Home Sweet Home ch.41 (Patreon)

Harry was the last to get up the next morning. He went downstairs, drawn by the smell of pancakes and bacon, and the sound of morning chatter. His mother and Narcissa were in the kitchen, while Daphne and Astoria were already seated at the dining table.

"Good morning, sisters," he said.

"Good morning, Harryy-kun," Daphne replied.

"Good morning," Astoria said, standing up to give him a big hug. He pulled her close and leaned back, lifting her off the ground for a moment.

"Mom says the power is back on," Daphne announced. "Finally."

"I thought it was nice staying here," Astoria said. "Better than a motel."

"I had a good time too." Harry stifled a smile and let go of Astoria. He began piling pancakes and bacon onto his plate and sat down to eat breakfast.

Bellatrix walked into the dining room, still wearing the same nightshirt, which had at least one stain from Harry’s activities the previous night. Her eyes met his for a moment before she looked away. Harry felt his face heat up and wondered if his mother might have second thoughts about what had happened between them in the light of day.

"Good morning, Harry," she said, still not looking directly at him. "Did one of your sisters tell you the news yet?"

"The power's back," he replied. "No more fun and games."

"Fun and games?" Daphne asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing," Bellatrix said a bit too smoothly. "I’m sure we’ll all be happy not to be bumping into each other at odd hours of the night anymore."

"I can’t apologize enough!" Narcissa said, approaching Bellatrix. "Next time you visit with your family, I promise all the guest rooms will be functional."

She leaned in to whisper something in Bellatrix’s ear. Harry watched as his mother’s face lit up, and she playfully patted Narcissa’s shoulder with feigned annoyance.

"But you’re still coming to my party tonight, right?" Narcissa asked. "That was part of our agreement."

"What agreement?" Daphne asked.

Bellatrix sighed and shook her head, but she didn’t avoid the question. "Narcissa wanted me to attend a party she’s hosting tonight. I agreed because I assumed we’d still be here when we talked about staying until the power came back on."

"And you’re still going?" Narcissa asked.

"I’m still going," Bellatrix confirmed.

"What kind of party is it exactly?" Harry asked.

"It doesn’t matter," Bellatrix said. "I doubt any of you would be pleased no matter what it is."

"Oh, I’m not so sure," Narcissa smiled at Harry. "But of course, it’s your mother’s decision."

The rest of the morning passed in a rush. Harry quickly finished eating and packed up the things he had brought with him. His mother reminded him he still had church service, which was annoying but tolerable. He grabbed his belongings to load them into the car and take them home later that day when Narcissa knocked on the already open door.

"It was nice hosting you and your family, Harry," Narcissa said. "I hope it wasn’t too confusing for you."

"Not in the least." He smiled and crossed his arms, recalling how close he had come to having sex with her the previous night. "It’s a shame I have to miss your party."

"I couldn’t agree more," Narcissa said. "It’s a masquerade party too. More fun with Halloween masks than artistic. I had to be very careful about who I invited. Anyone in a mask could show up and get in without us knowing."

"That’s an interesting problem." His smile widened as he slung his bag over his shoulder.

He met his mother and sisters at the car and loaded into the back seat next to Astoria. Daphne sat up front, and the whole family waved to Narcissa as they drove down the long driveway.

"She was really cool to let us stay with her," Astoria said.

"Yes, she was." Bellatrix’s voice seemed to contradict her words. "She’s a good friend."

"I’m so ready to go home," Daphne said. "Astoria kept thrashing in her sleep, and I woke up fifty times a night."

"You kept stealing the blankets," Astoria retorted.

"That always happens when you share a bed, not that you’d know," Daphne said. "I bet it was the same with you and Harry, right, Mom?"

"Everything was fine," Bellatrix said a bit too quickly. "We both slept well. No wrestling for blankets."

For a few seconds, no one said anything. Harry frowned, feeling the shame creeping up again. He was also a bit annoyed to find out his mother’s poker face was apparently worse than either of his sisters’.

He was lost in thought when Bellatrix turned towards Astoria’s school and his community service.

"I’d rather go straight home," he said.

"If you hadn’t taken the path of crime, you could have, sir," Bellatrix said. "Don’t worry. It’ll be over soon."

She smiled at him in the rearview mirror as she parked in the church driveway.

"Good luck, Harry," Astoria said.

"Yeah." Daphne gave him an encouraging and slightly guilty smile. "You’ll get through it."

"I will. Honestly, it’s not so bad."

He waved at the car and headed into the church.

Harry appreciated the quiet of the church much more than he had expected as he walked in through the front. He wasn’t sure what his community service would involve after Father Patrick’s fall the previous day, but he was open to it. His previous penance had been laborious but ultimately bearable.

He found the priest in the back of the church, sitting at his desk. Father Patrick sighed as Harry entered the room, but it wasn’t a frustrated sigh.

"Just in time," Father Patrick said. "Start by bringing me the church logbook. It should be by the door."

"The church has a logbook?"

"Only for certain events."

Harry nodded and went to retrieve it. The fact that the priest sent him to get it likely indicated that his sprained ankle was still bothering him. He found the logbook and brought it to the office.

"Thank you," Father Patrick said.

There was a moment of silence as Harry stood there while the older man flipped through the pages.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"Take a walk around the church," Father Patrick said. "See if anything needs cleaning."

Harry made the slowest and most thorough tour he could manage, suspecting that the priest would come up with new tasks for him as soon as he finished. Besides a small amount of dirt near the entrance, which he was sure he had tracked in himself, Harry found nothing in the church that needed cleaning.

"I’m done," he said upon his return.

"Good." Father Patrick closed the logbook. "Yes, you’ve cleaned the church. There’s not much else to do today. Perhaps it’s time for you to cleanse your soul."

Harry chuckled but slowly realized that the old man was serious. "Alright. How would I do that?"

"Help me up."

He offered an arm to the priest as they walked across the church. Only when they reached a small set of doors in the corner, which he hadn’t paid much attention to before, did Harry realize what Father Patrick meant.

"You want me to confess my sins or something?" he asked.

"I do."

Harry grimaced. "I have a feeling you already noticed this, but I’m not the religious type. I’m not sure I’ll be able to play my part in taking this seriously."

"Well, I think you might be surprised. I’m not asking you to confess the details of your legal trouble, Harry. I have a distinct sense that there’s a burden on your shoulders beyond that. Set aside any legal or religious concerns and talk to me as an anonymous friend who promises to never share any of your shames or secrets."

Harry sighed, but he suspected he didn’t have much choice. "Alright, I’ll do it."

He took a seat on one side of the confessional, closing the sliding door behind him. The interior was dark and stuffy, small but not claustrophobic. There was a distinct sense of ritual in the process that he found hard to resist. He took a deep breath, wondering if perhaps there were indeed sins weighing on his soul.

Again, he wasn’t a religious person, but he had noticed an aspect of his recent decisions with his family that made him question his conscience. He thought about how his relationship with Astoria had turned into a dirty, sexual mess. He thought about how his relationship with Daphne had also turned into a dirty, sexual mess, with the addition of blackmail and shoplifting.

And then there was his mother. The scene from dinner the previous evening was burned into his mind, a hot and tangled memory now clinging to the times he had brushed up against her in bed, with only a towel between them. She had allowed him so much, and he had no idea whether it was due to motherly love and the flexibility that came with it or if she harbored more kinetic impulses. His confession was essentially about this very line.

"Where should I begin?" he murmured. "I guess... I want to know if love is always good."

"Can you be... more specific?" asked Father Patrick.

"Can I trust love?" he asked. "I know how abstract that sounds, but I don’t know how else to put it. Is it right to love people if it seems to lead to bad places?"

Father Patrick was silent for a moment. "Harry, you can always trust love, assuming it comes from a place that feels true to you. Loving others, in a way, is not different from loving and respecting God. You may not be religious, but I hope this fact still holds meaning for you."

"I suppose, to some extent, it does."

"Love is a force for good. It can be distorted and abused by those with ulterior motives, but the emotion itself is always a force for good."

"Thank you," Harry said.

Father Patrick coughed. "Of course, I speak of love within marriage, according to God’s plan. You’re not engaging in premarital sex, are you, Harry?"

Harry winced, feeling uncomfortable even trying to blur the truth in the present context. "Yes, a little, but with love, and you just said..."

"That’s a completely different matter!" Father Patrick snapped. "You are a sinner and will burn in hell if you do not repent."

"It’s more than that," he said. "It’s a bit more spicy than just premarital intimacy."

"Then you will burn in an even hotter and more painful hell."

"Ah. Cool, I guess."

The priest sighed, and Harry heard the second sliding door open. "Well, I think we’ve reached a point where continuing this confession will only lead me to beat you over the head with the restrictions of a religion you don’t follow. I won’t impose that on you."

"I appreciate that, Father."

"You must curb your sinful habits as soon as possible," Father Patrick said. "I sense goodness in you, Harry, but I also sense the potential for greatness. There is no benefit in holding back from affirming to you that your sexual impulses are wrong, completely and utterly, if pursued outside the context of marriage. Or whatever you hinted at that is even worse."

"I thought you said you weren’t going to beat me over the head?"

"I’m trying to save your soul, young man," said Father Patrick. "You should feel bad, uncomfortable, and a little guilty."

"Noted."

Harry helped the priest back to his office. Father Patrick sent him on a few more pointless errands, which boiled down to walking around and checking on things that didn’t need checking. Morning turned into afternoon, with a brief break for lunch consisting of sandwiches, which the priest was kind enough to pay for.

Father Patrick was napping when Harry heard his mother’s car pulling into the church driveway, which suited him just fine.