the front door. "I'll get it," Dean offered, standing. "Someone's just uncharacteristically early for the get-together is all."

He talked to whoever it was in the front hall, and the rest of the household forgot about it until they heard footsteps in the doorway. "Who was it, Dean?" Harry asked, not looking up from the table.

"It's me, Harry."

Harry's head rose sharply. Everyone else looked up too, but on no other face but Harry's was there the same expression. His whole face had lit up; his eyes, which seemed so dark and brooding most of the time, appeared to glow with new light. He rose from his seat, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on the man in the doorway.

"Remus?" he whispered hoarsely. "Is it really you?"

The man was older, more heavily lined, his hair more grey than brown. But the gentle smile on his face was undeniably that of Remus Lupin. He held out an arm to Harry. "Harry," he whispered.

A split second later, Harry had covered the distance from his chair to the door and was hugging Remus tightly. Remus hugged him back, both of them looking like they would never let go of each other. For Ron, the most touching part of the reunion was looking at Harry's face. Harry was crying. Harry Potter, the man who had forgotten how to cry--strong, determined, stoic Harry--wept unashamedly, tears rolling down his cheeks with happiness. Remus was crying too, but somehow this didn't move Ron the way Harry's tears did--probably because he wasn't sure Remus had forgotten how to cry.

Finally, the two separated. Remus smiled fondly at Harry. "What have you people done to the carpets? I swear you shocked me or something."

Harry ran a hand along his jaw. "Sorry, I haven't shaved yet this morning."

Remus frowned slightly. "When did you start shaving?"

"Er...nine years ago, I think. Quite a while, anyway."

"But...you would have only been eight," Remus protested. "No, wait, it's Christmas, isn't it? You would've only been nine."

A different kind of silence had fallen on the group. Harry bit his lip. "Nineteen, Remus. I was nineteen. I turned twenty-eight last July."

Remus suddenly looked strangely frightened. "Twenty-ei--no, that's not possible. How long have I been unconscious?"

"Ten years," Harry said gently. "I'm sorry, Remus."

Remus looked around the table, then sighed. "This is certainly going to take some getting used to."

"Sit down," Neville invited, jumping up and pulling a spare chair up to the table. "Have some breakfast."

"Oh, thanks." Remus sat down gingerly. "Er...what are they?"

"Norwegian waffles, they're really good," Kate said through a mouthful. She swallowed and added, "Use the lingonberry jam, it's the best."

"Thanks, but I'm not really hungry." Remus accepted a glass of milk and added, "Erm...I don't mean to be rude, but who the Billy Shears are you?"

Kate grinned. "Who? Ah, yes, who indeed am I?"

"If you tell me your name is Jeremy Hillary Boob, I'm leaving."

Draco snorted into his coffee. Kate laughed. "My name's Katelynn Bell. I'm a friend of Lisa's from MU."

"Em You?"

"Moonshine University. It's the world's first wizarding university...not too far from here, actually."

Remus nodded thoughtfully. "What are you studying, Katelynn?"

"Nah, call me Kate. I haven't declared my major yet, I've only been there for three years and there's so many I can't decide." Kate nodded at Lisa. "Lisa's a triple major, though--History of Magic, Vocal Music, and Latin."

Lisa blushed as Remus turned to her in surprise. "Oh, come off it, Kate, you know Vocal Music's no trick for me. And I've been so into history for so long that I hardly have to do anything for that major. I only picked Latin so I could have a major that would challenge me. Besides, it's not like I'm going to have any real job prospects when I get out--except maybe historian of some kind. It's Ron and Justin who are going to have the real job prospects."

Justin snorted. "Yeah, I can see me now: 'I have a Liberal Arts degree; do you want fries with that?' Please, count me out of 'real job prospects'. Ron's got the real ones."

Remus turned to Ron in surprise. "What are you majoring in, Ron?"

Ron smiled. "Magizoology. Actually, I'm almost done with my degree--I'll be graduating in June. It's technically a four-year degree, but Hagrid gave us such a good founding in Care of Magical Creatures that I tested out of a whole year of credits."

"Sounds great." Remus turned to Harry. "What about you, Harry? What have you been up to?"

Harry nodded at Neville. "Neville and I are Healers at St. Mungo's."

"I wondered why the nurse said they hadn't let you in because you spent too much time there already."

"I've worked your ward a couple times on rotation." Harry grinned. "Diverse group around here."

Remus smiled at George. "You and Fred still have the joke shop?"

George shook his head. "No, Fred died...complications from whatever hit him during that battle. I sold the shop a few years ago...I'm, er, a Beater for Puddlemere United."

"What about the rest of you?" Remus asked, curious.

"I'm still working at the Ministry," Percy answered, a little sheepishly. "Terry works at Flourish and Blotts, Dean's a freelancer for the Prophet...and, er, I keep forgetting what you do, Draco."

"No, you don't," Draco answered.

"I know, but I just want you to say it."

Draco rolled his eyes in mock exasperation. "I'm an Auror."

"Short, sweet, and to the point," Justin interjected. "What he's not telling you is that he's one of the best."

"Oh, shut up, I am not," Draco protested.

"He is! He's been awarded Order of Merlin, first class, and a White Bumblebee."

Remus looked confused. "A what?"

"Oh, that's right, you wouldn't know. It's--"

Draco grimaced. "It's nothing."

"It is too," Percy insisted. "The White Bumblebee is a medal given in honour of Albus Dumbledore, recognising bravery, talent, going above and beyond the call of duty, concern for your fellow man, and an unusual fondness for socks."

"Well, I'd never seen socks like that before, I thought they were cool," Draco said defensively.

Remus joined in the general laughter. "Sounds like you're doing all right for yourselves."

Neville chuckled and glanced at his watch. "Hey, everyone's going to be here in about an hour and a half. If we're going to open presents we'd better do it now."

Harry and Ron cleared the table as the rest of the group headed into the living room. Once they came in, Neville picked up the first present and read the label. "To Dean from Harry."

Harry explained to Remus, "Lisa read Belles on Their Toes and thought their method of passing out presents was a good one. If we open them one at a time, it gives everyone a chance to enjoy it."

By the time everyone had opened their gifts and thanked everyone else, the guests had begun to arrive. Ron greeted several old friends from Hogwarts and almost began to enjoy himself.

A pretty young woman with dark red hair and curious golden eyes stood with her arm in Terry's, talking easily to Harry. Ron threaded his way through the crowd to them. "You must be Sarah," he said to the young woman.

The woman raised an eyebrow at Terry. "Who's Sarah?"

Ron winced, but Harry and Terry both laughed. "She's just having you on, Ron," Terry told him.

"Oh," Ron said sheepishly.

Sarah laughed too. "So you're Ron. I've seen you around campus."

"Oh, you go to MU?"

Sarah shook her head. "I work for a publishing company as a delivery girl, which is how I met Terry. I deliver to the campus bookstore all the time. Actually, I tried it for a while but I was never that good a student."

Her voice had a slightly unfamiliar lilt to it. "Sarah, are you American?" Harry asked.

"How did you ever guess?" Sarah asked, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. She laughed. "Yes, sir. I'm a Mississippi girl, born and bred. You should hear me when I get going. Ma says my accent's so thick you could cut it with a spoon."

"I've never understood that expression," Terry muttered. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"If something is paper-thin, it's harder to cut," Ron pointed out.

Terry laughed. "You Weasleys and your realm of entirely useless trivia."

"Do you know what the name of Isaac Newton's dog was?" Ron said sweetly.

"Um...Apple?"

"Diamond. That was the first Trivial Pursuit question I ever got."

Sarah laughed. "I'm going to like you people."