Together at Last

With a small pop two men appeared in the shadowy orchard, one tall and broad, the other almost a head shorter and thin; both were dressed as fashionable young London Muggles in dark denim and graphic tees. The thinner man had an old backpack with frayed straps over one shoulder. He smiled at his companion. “You sure you’re ready for this?”
“As ready as I can be.” He wrapped his arm around Harry’s waist. “Are you?”
“I’ve done this before.” He shrugged and smiled. “I can handle it.”
“That was a long time ago.” Oliver looked Harry in the eyes. “You’re sure?”
Harry’s smile faded. The scared little boy from under the stairs looked at Oliver. “I can do this. These people are the only real family I have.” He put the smile back on his face. “Besides, I am more afraid of pulling a no show on the Headmistress of Hogwarts!”
Just then a small feathery ball collided with the side of Harry’s head. Harry snatched it from the air instinctively, and then a genuine smile lit his face. “Pig!” He looked at Oliver. It’s Ron’s owl. Harry fumbled for the small roll of parchment on the twittering owl’s leg. He dropped Pig, who whizzed away.
H-
Merlin’s Ass! It’s the ENTIRE family plus guests:
Minister of Magic and partner
Augusta Longbottom (still scary)
Editor of Daily Piece of Shit Prophet
Me and Herm
Geo and Luna
Ginny and Neville
Bill and Fleur
Mom and Dad
Percy and Penelope
Charlie and Vic
Kreacher and Winky have all the kids at Percy’s. Mom says you’re close. Get in here NOW!
R-
Harry looked at Oliver with renewed fear in his eyes. “Fancy a press conference?”
Oliver placed a hand on either side of Harry’s face and leaned his forehead against Harry’s. He softly kissed his nose. “I will walk into that house with you or Apperate to the other side of the country. What ever you want to do.”
Harry leaned all his weight against his newfound old love. “Let’s do it then,” he whispered against Oliver’s chin.
Oliver stepped beside Harry and grasped his hand. “Lead the way.” Harry led the way through the familiar orchard, across a short stretch of meadow and stopped just outside the glow of light surrounding the Burrow’s garden. Oliver squeezed his hand. “We can be in Scotland in about 3 seconds,” he whispered.
Harry squeezed back. “Look at them all.” The family plus guests were congregated in the garden, no room in the Burrow being large enough to accommodate twenty people, most stood in groups, hard to recognize at the distance. The easily recognizable Molly Weasley, Headmistress of Hogwarts and undisputed leader of Veterans of the Order of the Phoenix moved from group to group, stopping briefly with each, talking and occasionally laughing. But in between groups she kept casting glances at the exact spot where Harry and Oliver stood just outside the light. “She knows we are here.”
Oliver too had been tracking Molly with his eyes. “And she hasn’t called out. She’s letting you decide.” He dropped Harry’s hand and wrapped his arm around his waist. “Your call.” Harry leaned into Oliver for a moment then stepped away, grabbed Oliver’s hand and strode forward, pushing the gate open and entering the yard with head held high, all traces of the little boy who lived under the stairs gone.
A stocky witch with brassy hair in a complicated pile of curls on top of her head detached herself from the crowed and hurried to be the first to reach the two men, hand digging in her dragon skin bag. “I’ll be cursed! Harry Potter at last. I didn’t believe you were back. And keeping such renowned company as he always did.” Her hand finally emerged from her bag with quill and parchment. “Give us a quick quote, lads?” She eyed the lovers hopefully. “The boy who conquered the Dark Lord reappears on the arm of Qudditch World Cup winning Keeper, Oliver Wood…”
“Back off,” a familiar voice sounded from behind the Editor. “Or I’ll sack you and put you back in a jar.” Hermione snatched the quill from Rita Skeeter’s fingers. “You’ll print only the Ministry’s official press release on the return of Harry Potter.” Rita glared at her, but kept silent. “Sorry guys.” She tilted her cheek up for a kiss from both men.
Oliver obeyed, but Harry stood still. “What is she doing here?”
“It’s ok Harry. She’s the Editor of the Daily Prophet.” Hermione looked at Rita. “Isn’t that right?”
“Sure, Missy, with the nastiest piece of stuff for a boss.” Harry looked from one woman to the other. “The orbiting moon here owns the Prophet with crazy Xeno Lovegood.”
“Nobody calls my father-in-law crazy but me,” George Weasley joined the group. “Hey ya Harry, Oliver.” He shook hands with both. “You know there are hundreds of “Wood” jokes I could THRUST into the conversation here…”
“But you were just taking Rita to talk to Luna,” Hermione cut in.
“Right, I have all night. And Mom says to get a move on.” He turned and took Rita’s arm. “Come on, you, my wife has an excellent idea for a new feature column.” Rita glared at Hermione one last time, rolled her eyes and allowed herself to be led off by George.
“Hermione Granger!” Harry started. “I don’t know what’s more of a shock. You bought the Daily Prophet or that you hired that venomous cow. How could you?”
“Harry, breathe. You know I love her as much as you do. But deplorable though she may be as a human being, she is a damn good editor.” Harry just stared at her. “Besides, Ron and I, and you, hold the key to keeping her in check. Remember?”
“Anything else you’ve failed to mention over the last week?” Harry asked Hermione.
“Loads, Harry. But right now Molly calls.” Hermione turned and led the way to the main body of the waiting group; Harry hadn’t noticed until she stepped aside that all conversation had stopped and all eyes were on him. Out in front, teary-eyed, arms open wide, stood Molly Weasley. As they neared her, Harry dropped Oliver’s hand and approached her alone, that eleven year old boy dangerously close to the surface again.
She pulled him to her, cradled his head on her shoulder and whispered in his ear, “my missing boy has come home at last.” Harry kept his face hidden in her hair as he suddenly felt the touch of others on his back and shoulders, familiar voices filling his ears.
Arthur Weasley: Harry, my boy!
Ginny Longbottom: It’s about time.
Neville Longbottom: Harry Potter
Luna Weasley: He looks stuck. Your Mother must have ear grabbers in her hair.
George Weasley: I love this woman!
Harry straightened up and smiled, reaching back for Oliver’s hand. “You all remember Oliver Wood.” And hugging and hand shaking resumed all around. When the din had died down, a tall witch in a slightly old fashioned pointed hat stepped forward.
“Potter, you look peaky. Have you been eating?” She held her stern expression for a moment longer then smiled warmly at him. “Welcome home, Harry Potter.”
“Professor McGonagall,” Harry replied.
“You mean Madame Minister,” Percy corrected.
“Harry, she is Minister of Magic,” Hermione hammered home the point.
He looked at Hermione, “Something tells me you have a lot more explaining to do soon.” But he softened the words with a smile.
Dinner followed. Food and more food; conversation across the table, side-to-side and yelled from end to end. Ron kept up a running commentary, filling in the many blanks for Harry. “Charlie and Vic means Victor Krum! Bill and Fleur have two sets of twins. Augusta Longbottom leads the writing world, being praised as “the new Bathilda Bagshot” for her work in progress, “Our Magical Times: One Witches Journey Through the Twentieth Century.” Pomona Sprout is Mrs. Minister of Magic.” As the hours passed the guests, and some of the family began to depart with promises of “our house next” and “next week stop by the office.” Hermione did a rather invasive search of Rita Skeeter before she was allowed to leave.
At last Harry was left with the core group he felt closest too:
Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, George, Luna, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and one remaining guest who clearly only he felt was an outsider, Augusta Longbottom. The conversation took a more intimate turn, a time for questions and revelations. “Neville, your hair?” Harry’s question trailed off.
Neville set his goblet down, ran his hand through his snow-white hair and Ginny put her hand on his shoulder. “It was a year after the Hogwarts battle. A rogue Death Eater had surfaced and was causing a lot of trouble.” He rubbed his nose. “I heard it was Dolohov and figured I owed him one. Ditched Auror try outs, stole a broom and took off to his last know where abouts.”
“My grandson is the first wizard to ever Disaperate at high speed on a broom,” Augusta interjected.
“It’s no big deal, Gran,” Neville told her, pride in his voice. He turned back to Harry. “So I tracked him to this big manor house and well, when it was over, I had this,” he gestured up,” and Magical Law Enforcement collected Dolohov’s remains in a bucket.”
“And he ended up with a job offer,” Ginny added. “Youngest Head of Division the Aurors have ever had.” She kissed his cheek.
“Neville, mate, that is amazing. Congratulations.”
“There is something more, Harry.” Harry’s smile faltered at Ginny’s words. “The Ministry deeded the manor house to us. Seems no one wanted it.”
Harry knew what she was avoiding. “The Riddle House.”
“But they don’t call it that anymore, Harry,” Hermione chimed in, trying to ease the tension. “It’s Godric Hall now.”
“Yeah,” Neville said. “Ginny and I figured since we both had these, it was a fitting name.” Neville pushed both sleeves up past his elbows to reveal a pair of swords tattooed on the inside of each forearm.
“Hey, Harry has Gryffindor’s sword too.” Oliver said.
“Ok, let’s do this the easy way.” Hermione heaved herself to her feet. “Everyone here who has the sword please stand up.” Only Oliver and Augusta Longbottom remained seated. When the extended Weasley family had resumed their seats, Augusta Longbottom stood, her trade mark vulture rocking precariously on hat.
“Harry Potter, there are stories to be told, each one deeply personal and painful to recall. But collectively the shared experience can heal the wounds and help us understand where we have been and where we are headed. That is what “Journey” is about.” She paused and sipped from her goblet. “When you are ready, I will send you a current edition, and ask that you sit with me when you are ready to share.” She sat.
“Here, here, Augusta,” Arthur Weasley raised his goblet. “To the New Wizarding Golden Age.”
“Here, here,” the table echoed.
“And that is enough for tonight,” Molly stood. “We have exhausted this poor boy. It’s bed time for the lot of you.” Mr. Weasley offered and Augusta declined to stay as the rest of the former schoolmates dutifully followed Molly into Harry’s favorite house. Molly called out room assignments to the couples as every one shuffled up the stairs. Harry and Oliver climbed the highest, ending in Ron’s childhood bedroom.
The narrow single bed and camp bed Ron and Harry had used the many times they had shared the room were gone. Instead, a large, plump feather bed, easily big enough for two grown men filled the small room almost wall to wall. Harry waved his wand at the door. Oliver heard a click and a brief hiss as the door sealed. “A little something to make sure no one else in the house hears any sound from this room.” He smiled at Oliver as he slowly started to undress. “Why don’t you climb into this big bed with me and I’ll tell you about some of the dreams I had about you in this room.”
Oliver ripped his clothes off and joined Harry. “I have a better idea.” He pined Harry to the bed. “Why don’t you show me.” He lowered his head and began chewing on Harry’s throat.
Harry rolled on top of Oliver. Oliver ran his hands up Harry’s back then back down to rest on Harry’s firm ass. Harry leaned down and kissed Oliver’s smiling lips. He rocked his hips up and pressed his swelling cock against Harry’s ass. “Ready?” Harry asked Oliver.
“Oh yeah.” Oliver moaned as he felt Harry’s hand close around his hard cock and press it against his ass. Oliver grabbed Harry’s hips and pushed up into his tight ass. Harry arched his back, hands planted firmly on Oliver’s hard pecs. He clenched tightly around Oliver, letting him do all the moving, enjoying the feel of Oliver inside him, under him. He gasped as Oliver drove in harder, hitting his hot spot again. Oliver looked up at Harry’s sweating, smiling face, grabbed his hips more firmly and shot his load into Harry’s ass. When Oliver was panting and still, Harry slowly started to move on his barely softened cock. He rocked himself back and forth, eyes locked on Oliver’s, one hand slowly stroking his own throbbing hard on. As his climax neared his pace quickened and Oliver writhed under him, hands still firmly grasping Harry’s hips. Harry moved faster, hand keeping time with hips until he froze, shooting cum across Oliver’s hard, hairy stomach and chest.
Harry collapsed onto Oliver and nibbled his ear. “To bad there’s no Muggle shower to play in here,” he half spoke, half panted into Oliver’s ear.