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Author: Roxy Story: The Way Home Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 9 Words: 14,061
Harry stopped his trek, gasping for breath. After being locked in a dank cell for so long, it was hard for him to breathe. He was overcome with a coughing fit and he pressed his hand against a tree for support. His lungs were on fire and he hadn’t even been running this time. Sure his pace was fast, but he was still walking. When his coughing subsided, he pushed himself up again and continued. His mind was racing with plans for when he arrived home. He was going to put stronger wards and alarms around their cottage. He wasn’t going to be run off so easily. He was going to expand them as well, making them overlap the Burrow and reach all the way to the town. He was going to reinforce them with discouraged Ministry spells and hire Fred and George to set up traps for anyone not in their inner circle. He was not going to be run off. It was his home, his first home, his last home. He wasn’t going to be scared away. Someone is watching the house right now, he thought, remembering what Lucius had taunted him about during his imprisonment. He had someone stationed by his house at all times, he even checked up on Ginny on several occasions, telling Harry in detail the color knickers his wife was wearing, the way her hair fell softly down her back, how she walked out of the bathroom in a towel before dropping it to the floor to dress for the night, the birthmark on her right hip, only visible to him. He cast the thought of Lucius Malfoy spying on his naked wife aside. He needed to focus. Most likely, they would have guards all around the house, knowing Harry would make his way back. He had to come up with a plan to get her out without endangering her. He should probably evacuate the Burrow as well, just in case, until he could send Tonks and some Aurors to comb through it. How, though, could he get the message to them without raising outside suspicions? He needed his damn wand. Then he could cast a Disillusionment Charm on himself and sneak inside his house. A small village was nearing; he could hear the sounds of automobiles on a cobblestone street. The sounds were distinctive. Dusk was fast approaching and he needed to rest. His chest was on fire; his head was pounding from the lump he had received a couple of days prior on the rocks. He had twisted his ankle in a rabbit’s burrow and it was swelling from the constant pressure of walking. He was exhausted, having not slept in two days and not well before that. The memory of Draco’s prone body filtered through his nightmares, making it hard for him to sleep more than a couple of hours or so. He found an old, full tree and climbed the branches, wedging himself between two of them and the trunk, creating some support about ten feet up the tree. For once, he was thankful for all those years of Dudley and the fat bulldog, Ripper. They had taught him how to climb a tree swiftly. The moment he got settled, a pair of boys walked right under him. “I could have sworn I saw someone,” one of them, the oldest, said. He had a rifle strung over his shoulder with a strap. “Dad told me I can shoot anyone that trespasses again. He’s sick of the old Hawkley kids traipsing through our land.” “How come you always get all the fun? Why won’t Dad let me shoot anyone?” “You’re too young, that’s why.” Harry pressed himself against the tree, willing himself to blend in with it. He knew that with his dirty clothing, it was more of a possibility. His white T-shirt was now grungy gray and brown with dirt and dried blood. His foot, in an effort to force himself to be part of the tree, hit a small, rotted branch, sending it plummeting to the ground feet from the boys. Harry held his breath, his eyes closed tightly, childishly hoping that if he couldn’t see them maybe they couldn’t see him either. “Hey, you up there!” the oldest boy called, aiming his rifle. “Come down slowly and keep your hands where I can see them.” Harry slowly obeyed, dropping from the lowest branch and cringing when his sore ankle turned. He swayed dangerously, dizziness and nausea overcoming him and he stumbled back against the tree. When he regained his balance, he raised his hands in surrender. “I didn’t mean to be on your property, I’m sorry.” Harry knew his dress and lack of hygiene was probably disturbing to the boys, but at the moment, he was just trying to prevent himself from being shot. “What business do you have in these parts?” the youngest asked, putting on the same stern face as his brother. “I’m trying to get back to Ottery St. Catchpole in Devon. I’m trying to get home.” “You’re a long way away from Devon, why are you here?” Harry let out a deep breath. He needed to tell them or else for sure the trigger-happy boy would put a bullet in his gut. “I was captured and held for three months. I escaped and I’m just trying to get home.” “DAMIEN, TREVOR,” a woman’s voice called. “TIME FOR SUPPER!” Harry’s stomach growled at the sound of the word. He hadn’t eaten much in days. “COMING, MUM!” the oldest called. He lowered his rifle. “My mum’s got a thing for strays. It’s how we ended up with my sister. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind another one for a few days. You look like you haven’t eaten in ages. Come on,” he waved him on and led Harry to the house at the edge of town, the youngest boy trailing behind them. “I’m Trevor,” the youngest said, his voice coming from right beside Harry, startling him. “Harry.” “He’s Damien.” He jerked his pudgy thumb in the direction of the boy in front, leading the way. After a short, but painful walk for Harry, they were entering a small house just outside the wooded area. “Mum!” Damien called, setting his rifle by the door. Trevor ran through, seating himself at the table and digging into the piles of food. An elderly woman with curly, gray hair came bustling into the room; she stopped when she caught sight of Harry. “Oh heavens,” she gasped. Her eyes grew wide in either astonishment or disgust, Harry wasn’t sure which, but he felt uncomfortable under her scrutinizing gaze. “Mum, this is Harry. He says he had been kidnapped, but escaped. He needs to get home to Devon and he needs some food,” Damien explained, walking around her and joining the small family around the large table. If it was possible, the woman’s eyes grew larger at the announcement. “Holy cricket. Harry Potter?” Her voice was a low whisper as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure her kids didn’t hear. Harry’s eyes locked with hers. How did she know him? “Oh, my, it is you, isn’t it? Oh dear, come, sit, eat. You poor dear, you look like you’re starving! The name’s Rachel, by the way.” She pulled on his arm, bringing him to the table. “Er… do you have somewhere I can wash up?” he asked uncomfortably. He knew he couldn’t have smelled pleasant at all. He had been walking and running for twelve days with only brief stops at a stream or pond to wash the grime off his face and arms. “Oh, yes, dear. Right through that door.” Rachel pointed to a small door just off the dining room and he went in to it. The clean water felt like heaven on his dirty skin. He lathered up some soap and washed the dirt away. The smell of lavender overwhelmed him. It was the fragrance of Ginny’s shampoo. He was hit with a strong sense of longing and anguish. He missed her. He needed her. He didn’t feel complete without her. No matter what had happened to their baby, he needed to be there for Ginny to comfort her with the loss. She couldn’t be holding up well at all without him and after losing their baby. It had been far too long since he had been taken. He wiped the wetness off his face with a hand towel, then left the loo, rejoining the family in the dining room. “Thank you,” he muttered, taking an available seat across from Rachel. “Not a problem, dear. Here, eat up.” She passed him a plate piled high with food: corn, potatoes, roasted chicken, beans and a salad. He was starving and without another word, he tucked in, savoring every bite. He was silent throughout the meal, feeding his grumbling stomach. The young blonde girl sitting farthest from him across the table and at the end, near the empty seat at the head, was engaging Trevor in light conversation about what she had done all day. The boy, who couldn’t have been more than 14, was grunting in annoyance at the frivolous girlie chatter. Damien, beside him, remained quiet, ripping apart pieces of rolls and throwing them at his plate after his mother told him his father was working late. Rachel kept tossing looks at Harry, but thankfully, if he kept his eyes on his plate, he could pretend he didn’t notice. After dinner, Rachel ordered the three children to clean the crockery. She led Harry to a room off a narrow hallway at the front of the small house. She grabbed a towel from the linen closet. “You’re about Damien’s size. Here,” she said, handing him a pair of jeans and a T-shirt she had retrieved from a trunk. “The loo’s right here.” She waved her arm at the open door and gently pushed him inside it. “When you’re finished, I’ve got something you can take for that leg. You’ll be staying here tonight, so don’t even object. I’ll try to make arrangements to get you home as soon as possible.” “Thank you,” Harry whispered. Before he could help himself he asked, “Are you a witch?” Rachel smiled warmly. “Once upon a time. My family is more important to me and there are so many children out there who need my help. I gave that life up and asked the Ministry to strip my magic.” Not knowing what to say, Harry just nodded before disappearing into the bathroom. When he stepped out of the shower, he felt a million times better. The water had run dirt black for a while under him when it first hit his aching muscles, but soon ran clear. He had been in there a long time, just savoring the feel of the heat soothing the knots he felt in his neck and shoulders. He left the room dressed in a pair of loose fitting jeans, not quite as big as what he had worn when living with the Dursleys, but with his malnourishment in the past three months, Damien’s clothing fit him big as well. His ankle was still throbbing painfully and it was a swollen purplish red. Maybe he had done more than twist it. He wondered if it was fractured. His hair had hurt to wash. The mass of dirty tangles and the large bump on his head made it hard to lather in the shampoo, but he did. He felt exhausted now that he was comfortable. “My, someone looks better,” Rachel said as he entered the family room where they were all gathered around a television set. “Come, lie down. I’m afraid I only have the couch to spare. I’ll get you a glass of water and some medication for that leg.” She patted the couch where she was sitting. A blanket and pillow were folded together on one end. She pulled the pillow out of the blanket, laying it on the couch. He obeyed her orders and cringed when the ache in his lower back increased. She found another pillow and elevated his swollen ankle before running off, returning a second later with a bottle of pills. “Take this, it’ll help with the pain and hopefully the swelling as well. Tomorrow, I’ll speak to some of my friends here and see what we can do to get you home, okay?” He nodded slowly, drinking the pills down with some water. His eyes drooped closed immediately and he felt Rachel cover him with the blanket. His dreams that night were kept at bay by the sheer physical and emotional exhaustion he was experiencing. When he awoke, he felt well rested. His head no longer hurt, his ankle wasn’t throbbing. The small girl, Danielle, was standing over him watching him curiously. She smiled when she saw his eyes open. “Glasses?” she asked, handing them to him with her small hand. “I thought you were dead.” “Why would I be dead?” he asked in a raspy voice. His stomach growled in ravishing hunger and he knew after that last meal, his stomach was craving more. Rachel cooked almost as well as Mrs Weasley. “You’ve been asleep for three days. Mum said not to wake you. How’d you get that scar?” She pointed up at his forehead. His eyes widened in shock. He’d been asleep for that long? He ignored the last question. “I’ve been asleep for three days?” He had to make sure he had heard right. “Yep. Mum kept checking to make sure you were still breathing. How do you not snore? Damien and Trevor snore like they’ve got blow horns in their throats. Breakfast just finished, but I’m sure Mum will make some more for you.” “Thanks,” he whispered as she trotted away. He swung his legs over the side of the couch and stood up, stretching his disused muscles. He was still a little sore, but not nearly as bad as he had been earlier. He actually felt really good for a change. He walked to the kitchen, yawning as he walked in the door. “Good morning, Harry. I was wondering when you would wake up. Here’s some breakfast, I hope you don’t mind cereal.” Rachel placed a bowl, a box of cereal and a milk bottle in front of him. “No, this is fine, thank you.” He sat and poured the cereal and milk into the bowl. Rachel sat across from him. “I spoke with one of my friends around here. She can take you into Leeds to the coach station. From there, you can get to London. That’s all I can afford and I’m sure once you get there, you can get to Diagon Alley or the Ministry or wherever.” “I’ll pay you back once I get there.” “Nonsense. There’s no need, this is what I do. I help children find their way back home. Shall I tell her you’d like to go today?” “Yes, please. I’d appreciate it.” “All right, dear. You eat up then shower. I laid out some clothing for you on the back of the sofa and when you’re ready, I’ll bring you to my friend.” Rachel patted his arm when she passed by him and out the dining room door. He felt like his heart was going to explode in happiness. He was going home! He was going to get to see Ginny again, get to hold her tight and kiss her neck. The best part was that Rachel had just inadvertently solved his dilemma of getting to Ginny without Malfoy or Snape knowing. He was going home! Two hours later, he was sitting in the backseat of a small car. The woman in front, Cassandra, was speaking animatedly to Rachel. Little Danielle was sitting beside him chatting as well. They had decided a shopping excursion was needed in Leeds that day. Cassandra needed some new clothing for church and decided she wanted Rachel and Danielle’s opinion. Harry had tuned out their chatter, which sounded an awful lot like the gossiping between Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil back in Hogwarts. Instead, he rested his head on his hand and stared out the window as he had done with the Dursleys for so many years. His mind was racing with thoughts of Ginny. He had already planned out what he was going to do when he arrived in London. He was going to go to the Leaky Cauldron and get Tom to open the wall into Diagon Alley. From there, he was going to go straight to the twins' shop and have them bring her to him; it was less risky that way. They would meet in the twins' flat above their shop. His heart was beating feverishly just thinking about their meeting. He couldn’t wait.
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