Operation Homeward (A Harry Potter Fanfiction)

Nine

Update for May 31 through June 7.

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Dinner was quiet and tense. Normally, Albus wouldn't have complained—he preferred a quieter atmosphere, anyway, compared to the chaotic, irritating one that was the Potter norm. But now, knowing the reason the room itself seemed to be on edge, Albus begrudgingly admitted to himself that he missed the mayhem. Perhaps it would've distracted him from the hole that had appeared in his gut.

Instead, he found himself examining the dinner table in a vain attempt to distract himself. James (who was picking at his spaghetti more than eating it) and Lily (who was tracing the cracks in the wooden table) seemed to be having similar problems, unable to pull their minds away from the children's book currently hidden up in Lily's room.

Albus found his eyes wandering over to the empty chair beside him.

An image of Harry Potter gripping the back of that chair, his head lowered in defeat, flashed in his mind.

Albus squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the memory away, nausea filling that yawning pit in his belly.

"Al?"

Albus whipped his head in the direction of the question. Ginny. His mother.

"You okay?" she asked, her face tight with worry.

Albus nodded stiffly. They all knew it was a lie—none of them were simply "okay" right now—but Ginny let it be. If he wanted to talk, he would.

Suddenly, a familiar crackling noise echoed from the living room, gathering the attention of all four of them.

"Hello?" called a familiar voice. "Ginny? Nephews and niece?"

Ginny's brown eyes went round and wide as she stood from her chair, heading for the living room. "Ron?"

Sure enough, Ron Weasley met her halfway to the door. "Were you all having dinner? Sorry to interrupt. I only came to say hello."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You're not sorry at all, you oaf. You knew it was dinnertime. You came for food."

Whether this was entirely true or not, Ron didn't seem to deny this. He instead raised a brow at her. "Well, if that's an offer ..."

Lily giggled as Ginny crossed her arms and raised a brow. "Help yourself. But if Hermione comes asking where you've been, I'm going to tell her the truth."

Ron winced. "Better you than me. She made this new dinner tonight—something stew, I don't bloody know—and it tastes like troll piss. I came here to be saved."

James was snickering now, and Ginny glared daggers at the both of them. "Language," she warned.

"Come on, Ginny," Ron said, pulling out a plate from the cabinet and helping himself to pasta, "they're all teenagers now. Surely they've heard worse at school."

"Still," Ginny huffed, sitting back down at her seat, "it's a bad habit."

Ron raised a brow, his mouth somehow already full before he even sat down. "If I recall correctly, you were and are way worse. You know what that means?"