The Human Condition

Chapter Fourteen: Once Upon a Time

After being pushed and pestered long enough, Clarice left Harry's room late the next morning; she was ready to go home to rest. Ashika Narayan thanked her on bended knee for helping Harry see the light at the end of the tunnel, literally. Clarice accepted the thanks, smiled, then entered the room where Hermione was finally coming out of a deep and needed sleep.

"Hello dear," Clarice said softly.

"Hello," Hermione yawned.

Clarice hobbled over to the bed and sat down beside her. She smoothed out a few creases on the bed with her thin hands, then peered into Hermione's eyes with her cloudy blue ones. "The Healers say you're fine. I asked if I could tell you because I wanted to say something else."

Hermione pushed herself up. If she'd been a dog, she would've perked her ears. Clarice's eyes suddenly softened and she reached out and grabbed Hermione's hand with a firm, warm grip. "Yes?" Hermione asked.

Clarice took a breath and smiled. "Thank you," she said in a hushed voice that made Hermione feel secretive. "Thank you for saving him. I know it was very hard, but thank you."

Hermione tried to say "you're welcome," but the words wouldn't form. Instead she asked, "Is Harry doing okay?"

Clarice made a impassive face. "He's out of his coma," she said warmly. "I made him eat this morning, but he's still upset. He's lost someone very precious to him. It'll take time for that wound to heal, just like the others. I told him that Dana is supposed to come by this afternoon, and he seemed happy about it. So to answer your question, yes, I suppose he's... okay."

Hermione nodded and rolled her eyes to a button on her blouse. "He's still furious with me, isn't he?" she asked, though she felt she already knew the answer.

Clarice smiled sadly. "Narayan and Sirius were right: he won't always be. I promise you that he won't always be furious with you. He'll see. One day he'll understand why you had to do what you did."

Hermione tensed. "When we were talking, he was so angry with me, but then he wasn't. For some stupid reason I thought that would be the end of it. I'm not sure why I thought he got over his anger so quickly. Harry never calms down like that. But he didn't seem upset---"

"He didn't want you to have that last memory of him. He put his anger aside to tell you why he wanted to leave. I'm afraid that he's still quite angry."

Hermione bobbed her head and ran her tongue over her dried lips. "You saw everything I saw?" she asked, wanting to make sure she understood clearly.

"Yes," Clarice answered. "You played your cards right. Telling him to live for Dana and placing guilt on him was the perfect technique."

Hermione smiled to herself but she didn't feel happy. "How long should I wait before talking to him?"

Clarice got slowly to her feet. She held the small of her back with her hand as she grimaced while straightening her back. "Ooo," she said squinting from the pain, "I'm not as young as I used to be." She hobbled for the door, her feet shuffling on the floor. "When you think the time is right, the time will be right. I can't see the future you know," she said kindly with a wink.

"Ms. Starling?" Hermione asked just before Clarice left.

She raised her eyebrows.

"Thanks," Hermione mumbled. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Clarice beamed at her. "You're welcome, Hermione. I couldn't have done it alone either. Rest up, now. You still need it. I think I'll see you some time again." She didn't say goodbye; she simply left without fanfare like Sirius had done.

Hermione waited a few moments before getting out of bed and changing into fresh clothes which someone had left for her. Her mind buzzed with the recent visions, images, and memories that had permeated her consciousness. She wished she wouldn't think of it all, but her mind wouldn't cease.

Out in Harry's living room were Ron and Marc Simon, but no one else. Ron shot out of his seat when he saw Hermione. "How're you feeling?" he asked.

Hermione crossed her arms and smiled. "Better. Listen, I'm going to go see my family. I know they're worried sick about me. They'll want to see me and hear the story behind my disappearance. What are you going to do?"

Ron leaned on the back of the sofa. "Someone has to stay here for a while, just to make sure he doesn't do anything rash, like hang himself, or burst into flames or something. I agreed to pull the first shift of Harry-sitting."

Hermione tried swallowing, but again she didn't have the proper amount of saliva. "Oh," she said. "Have you spoken to him?"

Ron shook his head. "He's been in that room the whole time. Clarice said I should check on him every few hours, just to make sure he's still alive. And I have to make him eat something so he can't starve himself."

"Unless he pukes like a bulimic," Hermione added.

"He can't do that," Marc said. "There's a potion put in all his food that makes it impossible for him to vomit it up."

Hermione sighed with relief. Good, at least he couldn't starve. She wanted to go peek in on Harry but knew he'd throw something at her, or just curse at her. After all, it was her fault he was in there breathing and living. It might take months before he thanked her, if he ever did.

"Hey, Hermione?" Ron said brightly.

"What?" she asked, returning a grin.

Ron stood again and walked toward her with a look of the deepest sincerity and said, "It's good to have you back. Don't believe for a second that Harry didn't miss you, too. We all did"

Despite the bittersweet situation, Hermione felt herself blushing and smiling like a teenage girl.

Ron's cheeks got a little pink too, just by looking at her smile. "After you see your family, we have to catch up. A lot has happened since you left," he said.

Hermione hiked up an eyebrow. "Oh really? Like what?"

Ron couldn't contain himself. It would've been inappropriate and insensitive of him to tell Harry, who was having problems of his own, and to expect him to be happy for Ron. But he had to tell someone other than his family.

"I was accepted into Auror Training." he said proudly.

Hermione's face lit up as she jumped into his arms. "Ron that's wonderful!" she exclaimed. "You've finally done it! Congratulations!" she said, then kissed his cheeks. "You have to tell me all about it."

"Later," he said with a nod and a grin. "Go see your family."

Hermione wiped her happy tears with her fingers but kissed Ron's cheek again. "Your father must be so proud."

"He is," Ron said with a sigh. "He really is. Fred and George thought I was joking when I told them and, for punishment, they pushed me in a stream by the house. Ginny's told everyone she's ever met."

Hermione couldn't stop grinning that day. Ron's happiness buoyed her away from Harry's depression. Only twenty minutes after she spoke with Ron she ran into the outstretched arms of her mother and father and felt like she was six years old, basking in their love, grateful that she had it.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Marc Simon left. He didn't want to see Harry for he didn't really have anything to say. Maybe one day he'd come back, apologize for his actions and misconceptions, but today was not appropriate.

So Ron was left in Harry's flat alone. Well, not totally alone. Harry was still locked away in his room, probably with the curtains blocking sunlight. There was a possibility that Vanessa would bring Dana home, but Ron wasn't sure that was the best idea.

Later that morning, as noon approached, Dobby returned. He didn't need explanations. Maybe it was an elf sixth sense, but Dobby knew what had happened and how Harry was and would be. He made himself busy in the kitchen and prepared a simple lunch for his employer: peanut butter sandwiches and a glass of milk.

"I'll take it to him," Ron said, more like insisted. He wanted to see Harry, wanted to check on him for himself. As he balanced the tray in his two hands, approaching the double doors of Harry's room, Ron clearly heard a pounding noise. Ron pushed open a door and edged inside.

Harry was out of bed, which was a great improvement. He was dressed in casual attire: a black tank-top and work-out pants. At the moment he was venting his anger out on a punching bag, which had been returned a few days previously. Harry had his head bent low, his fists held high, and then he would strike.

Ron stood and watched for a few minutes, wondering if it was safe to approach. Looking at Harry, you'd never have thought he'd been bedridden, in a coma, and ready to die not long before. Harry appeared to be at full strength, huffing and growling as he punched, swung, and kicked at the bag. There were beads of sweat on his forehead and temples, and his upper arms and chest were shiny with perspiration.

Ron cleared his throat to get Harry's attention. Harry continued his punishing regime but told Ron to come in.

Ron sat down the tray on the desk then stood watching Harry for a while. Ron had to admit, from a strictly heterosexual point of view, mind you, that Harry had worked hard to maintain such a physique. There had been a time not too long ago when Harry was tall, lanky, and unimpressive. But now Harry out-muscled not only Ron, but most people Ron knew, including many professional Quidditch players. Looking at him, Ron felt weak. He tried hiding his own body, which, while not scrawny, wasn't as taught or trained as Harry's.

Harry let his arms drop to his sides as he breathed hard. He stared for a long while at that bag, which swung left to right, like a pendulum.

"I brought lunch," Ron said, hoping he sounded cheerful.

Harry didn't move.

"Dobby made it. Peanut butter on whole wheat. I'm not a fan of whole wheat, so I didn't make one for myself," Ron said.

Harry's breathing was calming. He backed away from the bag and picked up a towel to dab himself.

Hermione was always better with this kind of thing; the awkward silences, the over boiling tension. But Hermione wouldn't be welcome for weeks or months. So it was left to Ron to break the tension.

"Harry," Ron started seriously. "I'm really sor---"

"Don't say it," Harry said from across the room. "Don't say it," he mumbled as he dropped the towel.

Ron nodded and folded his hands nervously. "Right. Look, I know you hate this, but I have to make sure that you eat lunch."

Harry shut his eyes and grimaced. He rest his hands on his hips and chewed his bottom lip. "I had the chance to end this and I didn't. It was easy and painless and I didn't do it. Now all my painless options are gone. Give me some credit, will you?"

"Sorry," Ron said.

Harry cranked his head back and flipped around to face Ron, to stare him in the eye. "Don't tell me you're sorry," he said. "I don't want people feeling sorry for me, you understand?" he asked, his voice rising steadily. "I don't want your pity or your charity."

Ron stood. "Then what do you want?"

Harry unwrapped the tape from his wrists as he spoke. "I want some bloody respect. I want space. I want everyone to stop meddling in my life. I can take care of myself, thanks," he said, glowering at Ron now. "Been taking care of myself for as long as I can remember, and I don't need your help or anyone else's. You got that?" he snapped.

Ron dared himself to move closer to Harry and surprisingly he did. "Harry, I know this must be hard for you. I understand you're in a lot of pain---" and that was as far as he got.

"Shut up," Harry started, the anger coloring his face. "Shut up. You know this must be hard for me? Really? You really know what it's like?" he asked, closing the space between them. "I'll tell you what," he said in a way that gave Ron goose pimples, "let's play a game. We'll call it the Game of My Life. Ready?" he asked, but went on before Ron could back away or put a word in. "Once upon a time there was a cosmic accident which we'll call my conception. Nine months later I was the result, put here by some higher power or cosmic joker to neutralize a threat. That threat tries to kill me and fails. Well, that's where it all began, isn't it? So good old Dumbledore thought it would be best to keep me alive so I could finish the job in sixteen years. Keep me safe. Now I suppose 'safe' is a relative term, isn't it?" he asked, marching forward, marching towards Ron who kept taking small steps in the other direction.

"So I was safe for ten miserable years. I didn't have what you had. I didn't have brothers or a younger sister, I didn't have a father or a mother, I didn't have a home, or friends, or an escape from the hell I had to live for a later day. Then wonderful Hagrid breaks down a door and tells me my life secrets. Time ticks by but each year my life is threatened by a prophecy-fulfilling mad man. An entire school thinks I'm setting a Basilisk loose and killing people, then a man disguised as a rat slips away and joins Voldemort because I was too noble to have him executed. Then I'm dragged into a tournament that had ridiculous rules which couldn't be changed, and am responsible for the death of Diggory and the rise of Voldemort, only to be followed by a year of people thinking I'm insane! Still with me? Is this ringing a bell? How about this? Dragging people into the Department of Mysteries facing death because I fell into a trap! I got my best friend hurt and the only person I had dead. And at this time you had the audacity to envy my fame? To actually harbor jealousy?

"While you and Hermione patrolled corridors and set up decorations, I had curses thrown at me by people preparing me for a battle I didn't want, for a fight I didn't start. When finally that momentous day came I gave my life for you, for Hermione, for the rest of that ungrateful and fickle world in which I have to live. In a bout of insanity I chose to keep living because I didn't want to leave you or Hermione behind.

"You want to know what happened? You want to know what I regret most, Ron? I regretted that choice the moment I made it, the moment I was put back here. Like buyer's guilt. I was stuck here only to watch the two of you move on with your lives, not knowing how pathetic existence really is.

"Then I kept hearing how wonderful it was to be in love. Oh, the nauseating displays of affection, the disgusting, meaningless words, the empty sex I participated in trying to find out what the rest of you swore and died upon. Love, oh that wonderful feeling!" he yelled. "And I bloody found it in a woman who three years later wanted to rule a race of people with me! Who was murdered, by my best friend, and died in my arms with a knife in her heart. And I hated it, I hated life again. The cosmic joke of my existence still continues. I try to leave it but I have to be rescued! Oh, Harry you're so important here, oh how you're needed, oh how you'll be missed!" He backed away from Ron, noticing he'd put him in a corner, but stood close. "Talk to me again. Tell me you understand when you've played that game! After you've watched people you love die, so you can die for everyone else, get back to me and we'll have our little heart to heart."

Harry broke away and walked erratically to his lavatory, slamming the door behind him. He braced himself on the sink and stared into the mirror. His face was red from the shouting, his forehead and temples throbbed with pain and oozed sweat. His shirt was soaking. His whole frame was trembling with adrenaline, with a frustrated anger he'd harbored for years. His facial and arm muscles twitched and tightened. And those beautiful green eyes all those women drowned in looked upon him with loathing and disgust.

How dare anyone, anyone, tell him they understood what he was going through. How dare Ron look upon him with eyes gushing with pity, or speak to him in a voice dripping with sympathy. Ron, the ungrateful and moronic fool, would never understand. Not ever.

Yet a rope of guilt pulled at Harry's conscience. Ron was only here to make sure Harry was safe, not to parade his happiness or listen to Harry's ranting. Harry hated himself as he heard his cruel voice echoing in his mind. That hissing voice that filled those hateful words with poison. Ron didn't deserve that.

Harry slammed his fists into the mirror and shattered it. The shards of glass clattered and crashed onto the sink and hard floor. Harry opened the door, intending to see and apologize to Ron, but Ron wasn't in the room. Harry ran the length of his flat. Ron was picking up his coat, preparing to walk out and leave him.

"Ron, I'm sorry!" Harry yelled, though a tiny part of him wasn't. How dare he pretend to understand. Still, the presentation wasn't exactly smooth and swift. "I'm sorry."

Ron turned around to face him but said nothing. He stared at Harry with emotions Harry didn't need or want; with pity, with regret, with sadness, with condescension. He stood there, preparing to leave, and nodded to himself. He nodded like he'd finally come to an understanding, to a realization that until now had evaded him.

Harry was going to apologize again, but Ron spoke first. "Vanessa's bringing your daughter here this afternoon." Then Ron nodded to Harry and left without another word.

Harry watched the back of the door as he thought of the way Ron said "your daughter." Those words cut at Harry. They lashed the back of his legs and brought him to his knees. And while he worried about the future, about how he'd manage the roles of mother and father, he wondered if he had any friends left, or if he finally cut their strong bonds with his fury.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Harry stood under his shower spout for at least an hour, the hot water scourging his skin. It had taken him ten minutes to realize he'd gone in the shower wearing all his clothes, and because they stuck to his body, it had taken five minutes to remove them.

Twice he had to keep the water hot by adjusting it with magic. He didn't care that his skin was red raw from the heat. He didn't care that he was in pain or that he was sweating and possibly losing water weight from the sauna he'd created. He stood there under the downpour of scalding water in hopes of washing away the poison he was covered in. But it wouldn't rinse away.

The acid eating at his insides, the words he'd said, the things he'd done, wouldn't wash away with hot water. He couldn't erase what he said to Ron. He couldn't scrub away the memory of Dana's face when he'd frightened her, yelled at her, the night after Hermione's fake death.

It wasn't only the filth on his soul that sickened him. The future had too many uncertainties, too many doubts and responsibilities. How was he supposed to raise a girl alone? How could he teach her about life if he detested it and didn't want to be part of it? How would he explain death? How was he supposed to be a father? What was he supposed to teach her? Those questions churned his stomach.

He was glad Ron wasn't here and therefore couldn't hear him; couldn't hear the panic, couldn't hear the worried and frightened cries that escaped his throat, couldn't see the tears that were washed from his face as the scalding shower water replaced the path of his tears. He was glad Ron couldn't see him like this, a weak, pathetic excuse for a human being, for a man.

Harry shut off the water. He leaned his head and arms against the wall, letting the drip from the spout hit his red back. The room was so thick with steam and self-hatred Harry found it difficult to breathe. The room was silent but it was loud. His brain clanked mechanically, trying to find the answers to the questions he so desperately needed.

Harry slid the shower door aside and stepped out. He had to tread carefully, as he hadn't picked up the shards of glass from the mirror he'd shattered. He knew he had to clean them up before his daughter returned. He couldn't let her cut herself on the sharp mirror pieces. But for now Harry simply dried himself and jumped over the floor to the safety his bedroom. He wrapped the towel around his hips then looked over his wardrobe. He didn't want to look formal, but he didn't want to look like a total slob, either. He fingered through his closet and found woman's robes. The robes Audrey had worn at his trial.

They were soft. He slid the material over his finger tips, watched them shine in the light, then he brought them to his nose. They smelled like her. Like cinnamon.

Harry yanked them from their hanger, wadded them into a ball, and stormed into the living room, half naked, and tossed them in the fire place. Dobby looked at him questioningly, but Harry said nothing as he stormed back to his room.

He sniffed and wiped at his eyes as he continued his search for the, "No really, I'm handling it. Tell my you're sorry and I'll rip your tongue out," attire. He decided on an ordinary black t-shirt and blue jeans. They were more comfortable than stupid robes anyhow, but not slob-like in appearance. He tried not to shed any more un-masculine tears as he dressed, but couldn't get the smell of Audrey's skin out of his mind.

She was evil, she was evil, she was evil. He tried saying it in his mind again and again, pounding the mantra, depending on it to move forward. She was evil, evil, evil. Evil like Voldemort, like Bellatrix Lestrange, like Lucius Malfoy who was part of her Black Order. Evil, evil, evil. Pure evil.

He paced around his room, chanting it under his breath, wishing for it to pass through his skin, wanting to absorb it, take it as truth. He wasn't going to be in denial, for crying out loud. That was the first step of loss, denial. Though he'd heard people tell him about denial, he couldn't really remember having it too bad. After all, he saw Sirius killed, Molly Weasley killed, and now Audrey. What was to deny?

That she loved you. Oh how she loved you. That was real. She wasn't trying to bait you into this, she wasn't faking her love, this wasn't like a novel. She really loved you, from start to finish.

Could he deny that? Was it all in her plans to pretend to love him because he was searching so desperately for it? Could she smell him out? Well, she had.

Harry left his room and came into the living room to look out his windows at the London sky. It was cloudy, like most days. There was a bit of condensation on the outer edges of the windows. Perhaps it would rain.

The clock read one in the afternoon. As he looked at the clock on the counter, he saw Dobby peering over the edge, in fear.

Looking at him reminded him of Dana. She'd be coming soon, with Vanessa. Harry stormed back into the guest room, which had been recently cleaned. It would be Dana's room from now on. Harry couldn't live in Audrey's house, not now, not after her lies. But he'd have to go back there to get all of Dana's things. She'd want her dolls and doll houses, her pink tutu, her clothes, tea set, stuffed animals...

Harry took a good look around this room and tried to imagine it pink. The entire flat reeked bachelor pad with it's simplistic designs, modern and plain architecture, dark shiny floors, bar, and huge master bedroom. He had a very hard time trying to imagine a four year old girl running around in a tutu in this place.

Dobby dared himself and came around the corner to look at Harry. "Harry Potter, sir," he said, with a tiny wave.

Harry snapped his head around. "Hi, Dobby," he said. He didn't want his house-elf to hate him, too. "How are you?"

Dobby smiled a little. Harry noticed he was dressed to impress. He had sweat pants on, and over them were polka dot boxer shorts. He wore a novelty t-shirt that said, "I love NY." The "love" was replaced with a big red heart.

"You did some traveling, did you?" Harry asked, pointing at the shirt.

Dobby nodded. "Dobby did, yes."

"You like it there, New York?"

Dobby said it was very much like London. There were a lot of people there. The buildings were bigger, newer, much more square, no double-decker buses.

"Sounds nice," Harry said. He and Dobby stared at each other for a while, saying nothing. Finally Dobby could take it no more and spit out what he was thinking.

"Dobby is sad for Harry Potter," he said.

"Don't be," Harry said, trying to remember that he didn't want everyone hating him. "Harry Potter is sad enough for himself, I don't need more people, or elves, to be sad for me."

"Dobby liked Audrey," he said.

Harry tried keeping his cool. He wasn't going to cry. He wasn't going to cry. She was evil. Evil. "Yeah," he said, taking a few deep breaths. "I liked her too. Listen, Dana's supposed to come by this afternoon. She'll be staying here now. Would it be too much trouble if you went to the house, I'll give you the address, and picked up her stuff? I should be here when she comes."

Dobby agreed. Harry gave the address and told Dobby to take his time. In a pop the elf was gone and Harry was left alone again.

He decided to burn all of Audrey's robes. He started a fire in the hearth, watched them burn, then went to the closet to find the rest of her clothes. There weren't very many clothes in the closet. Audrey had brought a few things to stay with Harry over the night of his speedy trial. Since he was found guilty, there was little need to bring more to the flat. But there were her night things, a few t-shirts, trousers. Harry cast them into the fire.

He wished he would feel something cathartic as he burned them. He wanted to feel rage, regret, wanted to believe she was evil. Evil, complete through and through. He wanted to feel something other than a painful emptiness, a hole where Audrey had been. He wanted to believe what Hermione had said, it would've been easier. Betrayal he could live with, but this...

After the last bit of fabric turned to ash, Harry thought about Audrey's other things.

In his stack of books, in his private library, there was a mysterious black cabinet. No one could get into it but Harry. He'd always told people there were weapons inside. They didn't know what kind of weapons were hidden behind the shiny black cabinet doors.

Inside were weapons for his enemies; his treasures. Photographs. Photos of Audrey, of Dana. Ticket stubs. Leaves from the fall when Harry had first met her. He'd grabbed one from the ground of her house. He remembered it as he went to that cabinet again, intending to burn everything. It was an ordinary leaf; three edges, brown, cracked, some yellow on the tips. When Harry had picked it up, when he'd reached down to grab it, to have something to remember his first visit to Audrey's home, that's when he thought it. The thought he wouldn't let himself think again.

Something's not right...

No, something wasn't right. Not long after he met her he developed his new curse. He'd been unable to stop the voices, the visions, the agony of others, the fears, the dreams, the fantasies and thoughts of people surrounding him.

He wondered now, looking inside his black cabinet of life, if that thought, that brief feeling and gut instinct was a precursor of what was to come. That precognition, as people would call it, perhaps that was the start of it all. Not only did he feel something was wrong, he knew it was. But he ignored it. Audrey lit him up. Her smile electrified him, her voice calmed him, her laugh made him smile. And she loved him just as much as he loved her. Her gentle touch, her loving embrace, her soft eyes that told him everything would be fine... How could he turn down such a wonderful human being and run back into the world he wished he'd left?

Harry set the leaf, wrapped in a bag, back into the cabinet and shut it. Perhaps Dana would want the photos. After all, evil or not, it was her mother. Who was he to take that from her?

Before Dana came in the arms of Vanessa, Harry promised himself not to tell Dana the truth of her real mother until she was older. Harry promised he'd tell her by age ten. Ten was an appropriate time. She would be old enough, mature enough, to be told what had really happened: her real mother was dead, her foster mother who'd taken her real mother's body, had been slain by Hermione.

On second thought...

Maybe he'd tell her the truth when she was older than ten. Or maybe he wouldn't have to tell her. Because he was still famous Harry Potter, and Dana now his famous daughter, perhaps the story would reach Dana when she was younger than ten, from a friend at school, or a parent whispering to another parent. "Poor thing," they would whisper as Dana passed. "Real mother died you know. Her body was host to Leucosia."

Harry hated those parents already, and he hadn't even encountered them. He knew they were out there, he knew Dana would have to carry a load because of who he was and what had happened to him. It was one of the many reasons he didn't want children. Yet here he was, an adoptive father. Irony.

Harry sauntered into the living room then crashed in his sofa.

The door glowed blue. A friend had arrived.

Harry took three cleansing breaths then went to the door and opened it.

Just who he had been expecting. Vanessa was at the door with a cheery smile, her hair pulled back into a pony-tail. Dana was sleeping in her arms, her head on Vanessa's shoulders. She had a pink coat on, and purple corduroy trousers, with pink socks and purple tennis shoes. Harry bit his lip to keep from crying his non-manly tears at the site of her. He opened the door wide to allow Vanessa entrance.

"She fell asleep in the car," Vanessa whispered. "Where should I put her?"

Vanessa acted like she'd taken Dana out for a day trip. Harry loved her for that.

"Uh, my room. Her room isn't ready yet," he whispered back. She could sleep on his bed until she woke up, then he would move her into her new room. They didn't speak as Harry escorted her to his bedroom; he couldn't think of anything to say. But it seemed like Vanessa understood.

Vanessa lay her on Harry's bed, then tucked her in and kissed her cheeks. She then pulled a stuffed animal, a unicorn, from her purse and secured it in Dana's arms. Harry couldn't help but think, I would've never thought of that.

Then Vanessa tip-toed out of the room, expecting Harry to follow her. He watched his daughter sleep for a few seconds. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, her eyes twitched a little. Harry followed Vanessa out and shut the doors.

"She's such a good kid," Vanessa said as she helped herself to some coffee that Dobby offered her. "Feisty and active, but that's what four year olds are like."

Harry thought it would be rude to simply kick her out of the house, considering that Vanessa had taken care of Dana while he'd been in his coma that Hermione dragged him out of.

"Yeah," he replied, sipping his coffee so he wouldn't have to keep talking.

Vanessa set her coffee down and studied him for a while. Harry looked up at her, hoping she'd realize that his look had meaning. If she said she was sorry, he might have to punch her.

"Dana really liked the horses," she said. "You know, adjusting to being a full-time parent is rough. If you'd like, I could take her a few hours during the week, maybe on certain days, and give you a break. I could teach her how to ride horses. She fell in love with them. I don't have a horse-loving friend. Ron's a coward when it comes to horses and Hermione said she's not really interested. Dana would love it."

Harry looked into her dark eyes, her smiling eyes. "That sounds fine. Thanks," he said. "It would be good for her to have a woman around."

Ah, now he touched on it. Dana was a girl not a boy. He had a daughter, not a son. Girls needed mothers. The woman is a complicated creature and Harry never pretended to understand his female counterpart. They seemed to speak their own language, but could understand each other. Dana had to learn to be a woman, and she wouldn't learn from Harry, a man, whose universal solution to his problems was breaking things.

Vanessa, though not cursed with telepathy, seemed to see inside his mind. "She will, Harry. I'll be around whenever you need me to. I love that little girl of yours. And there's Ginny too. You trust her don't you?" she asked, but it was a question that really didn't require an answer.

Harry didn't realize, while he stared into Vanessa's kind eyes, his own were glossing over with unshed tears. Yes, he trusted Ginny. He hadn't spoken to her or seen her in months, hadn't had an actual conversation in about a year, but she was a friend.

Vanessa sighed. "You'll be good with her. After I saw her with you, during that break from the trial, I told everyone how good you were with her. You'll be a great dad. Every new parent wonders if they have what it takes. This is normal."

"But I don't," Harry said and he was embarrassed to hear his voice crack. "I don't have what it takes."

Vanessa stood up and shook her head at him. "If that's what you really believe, and if you keep saying it to yourself, then you won't. Sorry, I don't mean to sound like a confidence coach, but it's the truth. Parenting is hard work, but it's worth it. It'll bring you so much joy. Children are blessings, Harry."

Harry stood up to escort her to the door, which was where she was headed. "Thank you," he said again. "For everything. Really. You're welcome here anytime." Harry thought that last bit might be a little much, but she was helpful in more ways than one.

Vanessa hiked up her purse strap and grabbed the door knob. "Anytime. Owl me if you need me, or floo me. Whatever. Dana's a good kid. She's definitely a keeper, but a handful. You'll need help so don't hesitate to ask."

Harry managed a smile for her. "I won't," he said.

Vanessa brushed some hair from Harry's face, then left. He silently thanked her for not bringing up Hermione, though he knew she wanted to. He wished she would've brought up Ron so he could tell her to tell him how sorry he was. But if she wasn't angry with him, perhaps she'd told Ron not to take it personally.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Dobby came back with all of Dana's stuff. He helped Harry arrange everything, which was good. Harry had difficulty with what should go where and why, so Dobby did it for him. Harry was trying to lower the closet rack so Dana could reach it when he heard a very loud and confused "Mama!" coming from his bedroom.

Harry froze. Dana called for Audrey, not him.

Well naturally. Who spent more time with the child, you or Audrey? Don't take it personally.

Harry abandoned his project and went into the next room. Dana was sitting up in the bed, her hair disheveled, the sheets tangled around her, her cheeks pinker than usual. Harry walked toward her and tried smiling. "Hey," he said gently.

Dana didn't reply immediately. "Hi Daddy," she said.

Harry's shoulders sagged. Usually Dana was delighted and beside herself with joy at the sight of him. She would run to him, arms wide open, waiting for him to scoop her up and twirl her in the air. But now she didn't seem to care.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, moving closer to her.

Dana rubbed her eyes with her tiny hands. "Fine," she said. Her young voice seemed to be older now, though Harry had only seen her a few days ago.

"Good," he said. "I'm making up your new room. I brought all of your things from the other house, your first house."

Dana didn't seem to care. She detangled herself from the sheets and blankets, then crawled down the length of the bed toward him. When she came to the edge, she sat down and looked up at him. "Where's mama?" she asked.

The question stung at him. "She's not here," he said, and once more he fought those tears.

Dana didn't fight them. Her eyes turned red and her small sparkling tears rolled down her cheeks and down her neck. Harry walked to her and picked her up, holding her tight in his arms. She was so warm, so small. He knew the question would come up again, but he had some time to construct the answer properly, if that was possible.

She encircled his neck with her small arms and seemed to relax as he held her. It was then that the reality and the weight of all that was and would be, struck him. Dana was his. Only his. His little girl. She would rely on him for everything: care, shelter, food, and most importantly, love and guidance. The first three were easy, and he was confident now that he could do the fourth. He'd never had a problem loving her. He always loved her, from the moment he lay eyes on her as an infant. So delicate, so innocent, so perfect in her own way.

"You're going to live here now," Harry told her. "Okay, kiddo?" he asked.

Dana didn't really reply. She was still wondering, in her childish way, where her mother was. She knew she was gone. But why? Audrey was almost always with Dana, so where had she been for these past few days?

Harry knew she'd ask soon, sooner than he wanted her to ask, but he decided that Dana could ask as many questions as she'd like, and about anything. He didn't tell her she could, he just told himself not to get angry and scream at her if she asked a question. He would answer her even if he didn't have the answer.

That night was a silent one. Harry didn't feel much like talking, and Dana wasn't real chatty herself. After pudding (rhubarb pie), Harry gave her a bath. He'd had enough experience and coaching that he felt confident about this. One day soon, however, she'd have to do this alone. After the bath he dried her, put on her pink pajamas, and took her to bed in her new room, formerly the guestroom.

"Wead me a stowry," she told him, handing him "Horton Hears a Who," by Dr. Seuss. Harry sat down on her bed and read. Occasionally he'd check to see if she was still awake, and she usually was. When Harry finally reached the end, however, Dana's eyes were shut, her breathing heavy and steady.

He closed the book and set it on a shelf. Remembering what Vanessa had done, Harry placed Dana's stuffed unicorn into the crook of her arm, then kissed her cheek.

o-o-o-o-o-o
A week and a half seemed to be the amount of time everyone thought was appropriate for grief.

A week and a half after Harry awakened from his coma, packages were delivered to him, visitors dropped by, and the Ministry poked around in his business.

Even Hedwig got in on the flush of deliveries. Harry was so inundated with mail that he had to stash it away in boxes and sort through it one at a time. Hedwig brought Harry only a few packages, but Harry didn't bother looking at them for at least another week, which was wise of him.

Harry tried not to read The Daily Prophet, which was being delivered regularly now that he'd returned. He'd read it a few times, as to keep up with the news, but there were too many editorials, too many columns, and opinions about that poor Harry Potter. He felt that if he read one more article saying, "I feel so sorry for the poor soul," he might set fire to the Prophet's office building. But Hermione was right. Harry's ordeal, in it's entirety, was published. The break from Vincula, the charge into Ithaca, Audrey's true identity, the death of Audrey, Harry's coma... everything was published, everyone seemed to have something to say about it, even some aspiring amateur psycho-babbling shrinks put in their two cents.

Harry wondered how the story had broke, but found that he didn't really care. Was it any different? Did he expect it to be any different? He'd always been under the microscope and he was sure he always would be. As long as he was alive, at least, and maybe even after he was dead, whenever that would be.

He was in the middle of opening an envelope, thinking about Audrey, when a curious owl arrived with a letter, a letter that would in some ways ease the pain of loss, but in other ways cause regrets.

The small brown owl landed on Harry's desk and dropped a formal letter for him, then flew out the open window again. Harry picked it up. On the back was a wax seal. A unicorn foal.

Frowning, Harry opened the envelope to read the following:

To Mr. Harry Potter,

Following the requests of the late Audrey Wyatt, an agent will be visiting you on November 19 in regards to the future care of Dana Wyatt. If you have any further questions, please contact our office by floo or owl.

Sincerely,

Grace Waters

Young Wizard Protective Services

Harry re-read the letter ten times. If he had questions, contact the office by owl or floo. Yeah he had questions. But he could answer them for himself.

They knew the Audrey he had married wasn't the real Audrey Wyatt. The newspapers had talked about it constantly. They didn't know how Leucosia had done it, but they knew the real Audrey Wyatt had died years ago.

And in a second Harry thought of something that hadn't occurred to him before. He'd never technically been married. If he'd never been married, then his signature on Dana's adoption papers was pointless. Only the real mother of Dana, the real Audrey, could sign off and okay Harry's guardianship.

All at once Harry couldn't breathe.

...in regards to the future care of Dana Wyatt... Not Dana Potter. No, in regards to Dana Wyatt, daughter of Aiden and Audrey Wyatt.

Harry pushed away from his desk and walked out of his room. He could hear Dana talking to her dolls in the living room. She'd pulled out a doll house, the doll's car, and was now taking Barbie and Ken on a vacation in the kitchen sink.

He could take her and live in secret again, then the Young Wizard Protective Services couldn't find him and take Dana away from him. But he knew that was no good. Dana had to go to school, had to attend Hogwarts, had to play Quidditch.

Harry marched into the kitchen, pulled a Guinness from the refrigerator, then marched back to his room. As he popped open the top and drank half of it under a few seconds, Harry realized he was jumping to conclusions. The YWPS couldn't just take his daughter from him. Dana believed Harry to be her father. The YWPS had to think about what was best for Dana and taking her away from her father wasn't in her best interest.

And if they tried, well, then Harry would do something drastic. But he told himself to be patient and cross that bridge when he came to it. For now he'd just worry himself into oblivion.

Yeah, that would work.

Finishing the Guiness, Harry opened another package without looking at the return address. He didn't wonder about the address when the contents fell out of the envelope within the package and into his hand. His Auror Ring. Dana's rubber band kiss. His solid gold wedding ring from Audrey. His glass cross.

Harry dropped the envelope and stared down at the small objects in his hand. The Auror Ring, the one given to him after completing three years of hard, demanding training, looked dull. It had been stuffed in that envelope and then stored in Vincula with the other three objects Harry had worn. He wondered if he still had the title, if the Ministry would hire him back, or if he wanted to be hired again. He hadn't been an Auror for a week when he met Audrey and fell for her. Great Auror he was.

Dana's rubber band was beginning to rot, as rubber tended to do. Harry sealed it in a plastic bag and would keep it forever. No one would take it from him.

The wedding ring meant nothing now. He'd never really married, after all. He pinched it in his fingers and looked on the inside of the ring where a small engraving read: For Audrey, May 2003. Harry swallowed his emotion, not allowing it to pass through his lips in the form of a choked sob. He let the ring drop. It fell, fell, fell to the floor where it spun and finally came to a rest after a few seconds of oscillation.

And the glass cross had the audacity to glimmer and shine in his palm. He rubbed it with his thumb pad, unknowingly frowning at it, wishing to spat at it, crush it in his palms, the tiny shards to break his tough skin and ooze blood. He thought his prayers were answered with Audrey. He had thought that maybe his life wasn't a cosmic joke but would be given purpose through her and through her love. But it was a lie.

Breathing heavy with anger, Harry gripped the cross, still attached to the black nylon cord, and flung it across the room where it hit the wall and crashed and maybe it shattered, Harry didn't care.

Audrey was evil, never good. And the YWPS would take Dana away. His family would be erased from his life and he'd be left to live alone, not even a higher power to comfort him.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Harry spent the next morning in bed, the covers pulled over his head. It had been two and a half weeks since he came back here. Two and a half weeks since he'd spoken to Ron or Hermione, Vanessa or Clarice. He half expected Ashika Narayan to storm in, dump could water on him, and tell him to stop feeling sorry for himself and get out of bed. She didn't.

By the time he finally dragged himself out of bed and into the lavatory to wash up, Dobby had entered with a cup of coffee and an announcement that he had a visitor.

Dobby didn't say "you have a friend" but a visitor. Panic flooded his veins as he thought an agent from YWPS would be here, but remembered they weren't coming until the 19^th. Curious, Harry dressed quickly then met his visitor in the living room.

Sitting calmly in the sofa and clasping a steaming cup of coffee was Harry's former attorney, Jacob Verit. Parchment of a formal nature sat on the coffee table before the lawyer. Jake didn't notice Harry had come in, and Harry didn't announce it. He stared at Jake, wondering how long it would take for the fool to notice him.

Jake stared out of one of the windows and sipped his coffee, apparently deep in thought.

"What do you want?" Harry asked.

Jake jumped a little, spilling coffee on his shirt, then stood up, spilling more coffee on himself.

"Harry," he said nervously, trying to dry the coffee with a serviette rather than his wand. He hadn't changed at all since Harry had last seen him as he was whisked away to Vincula. Jake did seem much more nervous than Harry had ever seen him and Harry detected Jake had come to him for several reasons, one of them he didn't want to mention, but knew he had to.

"Jake," Harry said with a nod. "What do you want?" he repeated, this time more slowly. He looked around for Dana then saw her in a corner with the pots and pans. She was having the time of her life banging them together, creating music.

"Well," Jake said, still clearly nervous. "First of all, I wanted to say I'm---"

"Don't," Harry commanded, raising his hand screwing his eyes shut. "Don't tell me how sorry you are that I married an evil woman and now she's dead and oh how my heart is breaking." Harry opened his eyes to stare him down but Jake was smiling.

"Actually, I wanted to say sorry for how the trial went. I'm not very good at defense, as you saw. I also wanted to show you this," he said, handing Harry the parchment. "It's a notice of the date of our appeal, which is actually next week if you can believe that."

Harry took the parchment in his hands and scanned the formal document. Yes, Jake was right, it was a notice of Harry's appeal. Even after Jake thought Harry might be guilty, he had still filed for an appeal.

Guilt washed over him once again. He looked up from the parchment into Jake's eyes. "Sorry," he mumbled.

"No apologies necessary," Jake said. "I was angry that you didn't trust me with all your secrets, but I knew it wasn't a reason for you to rot in prison. Of course, we don't need an appeal. The Ministry has cleared you of all charges... again." He took the parchment back and tore it into four pieces then threw it in the fireplace.

Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets because it gave him something to do. He didn't know what to say to Jake, if there was anything to say. As it turned out, Jake had more to offer.

"And as compensation for my faults," Jake said, one side of his mouth rising into a smirk. "I thought I'd offer you some advice on how to deal with the YWPS and win your daughter back."

Harry raised his eyebrows and felt his heart flutter with hope. "I'm listening," he said.

Jake sat down again and Harry did the same, sitting in a chair opposite the sofa. "Well, there are rules the YWPS must abide by. You should also know that the Ministry isn't tied to the YWPS, so there can't be any bribing of government officials for child custody. In this case it's bad because the Ministry owes you one, and if the two were connected, you wouldn't have a problem."

"Get to the good news Jake," Harry said.

"Right," Jake said, slapping his hands on his knees. "I'm not sure if you know the details of the case. They usually don't include that in letters, the agents tell you. But I happen to know the details because of connections that I have that you didn't hear me tell you about."

Harry slid forward in his chair and nodded. "What connections?" he asked with a smirk, the first sign of happiness he'd shown in weeks.

"Exactly," Jake said. "You have a number of things going for you. First, Dana believes you to be her real father. Two, you've spent years with her, cared for her, have a residence for her, and are clearly taking good care of her," he said. Dana banged pan lids together like cymbals.

"That's five things, not two," Harry said.

"Whatever. What you don't have going for you is that Audrey's aunt and uncle, Dana's blood relatives, are asking for her. They are married, are blood related, and took care of Audrey when she was young. Dana is their only link to their niece."

Harry swallowed and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles. That didn't sound good for him.

"Great," Harry said. "That's just great. Tremendous. Blood relations. Blood relations always, always take better care of their other blood relations instead of someone who's not blood related, that's what I always say. Is that what you always say? That's what I always say. Blood relations are great caregivers. The best." Harry fell back into the sofa and stared at the ceiling and laughed.

He clutched his stomach as he laughed so loud and so hard that tears came to his eyes. It wasn't an evil maniacal laugh of a villain plotting for the end of the world, but a laugh of desperation, of helplessness, and of knowing there's nothing left.

He dropped his head down to his chest and continued his deep belly laugh. Dana had stopped banging pots and pans to watch him. Even she sensed the sorrow behind the mirth.

Jake wasn't infected by the sudden and strange cackles. He waited for Harry to regain composure before continuing.

Finally Harry wiped his eyes and his laughter died down to a chuckle, then a snicker, and finally just a sick smile. "So that's it then?" he asked.

"No," Jake said. "Harry, you still have a chance, but you'll have to fight and change your lifestyle. There are a few hoops you'll have to jump through, but you can keep her if you fight hard enough."

Harry dropped his smile and crossed his arms. "Okay," he said nodding. "Okay, what do I have to do?"

"The YWPS will look at a few things to see if you're good for Dana. They want to see someone who's stable, who's situated and well-grounded, someone who's of a sound mind, and someone who is capable of the challenges of raising a child."

Harry tried to mask his despair. He wasn't sure he was stable, well-grounded, of a sound mind, and he knew he wasn't capable of raising a little girl.

"Are you okay?" Jake asked.

Harry's face had gone from pink to green in a fraction of a second and he felt rather faint. "Yeah. Fine," he managed, though he could feel his light, unstable minded head floating away. "Fine."

"Harry, you'll do fine," Jake said slowly. "There are ways you can prove this."

"I'm not talking to a bloody shrink with inkblot tests," Harry said, his eyebrows so high they nearly touched his hairline. "He'll fail me and that'll be the end of it."

Jake bit his lip. "You don't have to speak to a shrink. You have to get a job. Full time."

Okay, that Harry hadn't expected. How was he supposed to show he was a capable parent if he had to have a job and leave his daughter with strangers? That seemed contradictory. Get a job, leave your daughter with someone else. He could understand leaving her with strangers if he were poor and needed to work to give her what she needed, but Harry was swimming in wealth.

"A job? And where does Dana go when I have this supposed job?" Harry asked.

Jake shrugged. "Full time implies either a thirty or more hour work week, or five days a week for half the day. Dana could go stay with a friend, you could enroll her in pre-school, which wouldn't be a bad idea, and she starts primary school in a year. Having a full time job would prove that you can work in routine, that you're stable and can handle the stress of work, and you're bringing income in, though you don't really need that because you have quite a bit of pocket change. Harry, I don't make the rules, they do. You may think they're stupid, but in order to keep her you have to play their game."

A job. He could get a job. But going to the Ministry right now, begging Arthur Weasley to take him back as an Auror, after all the Ministry had accused him of and done to him, wasn't realistic. Harry wouldn't be able to muster enough sincerity to apply for a position, at least not at this time. But he was trained to be an Auror and he didn't really have experience doing anything else.

After he graduated from Hogwarts he'd been asked to play Quidditch professionally, but he assumed that offer had expired since it was now seven years later. Anyways, traveling all the time and practicing religiously wouldn't be the best for Dana.

"Uh," Harry said, rubbing his chin. "I could get a job. I don't know where, but I can get one. Then what?"

"After you've gotten the job and held onto it, you go before a family judge and defend your position. Audrey's family will try to get Dana, but Dana's best interest is staying with you. If you get a good, respectable job, you should be fine."

Harry nodded. Perhaps Jake was right, maybe he could hold onto her. Feeling considerably more relieved now than this morning, Harry sighed and fell back into the chair again. "Do I need an attorney?"

Jake shook his head.

"So if I do all this right, they can't take her away from me?" Harry asked.

"No, they can't. They can only take her away if Dana is abused, and that won't happen," he said.

Harry furrowed his brow. "How long has this organization existed?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know, a hundred and fifty years maybe," Jake said.

Harry chuffed. "Over a hundred years. A century and a half. Amazing," he said to himself, chuckling. "Best interest of the child... yeah."

Jake didn't respond but folded his hands together and studied Harry. "You should get this job as quickly as possible."

Harry nodded. "I'll see who has openings for Aurors. Maybe Ireland or Canada or something. Ireland would be best, they're closer, same time zone."

"An Auror isn't the safest position one could hold," Jake said warily. "You might want to play it safe for a while, until you've got this in the bag. Being an Auror could bring harm to Dana and the YWPS would play that card."

"Really?" Harry asked.

"Unfortunately. You might want to try a different position."

When Harry asked what other positions there were, he got the feeling that Jake had an idea the entire time. Jake listed many things that Harry knew he was overqualified for, then Jake hesitantly suggested education.

"You mean me, a teacher?" Harry asked, almost laughing.

"There are plenty of positions open for teaching. Parents are looking for tutors for their children and there's an empty position at Hogwarts," Jake said in a rushed manner.

Harry cocked an eyebrow suspiciously then cleared his throat. "Lemme guess," he said, scratching his head, "Defense against the Dark Arts?"

Jake smiled. "You hit it on the head."

"Yeaaah," Harry sighed. Jake couldn't be serious about Harry taking the job at Hogwarts. Bad things always happened to those professors and Harry had enough bad news on his plate. Taking this job would ensure that Harry would have enough trouble to fill the Great Hall. "That job is cursed. I had seven different professors for that class in my seven years of school. Some horrible things happened to those people."

"But I heard you were a good teacher. I heard you enjoyed teaching defense against the dark arts," Jake said.

"I couldn't teach full---hang on. Where did you hear that?" Harry asked, tilting his head a bit.

Surprisingly, Jake blushed and he immediately looked away from Harry. "Uh," he said, then coughed. "Hermione mentioned it."

Harry leaned forward and folded his hands in his lap. "Hermione told you?" he asked in an accusatory voice.

Jake looked up at Harry, his face scarlet, and nodded. "Yeah. We've been talking."

"Talking?" Harry asked. "Talking? What the hell's that supposed to mean?"

Jake held up his hands defensively. "Harry calm down. When I heard Hermione was safe, I called on her. I wanted to see her, is that illegal?" Jake asked.

"No," Harry snapped. He was surprised by his hostility toward Jake and decided he was being ridiculous. "No, that's perfectly fine. Just fine. So you two are just friends then?" he asked. He picked up a cup of coffee and took a sip.

"Well," Jake said, growing redder, "not exactly. I mean yes, we're friends, but we're---uh---we're, you know," he cleared his throat, "seeing each other."

Harry's eyebrows did another leap. "Dating. You're dating her." Harry set down the cup of coffee and stared into it. He could see his wavy reflection in the dark coffee.

"Yeah," Jake admitted then was silent for a few moments. "I know you two are close, or were. She said something about having a falling out? You're still friends with her, though, right? She's a great woman, Harry. I hope this is okay with you," Jake said. "It is, isn't it? Not that I need your approval, of course. You're not her father or her brother, exactly. It's just nice to have blessings from friends. She said that in school you, her, and Ron were inseparable, so I took that to mean that she wants your approval, though she doesn't think she does."

Harry looked at Jake and smiled, then went back to watching Dana. She had stopped playing the pots and pans and was now throwing her Barbie dolls in the air and saying, "Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!" as they went up and spun back down to the floor.

"Who's teaching Defense against the Dark Arts right now? It's the middle of the school year," Harry asked, still watching Dana.

Jake's answer was delayed probably because he was expecting the answer to his own question from Harry, which Harry clumsily avoided. "Dumbledore. He's pulling both jobs as headmaster and professor until he can fill the position."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for you're help. I'll look into it." He stood up to escort Jake to the door. Jake tried making eye contact with Harry but Harry's gaze was hard to catch. Harry walked to the door and opened it. "Nice seeing you and thanks for the advice. I'll take it."

Harry extended his hand and Jake took it.

"Harry, I don't want to start something by seeing her, I just really like her," Jake said.

Harry smiled but it wasn't a normal, make-you-feel-good-and-confident smile. "Hermione and I did have a falling out. And why should you care what I think about you and her as a couple? Marry her for all I care," Harry said coldly. "I hope you two are very happy."

Jake nodded. "Good luck with the job search," he said politely.

"Thanks."

And Jake left.

After Harry closed the door he stared blankly into the kitchen. He wasn't sure what the emotion was that took residency in his gut, but he didn't like it. Hermione had been Harry's most valued friend. Sure, Ron was his best friend, the one who he had the most fun with. Ron used to be reckless and rash like Harry, never thinking before acting. Hermione had been the stern, steady influence on the both of them. Hermione always supported Harry, believed in him, had his safety always in mind: the Firebolt, the Occlumency lessons, the Department of Mysteries. Even if Harry was cross with her, Hermione insisted on his safety. In school, Harry and Hermione were comfortable with each other, as good friends should be. He would seek her out, ask for her advice, consult her about various issues he was having, tell her his fears. She was the stern and steady influence, but also caring, kind, and gentle.

Once, many years ago he thought he wanted more than friendship with her, but thought it through and knew it could never be. He had told Hermione the truth to why he never initiated something more, knowing full well Hermione felt the same way about him. Well, he told her some of it.

Harry was a lot of things, but not ignorant about who he was and the man he was becoming. And it wasn't as if he wondered why he was the way that he was; there was little mystery involved. He'd been deprived of love when he needed it the most and told he was worthless. The dramatic change when he went to Hogwarts was unnerving at first, and helped slow the decay of his character, but didn't put a stop to it. Dumbledore had been right when he told Harry he wasn't whole.

So it was true that Harry didn't want to pursue a relationship with Hermione because he genuinely felt and knew that he wasn't good enough for her, that he didn't deserve her. But there was more to it than that. If he did see her as more than a friend, everything would change. They would no longer be great friends, but something more. Harry knew, though several people his age hadn't figured it out yet, that only three things could happen when you started dating someone: ending in death, ending in a break up, or getting married. Harry didn't like any of the options. If he and Hermione were to break-up, the most likely outcome would be a ruined friendship. If they got married, there would be expectations on him, he'd see her all the time, he'd fear he'd stop loving her, and children... Hermione wanted children. She'd made that clear years ago.

Harry turned to the window and stared out of it as Jake had done minutes ago. If Harry didn't want to date or marry Hermione, if he was still furious with her for interfering and invading his mind and private past, why did he feel... resentful? He couldn't decide if he was resentful toward her and Jake, just her, or just Jake. But he was definitely resentful, he knew that now. And a little jealous. But jealous of who and why should he be?

"BOO!" Dana yelled as she collided with Harry's legs and, because he was immersed in his thoughts and wasn't paying attention, was nearly knocked to the floor.

Harry staggered but regained balance and looked down at her smiling face. He had to smile back at her, even if he didn't want to. Something in her face commanded happiness from him and he gave it to her.

Dana threw her arms up, a nonverbal request to be picked up, cuddled, and bounced on the balls of her feet. Harry grabbed her under her armpits and raised her in the air to hold her. She wrapped her chubby legs around his chest and wound her arms around his neck then kissed him.

Harry looked into her deep brown eyes and smiled. "I love you," he told her.

Dana giggled. "I wove you too, Daddy," she said. "Let's play howrsey," she said in stride with her affection.

Harry sighed. Carpet would make this task much easier.

o-o-o-o-o-o

With November 19^th stalking him like a black panther stalks his prey in the darkest jungle, Harry had to take the only opportunity that was provided to him.

As it turned out, there weren't any positions open for Auror at the British Ministry. Arthur filled Harry's position, as he was obligated to do, after a certain amount of time. Firing another Auror just so Harry could take his job back wouldn't be fair, Arthur explained. Harry felt as if he'd been slapped in the face. Harry reminded Arthur, not so kindly, that his position had been stolen from him because he was found guilty of crimes that he was fighting against!

"I'm sorry Harry," Arthur said. Harry detected, though he considered ignoring it, sincerity in the Minister's tone. "When a new position opens or when the Ministry changes policy to allow for more positions, which I would like, I'd be happy to take you on and pay you retroactively."

Harry sighed for the first time that day. The Irish Ministry was also full. He was somewhat relieved to hear that, as his former girlfriend was posted in Ireland, and having to work with her would be awkward.

Harry didn't speak another language, so the only other English speaking Ministry accepting Aurors was the United States. But the hours were strange, due to different time zones, and they wanted their Aurors to live in the country. Harry hated the heat and, though the Ministry there was willing to bend over backwards to take on Harry Potter, Harry declined. He didn't want special favors.

As it turned out, Jacob Verit was right. Education had plenty of openings, but Harry didn't feel comfortable tutoring only a few children. Being left alone with them would be strange and he wasn't sure, though he'd been cleared of all crimes, that parents would trust him with their children.

So, for now, Harry would do something he'd never foreseen.

It would be temporary. Harry would make sure that was understood. It would only last until the YWPS got off his back and until Audrey's aunt and uncle relented and learned Harry was best for Dana.

Temporary.

Harry dressed Dana in warm clothes as he knew for a fact she'd spend her time outdoors in the rain and cold. He pulled a purple sweater over her head, put long underwear on her legs, pulled pink corduroy pants on her, wrapped a pink parka around her, with white fake fur lining the hood, and finally topped her head off with a pink and purple wool hat that covered her tiny ears.

"Daddy," she said as Harry was wrapping a scarf around her neck.

"What?" he asked. He was impressed with how well she was covered and how it would be impossible for the cold to touch her.

"I have to go potty," she said with a rueful smile, crossing her legs.

Harry's shoulders sagged. "But you just went potty," he said, looking at the pink and purple bundle that would take him five minutes to undo and then redo.

If Harry had been in a better mood he might have laughed, but he was too preoccupied about his job, about Dana's future with him, and about the eventual explanation he'd have to provide her regards her mother's whereabouts.

Harry took her hand and led her to the lavatory, then helped her out of her parka, out of her pants and long underwear. Dana wanted him to stay with her while she did the task and Harry did as she liked.

Now he and Dana would go to the horse lady's house. Dana didn't really remember too many names, and Vanessa was very hard to say. Horse lady was much easier to pronounce and Harry knew immediately who she referred to. She would stay with the horse lady while Harry talked to Dumbledore about his possible job.

Because Dana couldn't Apparate and was, for the time being, afraid to fly on brooms, Harry attached a child seat to the back of his Harley. This hurt at first. Attaching a child's seat to a Harley Davidson was nothing short of wicked. The bike was black, shiny, and masculine. The child's seat was white with baby elephants and lambs in diapers painted on it. Harry cringed, but he had no other means of travel out to the country. It would have to do for now.

They arrived mid morning at Vanessa's house, which was just outside of London. Vanessa opened her door wide to allow Harry and Dana to come in.

"Well, hello there!" Vanessa said as she hugged and kissed Dana. "Come in, Harry, don't stand there," she said.

"I really have to go talk to Dumbledore," he said.

Vanessa busied herself in the kitchen then produced a chocolate éclair for Dana, who grinned and giggled and quickly began to eat the treat.

"Coffee, Harry?" Vanessa asked.

"No I have to get going," he said. "Try not to pump her with too much sugar, okay?" he requested. "She'll bounce off the walls and get cranky from the temporary high."

"Not too much sugar, got it," she said, sipping coffee from a novelty cup that had written upon it, "A woman's place is on an Arabian." She set down the mug and crossed her arms as she studied him. "Anything else?"

"No."

Vanessa nodded, checked to see that Dana was out of ear shot, then asked Harry in a whisper, "What if she asks about M-U-M?"

Harry sighed. "She's on a trip right now. I haven't told her the truth yet. I have to think of some easy way to tell her."

Vanessa nodded saying, "Mm hmm," to herself. "When you do tell her, keep in mind that she's smart. Kids understand a lot that we think they won't."

Harry swallowed his sarcasm. "I know," he said coldly.

Vanessa's faced changed from calm to embarrassment and regret. "Oh, Harry I'm sorry, I didn't think---I was thinking about Dana---sorry."

Harry shook his head at her and shut his eyes. "Don't worry about it, I'm just a little stressed about this job thing. If I don't get it, they could take her away."

"Yeah, I know, Jake told us," Vanessa said then grimaced after the fact.

Now Harry crossed his arms. "Us?" he asked, his eyebrows up in their interrogation position. Harry had an idea of who "us" was, but he wanted to make certain that he didn't jump to any unnecessary conclusions.

"Yeah," Vanessa said. "Us. Ron and me. You do know that Jake is dating Hermione, right? Yeah, well Jake was talking to us, Ron, Hermione, and me, about the YWPS and how screwed up they are. The four of us went out on a double date."

Harry stared at her without saying a word.

"You're welcome to come anytime," Vanessa added awkwardly.

Harry mentioned something about having to leave and found himself suddenly in Hogsmeade, the castle in the foggy distance. He marched toward it, the cold having no effect on him, only increasing his frown.

The four of them getting along swimmingly. Isn't that nice. But he didn't care. No, he didn't. Hermione was nosy, Ron was an idiot, Jake was a horrible attorney who couldn't defend an innocent man, and Vanessa, well, she was okay.

His thinking about his two friends and their dates clouded his mind so heavily he bumped into the gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office, not remembering the journey to the castle or walking inside it.

"Watch where you're going!" one yelled at him.

"Sorry," Harry said, though he wasn't. Why should he be sorry for ramming into a stone gargoyle? He was the one in pain, not the block of rock. "Let me in."

Dumbledore had taught the gargoyles to recognize Harry so that, back in his school years, Harry could enter and talk to the Headmaster whenever he needed to. Dumbledore had never changed the system.

Grudgingly, the gargoyle allowed Harry passage and he ran up the revolving stairs to the office door and knocked.

"Come in," Dumbledore said. His voice was muffled by the door which acted as a sound buffer, but Harry heard strain in the Headmaster's voice. Harry grasped the knob and pushed it down, opening the door.

Dumbledore hovered over his desk, a quill in hand, a red ink flask in the desk corner, and a stack of papers under the other hand. Harry walked inside, watching the portraits of the past Headmasters stare at him in awe. Harry stopped before Dumbledore's desk and waited for the old wizard to lift his eyes.

"Busy?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore's quill paused. The scratching was silenced. Slowly, very slowly, Dumbledore's blue eyes rose from the parchment he had been studying and came to rest on Harry's. Before saying a word Dumbledore got to his feet and stared.

It seemed that old age had finally caught its quarry. Dumbledore looked much older now than Harry had seen him, even six months ago. His face seemed to be draped with cobwebs, there were so many tiny lines. His blue eyes, once crystal clear, were clouded and worn. Harry could see Dumbledore's withered hands, thin and knobbed in the joints, shaking with excitement at the sight of his young pupil. His lips quivered as they drew up into a smile, and his voice cracked under the emotion that choked him.

"Harry," he said quietly, just above a whisper.

Harry's thoughts regarding Dumbledore had been mixed. He'd had conflicted feelings about Albus Dumbledore for years, most were positive. Dumbledore was, as Marc Simon might say, a figure head, a leader, and a role model. Yet when Harry learned that Vanessa's mother wanted to adopt Harry and raise him as her own, Harry harbored resentment toward Dumbledore. Now that he was faced with his greatest challenge, raising a daughter alone, Harry's bitterness grew more acidic. Dumbledore was the reason Harry didn't know how to be a good parent, for Harry never had one. Dumbledore had made it impossible for Harry to have a good upbringing.

But as Harry gazed upon the aged and weathered face of his previous Headmaster, Harry couldn't muster anger. He was amazed that an old man could calm him so much, for he'd been in a terrible temper of late. Yet Dumbledore seemed to tame him. Harry wasn't sure if it was Dumbledore's haggard appearance or the reaction he had to seeing Harry, which lured him out of his hostility.

"If you're busy I can come back in a while," Harry said.

Dumbledore shook his head and his eyes read an urgency Harry couldn't ignore.

"Oh no," he replied. "No, no. I'm not busy at all. Please sit down," he said, pointing his knobby hand to a chair. Dumbledore fell softly into his own chair and stared at Harry with watery eyes and admiration.

Harry sat down and studied the old wizard's face.

"You're looking well," Dumbledore said softly. Harry wondered if he was too tired to speak loud and clear. He looked ancient, much older than 160.

Harry smiled. "You're not."

Dumbledore chuckled then coughed. "Well," he said, patting his chest with his fist, "I'm not twenty-four. Old age is unavoidable for some."

Harry grabbed at his robes nervously. "For some," Harry agreed.

"I'm very glad," Dumbledore began, "that everyone knows the truth now. The truth about you, about Leucosia. I have been following the story since it began, as you can understand. I'm glad it's over. But I admit that I've been wondering about you and how well you're coping."

Harry took a deep breath and wished for a cigarette. "I'll deal with it. Betrayal, death, loss, it's nothing new," Harry said. "Old news really."

Dumbledore sat back in his chair and folded his hands on his white beard. "I'm very sorry, Harry."
Harry rolled his eyes and chuckled under his breath. "Everyone's always sorry. That's the customary response to tragedy, even though they had nothing do with it. But I didn't come here for sympathy."

Dumbledore sat forward. "I know."

Harry crossed his arms and frowned. "The institution known as the YWPS, who incidentally forgot about me or chose to ignore me when I needed their services, has found me unfit to be Dana's father. So I come here seeking employment. Supposedly if I can hold a good job it proves I'm not off my rocker and I have a good chance of keeping her. I'd have to have a schedule that would enable me to see her in the afternoons. I've enrolled her in preschool and ballet classes that will keep her busy in the morning, but I have to see her in the afternoon. A lot of the professors live here, I'm not sure why, but that wouldn't work for me. I know you have an opening I'm qualified for and I..." Harry swallowed and shut his eyes. "I need it."

When Harry opened his eyes he saw Dumbledore's face glowing with a mixture of pride and gratitude.

"I need it temporarily until I prove I can take care of her and until a better job comes along. I won't teach here forever, only temporarily. Maybe long enough to break this curse the job holds, prove it's just a fluke. And I'm filthy stinking rich so you don't have to pay me a great deal." Harry only waited for a second before---

"It's yours. When can you start?" came from Dumbledore's dry mouth.

o-o-o-o-o-o

Dana was sleeping on Vanessa's sofa when Harry came to retrieve her. She didn't hear Vanessa let Harry in, nor did she stir when Harry was given coffee and led to another room where he could talk to Vanessa.

"So?" she asked, shutting the door behind her.

"No surprises, I got the job," he said.

Vanessa smirked. "You sound thrilled."

"I'm that transparent, huh?" he said dryly.

"Having a job equals keeping Dana. You should be thrilled."

Harry shrugged. "Honestly," he said, staring down into his murky reflection, "it feels like a giant step backwards. I killed Voldemort, graduated, went through Auror Training, graduated, got married... This wasn't supposed to happen," he said.

Vanessa sighed. "You'll be okay, Harry."

"I'm glad you think so," he said with a smirk.

"Did you ever think about talking directly to her relatives?" Vanessa asked. Harry thought for a second. No, but that would be a great idea. He kicked himself for not thinking of it first.

Vanessa dramatically changed subjects and signaled the change by clearing her throat. "Are you ever going to speak to Hermione again?" she asked.

Harry had been wondering the same thing for the past two weeks. Hermione cemented Harry's first decision to leave Ithaca. She'd made it permanent. Audrey's death made many things certain, the first of them being that Harry would never see her again. She couldn't rule the wizard race with him, couldn't keep her princess Dana with her, couldn't have Harry by her side.

But Hermione had seen things Harry didn't want her or anyone else to see. She saw his past. Those memories belonged to him, not her. Hermione venturing into them caused him to relieve it. He hoped, after she'd seen what he was forced to live through, that Hermione would understand why Harry wanted to die. It was his choice, not hers. He had been angry, furious, irate that she'd meddled where she shouldn't have meddled.

But again, as he watched Dana, as she smiled at him, when he heard her laugh, when she told him that she loved him, Harry was glad he'd lived.

Harry moistened his lips and sighed. "One day," he told her. One day soon, perhaps. Maybe not so soon. It was too hard to call.

Vanessa smiled. "She loves you, Harry. She only wants you to be happy, you know that, don't you?"

Yes, he knew. Even though he couldn't read her thoughts while she'd been running through his mind, he could feel her emotions. He knew. Hermione was real. She was genuine.

Vanessa seemed to sense what he felt and thought, so she didn't repeat her question. "I think this position will be good for you. Surrounded by teenagers all day... a lesson in patience if I've ever heard of one. And you'll need plenty of patience for that little firecracker you've got. While you were gone, I took her for a short ride and she loved it. Then we played in the barn with the new puppies. She wants to take one home, but I said you probably wouldn't want a puppy, so be prepared for sweetness and tons of begging. We had a big lunch and she conked out just before you got back. Horses, puppies, cold weather, and cream soup sure can knock out a four year old."

Harry laughed. "Yeah I guess. Thanks for watching her," he said. "You've been a huge help. Now I have to take the little monster back."

"Yes you do," she said with a grin. "All to yourself. So when do you start teaching, Professor?" she asked with a wink.

"Next Monday. Apparently my first class is second years. Twelve year olds are..."

"Dragons, yeah I remember being twelve. My two younger brothers go there, you know. Promise me you'll give them hard assignments so they can pay me for research."

Harry laughed again. "I'll be sure to do that. You can help me decide essay questions specifically designed for your knowledge."
"Oh that's a good idea!" Vanessa said, punching his shoulder. "They owe me big for what I've done for them. I'm really going to like this arrangement."

Harry smiled widely at Vanessa. "I'm sure you will."

o-o-o-o-o

Lydia and Michael Baxter were nothing like Petunia and Vernon Dursley. While Vernon was loud, Michael was seldom heard to raise his voice, a trait Audrey had picked up. While Petunia let her husband control the house hold and never interfered on Harry's behalf, Lydia, Audrey's father's sister, was clearly the head of the family and seemed constantly worried about Dana's well being.

Lydia reminded Harry of Audrey. Her dark eyes seemed to sparkle, her smile was warm, her voice was soothing. She was nothing like Petunia and her husband was nothing like Vernon. Maybe this would go well.

Michael welcomed Harry but seemed ashamed of himself at the same time. Here was the man they said couldn't raise Dana. He was fighting for her. The man they imagined to be caring for Dana was a hot-tempered, threatening, ogre of a human being, not the handsome man who stood before them with Dana wrapped around one of his legs.

Michael was a very modest man. His hair was white, his eyes were grey, and his smile was, like his wife's, welcoming and very warm. Just by looking at them Harry knew this was a happy couple.

Dana was happy to see them but clung to Harry. He was relieved.

It took all afternoon. Everyone was civil and kind to one another as a plan was arranged. Harry told them he was glad they wanted to be part of Dana's life and welcomed them into it, just as long as they knew Harry would have primary custody. He's the dad, after all, and it wouldn't be healthy for Dana to be taken from him.

They agreed.

Two weekends a month Lydia and Michael could take Dana. And every once in a while, when Dana didn't have preschool classes or ballet, Lydia and Michael would take care of her, either at their home or Harry's flat in London.

The agent for YWPS was called off.

It almost seemed as if Harry didn't need the job from Dumbledore, but Lydia kept saying how wonderful for Harry to be a professor, being responsible for all those children and their education. It was better that he proved to them that he was capable of holding down a job, even though he shouldn't have to prove anything to them. Teaching would also relieve Dumbledore, who appeared to need all the aid he could summon.

Harry was picking up Dana's toys and putting them back in her trunk as he thought about Dumbledore and how ancient he looked. Most of Harry's memories of Dumbledore were of a sprightly man, who was surprisingly strong physically, magically, and intellectually.

"Daddy?" Dana asked as she toddled into her room wearing her pink pajamas.

Harry put a Ken doll into the trunk and looked at her. "Yeah?" he asked.

"When's mummy coming back?" she asked. She picked her stuffed unicorn off the ground and held it close to her, smoothing out the mane and tail with her fingers.

Harry's mouth went dry. She went on a trip, he wanted to remind her. Yes, a trip. She'll never come back, you won't see her, she won't talk to you in the fire or by telephone. She's dead, Dana. Dead and gone. That means you'll live life without her, without her love. All the other boys and girls will have a mother, but you won't. That's what death is.

Harry sat down on Dana's bed and patted the place beside him. Dana crawled up and, instead of sitting next to him, chose to sit in his lap. She didn't know what he was going to tell her, and for that matter, Harry didn't know what to tell her. He wouldn't explain it the way it had been explained to him, that was certain.

Harry took a deep breath and held it in his lungs for as long as he could stand it, then released it. "She's not coming back," he told her.

Dana stopped stroking her unicorn to look up at him. Her mouth was opened slightly and her eyes glossed over with soon to be shed tears. "Why?" she asked.

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. It wasn't fair to be telling her this. She was too young to understand. Harry remembered how long it took for him to grasp the idea of death, but it took Sirius's death for him to really understand it.

"She's not coming back because she's dead," Harry said. "Have you ever heard of that before?" Harry asked her, knowing that she wouldn't.

Dana shook her head. Harry ran his hand through her soft hair and continued.

"Well," he said quietly, "when someone dies..." He paused. "When someone dies it means that they're not here anymore. It means we can't see them."

Dana's eyes took on more shine but she didn't cry yet. "Why can't I see mummy?" she asked and Harry heard her small voice quaver.

"Because she died," Harry said, but Dana still didn't understand. "Death---it's like being asleep forever. It's going to sleep but never waking up."

"But I can see you when you're sleeping, why can't I see mummy?" she said hopefully.

Harry regretted the analogy. "When I'm asleep I'm still alive. My heart beats and... well---here," he said, taking her hand and putting it to her chest. "You feel that?"

"Yes," she said with the nod of her head.

"When it beats like that it means you're alive. But mum's heart doesn't beat at all anymore. People who're dead no longer have that. You have to have a beating heart to live."

This only brought more questions. "Why did it stop?" she asked.

Harry wanted to get back to the topic of discussion, not biology. "Maybe I should---Dana, everyone who lives, everyone who's heart beats, will die. Death is part of life. One day my heart will stop, permanently, and I'll die too. I won't be here and you won't be able to see me, like you can't see mum now. That's just the way it is, Dana. Everyone dies."

Now a tear rolled down Dana's soft pink cheek and another followed it. "You're going on a trip too?" she asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not now," he said urgently. "Not soon. I'm going to be with you until you're a grown up, maybe even longer. I only meant that everyone dies. Everyone's heart stops at some time. People just die," Harry said, looking to her to see if she understood.

Dana screwed up her face like she was concentrating. The next question she asked Harry didn't know how to answer. He thought he had an idea, but he wasn't sure.

"If mummy's not here, den where is she?" she asked.

Leucosia said that the real Audrey was in Ithaca, that her soul inhabited the environment. But Harry assumed that, without Leucosia, Ithaca was no more. Audrey Wyatt's soul must have gone somewhere.

"When good people die they go on. They go to someplace wonderful, where they'll be happy forever, where they're surrounded by people who love them," he said, watching her face carefully. "Your mum went to a place where we can't see her, where we can't hear her, but where she's happy."

Dana wept silently, her tears rolled down without the thunder of sobs. She looked straight into Harry's eyes, searching for the answers she thought he had. Mums and Dads seemed to know everything, so she was expecting him to know about this, about death.

"Can she see us?" Dana asked.

"Yes," Harry said, nodding. "She's watching you all the time and I'm sure she's proud of you," he said and was startled and surprised when his vision blurred. "She's always watching you from that Place, Dana," he said. "In a way she's always with you. She's---she's the wind in your face," he whispered, then wiped his eyes before he could cry.

Children understand more than we think they do. They have a way of simplifying what we find complex, a way of seeing what we refuse to believe, a way of brightening darkness that obscures our "superior" and mature minds with shadows of hopelessness.

This child took her father's hand in her tiny ones and made a complicated face by shaping her lips in a weird fashion. "If we all go to dis place," she began in a whisper, bending Harry's fingers, "den dat means we'll see mummy again," she said. She looked up at him with bright shiny eyes and tried smiling. "Right? We'll see mummy again?"

Harry's lips trembled and his eyes flooded with tears. Though she was only four she knew. She knew without having seen. She believed without proof, without argument, without feeling that place beyond that Harry had only been allowed to glimpse. Somehow she knew it was there and it wasn't just because Harry had told her.

Harry nodded now, and he didn't bother to wipe his face to rid himself of the hot tears. "Yes," he said with a sigh. "We will see her again. We'll see them all again."

Dana smiled and reached up with her hand and pulled Harry's hair so he would bend his neck. Then she sat up stretched her neck and planted her lips on his cheek for a soft kiss. Then she whispered, "Don't go to dat place for a long time, okay Daddy?"

Harry struggled but managed a teary smile for her. He nodded and held her in his arms, bringing her cheek to his warm chest. He kissed the top of her head and told her, "I'll stay with you as long as I can."

He could feel her smile. If only she could really know how much he loved her. Perhaps one day she would. Maybe she'd learn that she was the source of his power, the reason he lived, his inspiration to smile and become a better man. Maybe she'd understand in the years to come. But even if she didn't, Harry knew. He knew she was everything to him. Dana was the light in the darkness, the flame in the snow, the peace in chaos.

They were right, all of them. This was a reason to live.

o-o-o-o-o

"Coat?" Harry asked.

"Check," Dana said.

"Mittens?"

"Check," Dana giggled.

"Lunch pail?"

"Check."

"Helmet?" Harry asked as he pushed a helmet on Dana's head and adjusted the chin strap for her, then clicked it together.

"Check," she said with two mitten thumbs up.

"And scarf," he said, covering her face and neck with the pink and purple scarf.

With a muffled voice Dana said, "Check."

"Good," Harry said, wrapping a scarf around his own neck and putting on a helmet for himself. He'd never worn a helmet previously, but Dana pointed out that if she had to wear one, then he should wear one too.

Harry went out the very same day and bought the best helmet money could buy.

Dana's preschool was only a few kilometers from their home, but Dana liked the motorbike. Over the weekend she and Harry repainted the child's seat so it matched the Harley. It was now a shiny black with only one baby elephant on it. But this elephant wore leather diapers and had a magic wand in its trunk rather than a baby rattle. This was Dana's suggestion.

"Ready?" Harry asked her as he mounted the motorbike and revved the loud, throaty engine.

"Ready!" Dana yelled cheerfully.

"Okay," Harry said and he drove, slowly, out of his parking space and up the underground parking lot and onto the busy street of London. Harry eased his way out of the parking garage and checked left and right. After several red double-decker busses passed, which Dana cheered for, Harry was able to drive across the left lane and into the right to make his way to Dana's school.

Harry was worried that, because she was starting later than all the other children, Dana would be left behind and wouldn't be able to catch up with the curriculum.

He was wrong.

Pre-school, as it turned out, really wasn't school. Harry held Dana's hand as he led her to the room where at least twenty wild four year olds were running around and playing like monkeys in a zoo.

"Daddy, look!" Dana exclaimed, pulling him further into the room and pointing at the colored blocks, all the dolls, toy trucks, stuffed animals, and big balls that rolled all around as other four year olds kicked and laughed. All the children were laughing and screaming with delight as they played and rolled on the carpeted floor.

Harry was more nervous than Dana, who was now trying to wriggle free from Harry's grip and go play with three other girls who were in a huge play house with plastic flowers for a garden.

"Wait, wait, wait," Harry said, grabbing her slippery hand with both of his. "Let's meet your teacher first," Harry said as he looked around at all the adults...

Harry hadn't noticed when they first came in, but the room was filled with women---mothers. What was stranger was the fact that all of them had their curious eyes locked on Harry. Feeling daunted but determined, Harry walked Dana through the crowd of children and mothers and searched for the teacher, who actually found them.

"Mr. Potter?" an older black woman asked. She was tall, wore a casual green dress, had her brown hair pulled back in a bun, and wore a pleasant smile as she extended her hand. "I'm Mrs. Wagner, we talked on the phone."

"Oh, right," Harry said as he shook her hand. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm Dana," Dana said, reaching out her hand for Mrs. Wagner.

Mrs. Wagner beamed and kneeled down to be level with Dana. "Why hello there, Dana."

"Hi," Dana said, shaking her hand enthusiastically. "My dad's a wizard!" Dana declared proudly. "He chases all duh bad monsters out of my closet at night."

Harry blushed but Mrs. Wagner didn't find anything Dana said to be unusual. "Is that so?" Mrs. Wagner asked.

"Yes," Dana said and continued. "He's says I'm a wizard too and dat I can chase duh monsters away wiff my magical powewrs!" Then she whispered, "But it's a secwret. Youw're not supposed tah tell."

Mrs. Wagner looked up at Harry and winked then nodded to Dana. "Okay, it's our secret." Mrs. Wagner stood to talk to Harry but at that moment Dana turned around and said, "I like her, Daddy. She's nice."

Harry laughed as he looked to Mrs. Wagner.

"Why don't you go play with the other children, Dana?" Mrs. Wagner suggested, and Dana was keen on the idea. She pulled against Harry's hand to do just that.

"Wait," Harry said, keeping her back, then bent down to his knee. "I'll be back to pick you up this afternoon, okay?" he asked.

Dana nodded but was much more interested in playing with the girls in the playhouse.

"Give me a kiss," Harry said. Dana kissed him swiftly on the cheek and started pulling again, working hard to wiggle out of Harry's grip. "Dana, just calm down a second."

She gave him a big grin, then gave him her cheek for him to kiss.

"I love you," Harry told her.

"Love you too," she said. Harry let go of her and she ran to the playhouse without looking back at him.

"She'll be glad to see you when you come back," Mrs. Wagner assured him. "Children are thrilled when they see other children their age. Don't be upset by her greater interest in them instead of you."

Harry turned to her and smiled. "Yeah I know," he said with a sigh. Dana had just introduced herself to a couple of girls and was now playing house.

"You said her mother's dead?" Mrs. Wagner asked.

"Yeah," Harry answered.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

Harry gave her a benign smile. "It's all right. We're doing okay."

Mrs. Wagner smiled at him, then looked around at the other parents in the room. "Well, be careful Mr. Potter, there are a few single mothers in here who have their eyes on you."

"Yeah I noticed," he said as his cheeks flushed. "I'll be wary of them, thanks." Harry checked behind him and saw a few women suddenly look away from him. "I have to get going, so I'll see you this afternoon," Harry said, extending his hand again. "It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you and the little wizard Dana. She seems like a great girl," she replied.

"She is." Harry tried to catch Dana's attention as he left the room, but she was too busy playing with dolls in the playhouse with her two new friends, so Harry left. He watched the building as he walked away, hoping it was safe. When no one was looking, Harry drew out his new wand and placed a protection charm on the building where Dana played. Just to be safe.

Then he drove back to his flat where he would prepare for his first day of school. Over the weekend he'd planned out the next few weeks of his classes, with the help of Dumbledore of course. He had a briefcase, his notes, quills, and his queasy stomach. The books would be provided.

Harry's first class was at nine, but he would be there early to prepare his office the best he could. Traveling by floo powder was the easiest way to get there, since he could only Apparate to Hogsmeade and then walk through the cold to get to the castle. The Floo was a much warmer option.

Harry examined himself in the mirror one more time before leaving. He always thought he looked silly in the traditional attire of wizards his age and he wasn't going to feel stupid standing in front of children. He wore what he wanted: regular trousers, a white long-sleeve button up shirt and his leather trench coat, which he hadn't adorned for months. He didn't know why but that coat made him feel powerful, not that he needed the coat to be powerful, mind you.

Lastly Harry slipped on his Auror ring, which he'd earned even if he wasn't an official Auror at the moment. Taking deep cleansing breaths, Harry grabbed his briefcase, a handful of floo powder, and stepped inside his fireplace.

"Hogwarts," he declared.

In a whirl of fire and bright blinding colors, Harry arrived at his first home.

He stumbled out of the fireplace coughing and found himself in the teacher's lounge room. The room was nearly empty save for one, a man Harry's age, who wore a surprised smile.

"Harry?" Neville Longbottom said as he walked from the far side of the room to make sure he was seeing correctly.

"Neville," Harry said. Neville looked nothing like he did in school. His round face, though still a distinct oval shape, was thinner, more chiseled. His brown eyes possessed a wisdom instead of an insecurity. As he walked Harry noticed that Neville stepped with confidence and didn't knock any thing over such as a chair or even a table. He was no longer chubby but well trimmed, not so unlike Harry.

"So the rumor is true," Neville said with a deep smile. "Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Yeah," Harry said with a half smile. "Only temporarily and to help Dumbledore." Harry dusted himself of the few ashes that had collected to his coat on the trip over. "So how's Herbology going?"

"Great," Neville answered. "You want some coffee or tea or something?" he asked.

Harry looked up at Neville again and shook his head. "I don't need it, thanks."

"Afraid you'll puke it up?" Neville asked with a devious grin as he took a sip of his tea.

"Something like that, yeah," Harry answered truthfully. "Are they really that bad?"

Neville shrugged. "Some are horrible, some are wonderful, and most are in between. I'm sure you know which house to be careful of. Gryffindors are great, naturally, Ravenclaw is the brightest, and Hufflepuff, well, they work hard. But enough about that, how are you?" he asked.

Harry started toward the door, expecting Neville to accompany him to his classroom and office.

"Well," Harry started, "I'm all right, considering my situation. I just dropped off my daughter at her first day of preschool, and she's not even missing me."

Neville sniggered. "You should bring her by some time so I can meet her."

"Sure," Harry said. He had to admit it to himself, it was nice having Neville here. He and Neville had an some eerie similarities that made Harry comfortable with him. Though Harry got the short end of the stick most of the time, Neville could still, on some level, relate to Harry. They were in the same boat, paddling up the same river, Neville just had a slightly easier time at it than Harry.

"You know," Neville said as they turned down a different corridor, "I'm sorry I didn't contact you over the past year. I feel horrible about it."

"Why? I didn't write you at all. I was too busy falling in love with evil."

Neville looked at Harry for a clue to either laugh or frown.

Harry's face was plain.

"Yeah, it's not really a joke, which is the saddest part about it. But it's not your fault. I was busy, you were busy, we moved on with our lives. So," Harry said as he saw his classroom up ahead and his stomach churned with nervousness, "what about you? I mean, everyone knows what's happening to me, what about you? What's new?"

Neville cleared his throat. "A lot really. I've written a book."

Harry's eyebrows jumped up. "Really?"

Neville laughed. "It's nothing exciting. It's about Herbology. It's a text book. I went on sabbatical last year to do the research for it, actually. I spent three months in Kenya studying different species and then spent a lot of time in Brazil. You look surprised," he commented.

"I never figured you for the literary type," Harry admitted. "Will you be using this book in your lessons?"

"N.E.W.T. level, yes," he said with a twinge of red on his cheeks.

Harry grinned. "Oh, N.E.W.T. level! That's amazing. When does this book hit the stores?"

"Hermione says it should be ready in a few months," he replied. He kept walking toward the classroom but Harry stopped for a moment before walking again. "Problem?" Neville asked.

Harry shook his head. "No. I forgot Hermione was in that business."

"I'm lucky she is. She grabbed it from the reject pile," Neville said as he walked into Harry's classroom. "Well," he said, looking around, "here it is. It's nicer than the greenhouses."

A wave of memories flooded Harry's mind as he looked around the large, open, and brightly lit room. His ears were filled with laughter, screams of terror, and strangely enough, the voice of Dolores Umbridge. Harry frowned.

Harry walked up the spiraled steps to his new office, which was nearly empty except for an old desk in the center.

"You've got to admit it's a little exciting," Neville said from the doorway. Harry smiled to himself, his back to Neville. "I just hope you don't have a dark wizard hiding in your head, and be careful in the forest, I don't want you to be stampeded by raging Centaurs."

Harry turned around and laughed. "No, I'm sure something worse will happen to me."

"I'm looking forward to more positive thinking, Harry," Neville said.

"I'm always thinking positively," Harry mumbled as he walked around the desk, one finger sliding along the edge. "I think I'm going to try to settle in before the monsters take their seats."

"A wise idea," Neville said and nodded to Harry. "We'll catch up over lunch. You get to sit at the grown-up table, you know." Neville grinned when Harry snapped his head up. "It's a little unnerving at first, but it's amazing what you can see from up there. Watching the students is extremely entertaining, let me tell you."

"Something to look forward to," Harry said then sat down in his chair behind his desk. "I'll see you at lunch then," Harry said with a nervous smile.

"You'll do fine. After dragons, Death Eaters, and Voldemort, teenagers are easy," Neville said, then waved goodbye and left without another word.

Harry pulled his briefcase to the desk and opened it up. It was ironic, what Neville had just said. Harry brought the figurine of the Hungarian Horntail and placed it on the corner of his desk. It stood and looked around, then back to Harry, who smiled.

o-o-o-o-o

At nine o'clock they entered. Harry peered through a crack in his office door and watched them pour into his classroom, talking animatedly. They all appeared confident, cocky, and unconcerned about the real world and the dangers it held. Harry watched until the last student came through the door and sat down.

Because Dumbledore had to balance being Headmaster and professor, he'd combined two houses into one class to save time, which made the class much larger. There had to be forty students stuffed in the room, all talking, some yelling, many laughing.

Harry was never that small or obnoxious.

When Harry could no longer hide in his office without being suspicious, he opened the door wide, put on his firm, mess-with-me-and-I'll-beat-you-to-a-pulp face, and descended the stairs, wand in his right hand, a folder containing his notes in the left.

Silence fell. The only sound heard was Harry's foot fall on the stone steps.

When Harry reached the bottom of the stairs he looked at his students. They all stared at him, wide-eyed, some mouths open, some mouths shut. A few students clenched their desks or chairs, perhaps out of fear. Harry was glad he'd had a cigarette a few moments ago, otherwise he'd been inundated with their voices and visions. Now that he had control he could sense their awe and apprehension.

Harry stood behind a podium and opened his folder to call roll. Gryffindor and Hufflepuff in this class. Quite a few names. He'd only call last names, it would save time.

"Adams?" he began.

Adams was a small girl who sat in the back. Her hair was blonde and in braids, her face was thin, her eyes were wide but not in awe.

"Here," she said, raising her hand and blushing furiously. She already had her book open to the correct page and had a quill ready. This would be the Hermione of the group.

Harry looked down to his roll sheet and marked Adams, Samantha present and moved on.

"Aaron?" he called.

"Here!" Aaron, Devon hollered from the middle of the class. Devon was a heavy boy with a deep and loud voice, mousy brown hair, and black eyes.

"I'm right here you don't have to yell. I'm not deaf," Harry said with a smirk, hoping to break the tension. No one laughed but everyone looked around at one another suspiciously. Harry sighed and continued roll.

Once Harry had finished he made a mental note that he had a fan club. There was a giggly group of girls in the front, all with curly hair, in bows, who seemed to hang on to every word Harry said and then giggled amongst themselves. In the next class he had with them, he'd separate them, for his sanity.

"Books away," Harry said as he pushed the podium out of the way to clear for a space. There was a short bout of commotion as everyone made as much noise as possible to put their books in their bags. When the last students, his fan club, had bagged their books, Harry told all the students to stand up and back away from their desks.

This, apparently, was reason enough for all of them to talk amongst themselves. Harry rolled his eyes but watched as they, slowly, did as he asked.

"Come closer to the front, and please don't dawdle. Make time," Harry said. "That means hurry."

The students scurried to the front, no one dared get too close to Harry, and fell silent again. With one swift wave of his wand, saying nothing, all the desks and chairs glided swiftly to the sides of the room, stacking on top of one another to conserve space.

"That's more like it. Now, how many of you know the basic defensive spell?" Harry asked.

A few students looked around at each other, none of them making eye contact with Harry, then finally Samantha Adams of Gryffindor, rose her hand tentatively.

Harry pointed to her.

"Uh," she said quietly, blushing, "it's Expelliarmus, I think. Maybe it's not. I think it is. Is-is it?" she asked.

Harry smiled and nodded then awarded Gryffindor twenty points. No, he wasn't biased at all. Then he told the class that the charm is a life saving defensive spell that they should all know well.

"Split into pairs, there's an even number of you so everyone should have a partner. You don't have to talk about the Quidditch match to do this," Harry said as he heard one boy discussing the coming match as he went searching for a partner. "Just find a partner. It's very simple."

Harry expected the students to obey him like the D.A. had done in his fifth year. But they didn't. These were twelve year olds who had little motivation to protect themselves against the dark forces. Harry had only been motivated because a prophecy-fulfilling maniac was determined to kill him and an entire school thought he was setting loose a Muggle-killing basilisk. He tried reminding himself that he had been different than these students, when they took five minutes to find partners.

Finally, after Harry encouraged them to move quickly, everyone had a partner and he demonstrated the spell. Then he told them to practice.

And, like in the D.A. meetings, there was chaos. Harry laughed as a few people were knocked down, only a handful of wands were tossed in the air, and half of the students pronounced the spell incorrectly.

Maybe this job wouldn't be so bad after all.

o-o-o-o-o

After the second year class of Gryffindors and Hufflepuff, sixth years rolled in. They were much more obnoxious than the twelve year olds, and Harry was surprised. He assumed the sixth years would be better behaved, but they were more confrontational, harder to impress and frighten, and rude. Of course this class had Slytherin and Ravenclaw. The Slytherins had probably been told by their head of house who was teaching Defense against the Dark Arts. No doubt he'd given them motivation to give Harry a hard time.

But he dealt with them well enough. He demonstrated the Patronus charm and had his stag attack a smart mouthed Slytherin. Needless to say, the young man was more polite after that.

Even though Slytherins were present, Harry still had an enjoyable time teaching them. He assigned them reading and asked for a summary of the reading to be handed in next class, then dismissed them.

Harry watched the last of them go then gathered his notes, went into his office, shut the door behind him, and slid to the floor in a heap.

Reaching his hand toward his desk, a pack of specialty cigarettes flew into his hand. He pulled one out, put it between his lips, lit it with the snap of his finger, and took a long drag. He'd have to find a better solution to his problem, but for now this would have to do.

Harry blew smoke rings from his mouth and watched them dissipate into the air of his office. There was something calming about smoking. It did more than relax his brain, ease the pain, and make it easier to concentrate. It was therapeutic. It calmed his nerves, slowed things down to a tolerable level. It was peaceful.

There was a loud knock on Harry's office door.

His heart sank. He had a feeling he knew who it was.

Harry sat up, cocked his head from side to side, and opened the door.

"Potter," said Snape in all his oily glory. Snape was one of those people who never seemed to change. His hair was still greasy, his nose was still hooked and long, his skin still sallow, teeth still gray, and surprise, his lip was curled in disdain.

Harry was tempted to say, "Snivelus," but since he didn't coin the term, he didn't feel secure saying it.

"Snape," Harry replied, blowing a smoke ring in his face.

Snape's lip curled even more and he shut his eyes while the smoke passed. "Smoking is not permitted in this castle. You'll find that rule-bending won't be as easy now that you're no longer needed."

Harry raised one eyebrow and smirked. "Uh huh," he said, then took another drag from his cigarette. "So why are you here?" he asked, blowing more smoke in Snape's face. "Wait, let me clarify. Why are you standing there talking to me? No one knows why you're here on earth and I couldn't possibly ask you to come up with a good reason. There's not enough time in the world for you to ponder your purpose."

"I came to tell you that every Monday afternoon there's a staff meeting and all... professors," he said acidly looking Harry up and down, "are expected to attend."

"I see. How kind of you to tell me. Is that all?"

"No," Snape said.

"Why am I not surprised."

"Seeing as how your new to... teaching, I thought I'd give you some needed advice."

"Isn't that sweet of you," Harry said with a perfectly straight face.

"If I hear that you favor Gryffindors---"

"Because everyone knows you're fair and unbiased and never favor Slytherins," Harry interrupted.

"---I will ensure that you're stay here will be most unpleasant."

"Most unpleasant? Is that the best you can do? What are you going to do, Snape? Plaster my chair with superglue? Or are you going to insult me because you were picked on by dear old dad?"

Snape face was hard to read. As Harry stared at him he noticed that Snape did look a little older, but not much. Snape ignored the last question and instead decided to prove his superiority with, "I have been teaching here since before---"

"No you haven't," Harry interrupted. He yawned. "I was born before you were teaching. And so what if you've been teaching here longer, you haven't gotten the real job you wanted. The one I have now," Harry said with a smirk. "Maybe when I leave Dumbledore will let you have it. Wouldn't that be nice? You could finally accomplish something and die semi-pleased. It's eating you alive, isn't it, me having this job?"

Snape's lip curled into a smile. "You need it more than me."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked, half laughing.

"I'm not trying to keep a daughter from being taken from me."

"Yeah, neither am I. She's mine and no one's trying to take her from me. You should stay current on all the latest in your gossip column. You know, the one about your horoscope that tells you how many centuries it'll take you to get a good shag."

"I'm not going to participate in this puerile display of your immaturity."

"Puerile? How long have you been waiting to use that word?"

"The staff meeting, Potter, is this afternoon at four. I trust you'll be able to find it seeing as how you can find most anything, unless of course you're married to it."

"Ho ho," Harry said. "You've really wounded me," Harry said, thumping his hand to his chest. "I'm not sure that I'll be able to teach again. I might need to have a good cry."

"I heard you were only staying here temporarily. Tell me, how long do you plan to stay?" Snape asked.

"No idea," Harry answered.

"I would think it would be difficult," Snape said, smiling again, "to get a position at the Ministry now that Weasley will be competing for it. I daresay that Weasley senior would prefer giving his son the position rather than to you."

Harry frowned before he could stop himself.

"Oh," Snape said in mock surprise. "Dear, dear, did he not tell you? Apparently my... gossip column did you say, got one thing right? Harry Potter: friendless. The terrific and inseparable trio is now minus the hero. What a pity. Weasley taking your job, Granger leaving you behind. What, no juvenile remark?" Snape asked, now grinning at Harry's plain face. "I'll see you at four."

Snape whipped around in a whirl of black robes and descended the stairs. Harry shut his door and walked back to his desk where he sat in his chair. Maybe Snape was just playing puerile games with his head. Ron can't be an Auror. He doesn't have what it takes. Harry had told Hermione nearly a year ago that he thought Ron would never be able to do it. He wasn't sure of himself. He wasn't good enough. Was he?

He checked his watch, pushed away from his desk, went to the Staff Lounge, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and transported himself to the Ministry of Magic.

He was greeted with shocked and outlandish stares, but he ignored them, or at least pretended to ignore them. Once, on his way down to Auror Headquarters, he saw Columbus Blair. But he reminded himself about his age and the fact that he was a father who wanted to keep custody of his girl and passed Blair by. Blair conveniently covered his face with a file as Harry passed, so Harry knew Blair finally felt like the idiot he always was.

When Harry marched into Auror Headquarters, he was met with many noises of shock, some shrieks, a few sparse cheers, and applause. Harry smiled quickly and continued to where he used to work and found Ron, sitting in his old desk, looking just as surprised as the rest of the people in this room to see Harry here.

"Harry," Ron said, standing up, knocking coffee all over himself but not really noticing.

"Hey," Harry said then pushed Ron back into the chair. Harry sat on the desk and looked down into Ron's face like he was interrogating him. "So," he began.

"So...?" Ron asked.

"I heard this news about you today from someone I couldn't hate more if I tried with all my strength. So is it true? Are you going to Auror Training?" Harry asked.

A smile crept onto Ron's lips. "You had to hear it from Snape first?" he asked with a hint of laughter.

Harry tried not to smile but was having a hard time. "Yeah, you prat."

Now Ron was grinning. "Well it's true all right. Got accepted a while back."

Harry could've kicked him. "And you didn't tell me because...?" he asked.

"You had a lot going on! I wasn't just going to burst in and say, 'Yeah, so I got accepted to Auror training, bummer about Audrey being evil. See you later!'"

"Why not? I could've used the good news, but instead I have to hear it from Snape, who, if possible, is uglier than ever. And I didn't know?"

"Well I couldn't think of a good time to work it into a conversation, with you yelling at me about how horrible your life is."

Harry's grin faded. So did Ron's.

"I'm sorry I said that," Harry said, and he was. "I was angry and---well there's really no excuse for it. I'm sorry."

Ron looked down at his desk and nodded to himself. "That's all right, Harry."

They didn't look at each other or say anything for about a minute. Harry checked his watch. Lunch would be over in ten minutes and he still hadn't prepped for the next class: fourth years. "Well," Harry said, breaking the silence between them.

"I'm glad we cleared that up."

"Yeah."

"And I really am sorry about... well you know."

"Evil Audrey?" Harry asked.

Ron smirked. "Yeah. How are you dealing with that?"

Harry shrugged. "I tell myself every day, every hour, that she was evil. Evil. The more I say it the crazier it sounds. Lame even. I married someone evil. It's like a soap opera or something."

Ron frowned. "What's a soap---"

"Never mind. Anyway..." he said, followed by more silence.

"But you have Dana," Ron said, hoping to inject some cheeriness into Harry. "She's crazy about you, or so I hear."

Harry smiled as he thought of her. His Dana, his little girl. "I do have Dana. She's my everything," he mumbled, still grinning as he saw her face in his mind. "She started pre-school today and couldn't get away from me fast enough. It's understandable. There were kids her age to play with. She'll be glad to see me in a few hours, I hope."

Ron cleared his throat and leaned back a little, as if putting distance between him Harry. "So, does this mean that you're no longer angry with Hermione? She's been wanting to talk to you for a while but I keep telling her it's too soon."

Harry checked his watch again. "That's a bit complicated."

"Why?" Ron asked.

"Because she's... She's seen things. Seen things I didn't want to be seen. It was a choice that was only mine to make and she meddled in it."

"Yeah," Ron said delicately, pushing his chair still further back.

"Ron, I'm not going to hit you." Harry said. "You don't have to back away from me."

"I'm not," Ron said, then continued before Harry could argue. "The thing is that you're happy with Dana, right? Harry, Hermione was worried sick about you, and not for the first time. She risked her life to save you. She did save you, not for the first time. And now you have a life with your daughter that you like. Shouldn't you get over this and make amends with her?"

Harry sighed. He had to go back to Hogwarts now. "It's not that simple."

"Yes it is," Ron said. "That's exactly what it is. She risked her life to save you. You have a good life with Dana now, thanks to her. She didn't let you kill yourself. Talk to her."

Harry stood. "Maybe in a few weeks."

Ron sighed exasperatedly and changed the subject.

"She's dating a new guy now, you know," Ron said.

"Yeah, that bastard Jacob Verit who couldn't win my case. He told me."

Ron stood too. "I think she really likes him. I'm not sure how I feel about him, though. He's an attorney after all. Dodgy people, attorneys."

Harry smiled. "I've gotta go. Class in five minutes. Maybe we could do lunch or something."

"Three Broomsticks, tomorrow?" Ron said.

Harry put his hands in his pockets. "Okay," he said. "Sounds good. But I have to get going now."

"How's teaching, anyway?" Ron asked with a wry grin.

"Oh you know," Harry said casually as he backed out of his old cubicle. "It's teaching. Not so bad, I suppose."

Ron laughed. "If you enjoyed it you wouldn't admit it, would you?"

"Probably not," Harry confessed. "So, I'll see you tomorrow, Ron."

"Okay. And Harry?"

"Hmmm?"

"I'm glad you decided to stay here in this world. It would be a boring place without you."

Harry held his breath for a moment as he absorbed the sincerity in Ron's eyes. Maybe he hadn't lost his friends after all. And if, after everything Harry had said and done to them, they still wanted Harry around, well, he had the best friends a guy could ask for.

"Thanks, Ron. And congratulations. You've worked hard for Auror for years. You've earned it."

Ron smiled bashfully and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Thanks."

Harry nodded, smiled, and stared at Ron. It was an awkward moment that wasn't passing.

"So should we shake hands or something?" Ron whispered.

"Yeah," Harry said, and he put his hand out toward Ron, which Ron took and shook vigorously.

Harry continued shaking it then looked into Ron's eyes again. Ron gave him a weird sort of look.

"We could hug briefly," Ron suggested.

"Very briefly. We're men after all. No crying," Harry said, pointing his finger at Ron.

"God no," Ron said, then he pulled Harry in for a very short embrace, then they released each other and stepped back.

There was applause from everyone in Headquarters. Harry shook his head and stared at the ground but smiled. Ron stepped closer to him and said under his breath so only Harry could hear, "And insert finger down throat."

Harry laughed.

o-o-o-o-o

Maybe teaching wasn't so bad. It took a while for Harry to admit to it, but he did like teaching just a little. He told no one else, just himself. He knew Ron suspected it by the time Christmas rolled around. Harry had hinted, accidentally, that he would miss some of the students over the two week break. Ron didn't shout "HA!" or poke fun, but he did keep quiet and let Harry tell his stories. Harry was grateful.

This would be the first Christmas with just him and Dana, no Audrey. Last Christmas he was in the hospital being fixed with a new heart, after Lucius Malfoy destroyed his real heart on Leucosia's orders. He forced himself to remember that. Audrey was Leucosia, Leucosia was Audrey. They were the same.

He was getting better about it.

Harry had agreed that Michael and Lydia should join them for Christmas, but he was nervous about it. Though they were very kind people, Harry didn't know them very well. He anticipated plenty of awkward moments.

On the night of December 20^th, Harry stretched out on his sofa and lay a catalog on his knees. Dana had told him what she wanted from Santa this year and Harry was determined to get her everything she wanted, and more. But he wasn't going to spoil her. Well, he'd try not to spoil her. Getting gifts wasn't spoiled, though. Getting away with everything and controlling your parents (Dudley) was spoiled.

She'd asked for the normal four year old girl things: dolls, dresses, new ballet slippers, a tutu, and a puppy. Harry had told her no for the puppy because she wasn't old enough. Maybe in a few years he'd get her a dog, but not now. She was disappointed and grumpy at first, but she soon made up for it with a long list of dolls.

Harry was about to circle an item to order when someone knocked on his door. Harry looked up; it glowed blue. He checked his watch, seeing that it was 8:17, then set the catalog down and went for the door.

When he grabbed the handle he knew who was on the other side. He couldn't run from this and he didn't want to. He opened the door.

"Harry," Hermione said with a pleasant tone and a gentle smile.

"Hello," he replied as he studied her.

Hermione was looking quite well. She wore black slacks that flattered her figure, a purple cashmere sweater, and a leather blazer. Her hair was straight for the moment and fell around her face like a cascading waterfall. Her cheeks were pink from the nipping cold, her eyes over-bright, her smile tender.

Harry still held the door open but didn't ask her in.

"Harry, we have to talk," Hermione said, the graceful moment swept away by her usual business-like manner. She pushed open the door and marched inside.

Harry heard her pace behind him in his flat, so he closed the door and muttered under his breath, " Please come in." When he turned around to see her, she began her lecture.

"It's been over a month, Harry and you haven't contacted me once! Not once. Oh you'll talk to Ron and school friends, but you won't talk to me, not once! I'm tired of it. Harry I saved your life for Christ's sake. The least you could do is keep in touch with me, but you can't even do that. You can't swallow your pride, can you?"

Harry was ready to answer but---

"Don't interrupt me, Harry. I understand being angry with me for killing Audrey, but she was your enemy, she killed innocent people, remember? And she was winning you over. I couldn't let that happen so I had to kill her, and I'm real sorry. You certainly weren't going to do it so don't even try to give me the, 'she was my responsibility' rubbish. You and I both know you weren't going to deal with her, so I had to. And I didn't enjoy doing it, not even a little. I killed her because, as Audrey she could be killed, and I had the opportunity.

"Then I had to save you because you had to wallow in self-pity! And I can understand that. It's traumatic. But continuing this stupid charade for weeks because you don't want to admit that I'm right is ridiculous!"

"Shut up, would you!" Harry whispered. "Dana's trying to sleep. Have a little consideration for other people!"

Hermione crossed her arms and scowled at him. "Sorry," she snapped.

"Now," Harry said quietly, "did you come here to yell at me, or did you actually want to have a civilized conversation?"

Hermione's mouth dropped. "Of course I came here for a civilized conversation!"

"Then why did you start by yelling at me?"

"That's beside the point."

"Is it?" Harry asked.

"Yes! Now could we talk?"

"Sure. Talk."

"Don't take that apathetic attitude with me."

"Don't talk to me like you're my mother," Harry sighed. He walked to his sofa and sat down and was irritated when Hermione pulled up a seat opposite him.

"Well," Hermione said once she'd seated herself. "What do you have to say?"

"Hey, you're the one who came here. Why don't you start?"
"I already have. Don't you have something to say in response?" she asked.

Harry stared at her for a while, organizing his thoughts so he wouldn't sound as crazy as she just had. Hermione wasn't usually this distressed, so Harry knew she was exceptionally angry and frustrated.

"I don't have much to say, no. You've already covered the main points of interest," Harry replied.

"So that's it then?" Hermione asked in a voice very unlike her own.

"Basically, yeah."

Hermione nodded slowly as she stared into his eyes. "You have absolutely nothing to say to me?" she asked, her voice cracking. "Absolutely nothing?"

Harry took a deep breath and looked at the palms of his hands. He didn't know what to say to her, and even if he did know what to say he wasn't sure how to say it.

He looked up again and saw, to his disappointment, moisture in Hermione's eyes. She wasn't going to let herself cry, not one tiny tear. Her lips trembled slightly as she fought to suppress her emotions.

"I don't know what to say," Harry told her. "And even if I did I'm not sure how I'd say it. I don't know what you expected in coming here, so maybe you should explain that to me."

Hermione swallowed and bit her lip. "I wanted it to be over," she said, sounding calm. "This fight, I mean, not our friendship. I hate fighting with you, Harry, and I know you don't like it either. We're usually good at resolving our differences. Maybe not recently," she added, "but most of the time. I just want to put it behind us where it belongs."

Harry sighed and shut his eyes. "You killed her. You meddled where you shouldn't have. You've seen things that I didn't want to share. It's not easy to put it behind me. It's just not that simple. I loved Audrey and you killed her. I wanted out of this life and you forced me back into it." Harry looked up at her, waiting for her response.

Hermione's eyes were no longer moist. She sat a little straighter and smirked as she nodded. "Harry," she said loftily, "I'm going to tell you something that you desperately need to hear. It's rude, it's insensitive, but it needs to be said and I'm going to say it," she told him. She took a deep breath then firmly stated, "Get over it!"

Harry blinked. "What?"

"You heard me. Get over it! We're all sorry about Audrey. We all know how much you loved her. It was obvious how much you cared for her and I'm sorry she was evil and trapped you and made you love her. I'm really sorry! But she was evil, she was cruel, she was a murderer, she did all of this to you, not me, not Ron, not anyone else. Your precious Audrey did this to you! She made you fall in love with her because you have power and she wanted a piece of it. She got inside your head and learned all your little secrets and used them for her own agenda. She knew you so well she could predict your next move. She let you to bury yourself in hole that you wouldn't be able to dig yourself out of. She trapped you then tortured you. Harry, open your eyes and move on with your life!"

Harry meant to stand up but his knees were too weak to hold his body weight. He fell back to the sofa.

"Harry, how long is it going to take for you to acknowledge that your precious Audrey wasn't thinking about you and what you needed but serving her own self-interests? Sure she loved you... on a perverted level. But she didn't want what was best for you, which is obvious because of what she did to you! She didn't want you to be happy; she wanted you on her side so she wouldn't have to fight you. So she could have your power. Can't you see that?"

"You don't know that," Harry said weakly.

Hermione groaned. "Yes I do! You can't see it because you don't want to see it. You were happy with her, you loved her, she gave you a daughter. You just don't want to taint those good memories with her real nature." She paced around her chair, her arms crossed, as she watched him. "I don't believe for one second that you haven't admitted the truth to yourself about her. You know what she was. I think you just want someone to blame for your pain so you've picked me."

"That's not it at all," Harry said.

"No?" she said. "Please tell me why I'm wrong."

Now Harry found the strength to stand. He didn't like that she was towering over him, making herself feel more powerful. "I'm furious with you for different reasons!"

"Oh, like saving your life so you could raise your little girl?" Hermione said. "Stupid me. How could I be so selfish? Ron says you're very happy with Dana, that you're planning a holiday with her and her relations. Wow, I'm sure horrible to have made all of that possible."

"You don't understand anything," Harry growled.

"I don't understand anything? Well then, perhaps you could explain what it is that I've missed because I think I'm right on target!"

Harry advanced on her but she didn't move. "You don't know what its like," he snarled, his eyes boring holes into hers.

"Don't know what what's like? You're going to need to be a little more specific, Harry," Hermione replied. He was so close to her she could feel his rising body heat and heard his heart thundering in his chest.

"Isn't it obvious? You're so smart, why don't you figure it out."

"Because I want you to explain it to me," she said, suddenly speaking calmly.

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Hermione persisted. "Harry, you need to get this out."

Harry rolled his eyes then laughed. "Oh please. Don't pull the psychobabble rubbish on me! I don't need to get anything 'out' I just want you to get out of my face and leave me the hell alone!"

"And I will when you tell me why you're still so angry. I'll leave forever and never come back if you want. I'll never speak to you again, never write, never attempt to contact you again if that's what you want, but you must tell me what's bothering you so much."

"I don't have to tell you anything," Harry said.

"Yes, actually, you do. I'm part of this, you made me a part of it when you put me in the hospital. You made me a part of this ordeal when you slammed your fist into my face--- when you screamed at me, attacked me, and could've killed me because you were enraged with Leucosia. You have to tell me what's eating at you, Harry, I have to know. You owe me that for what you put me through, intentionally or not."

Harry stared down into her determined face and saw that coveted unshed tear beading up in a corner of her eye. She wiped it away before it could stream down her face and continued to stare at him.

"I didn't want you to be part of this and I never meant to hurt you," he said.

Hermione chuffed a laugh. "Well, you did, and not just once. Now tell me what I can't possibly understand. Tell me, Harry. Why are you still so angry?"

Harry searched her eyes and willed himself to see her thoughts, hear her ideas and her secrets. But Hermione was focused on Harry and the answer she desperately needed to hear. Not once did she break eye contact with him, but she seemed to open her eyes, allowing him to see inside.

"How do you know there's anything?" he asked.

Hermione breathed steadily. "Because I've been inside of you."

Harry grinded his teeth. "You think seeing what you saw gives you some kind of new insight? You know nothing, you get that? Nothing."

"That scares you, doesn't it? I've seen those demons you've kept locked away for so long and never told anyone about. You can't run from them. And I do have a special insight now, whether you like it or not." She stood a little taller and puffed up her chest. "Now stop avoiding my question. What is it? What's gnawing at you? I know there's something Harry, some idea or thought that's killing you and keeping you from moving on with life."

"I have moved on," Harry said. "Look around, Hermione, that's all you have to do to see you're wrong. You just can't be wrong, can you? It's killing you. I've got a new life with a new career. You're wrong."

"No I'm not," Hermione replied with a devilish smirk. "You keep secrets so well, Harry. Until weeks ago I had no idea what a chest of secrets you kept locked away inside you. You may keep them locked up but I know they hurt you, I know they haunt you. Tell me. Please tell me what's eating at you. Harry, please," she pleaded. "Please just tell me and I'll go away forever," she whispered.

"There's nothing," Harry said, attempting to sound sharp but he actually sounded weak. His legs were wobbling a little.

"Tell me what it is," she whispered, reaching out and grabbing his sweater in her hands. "Harry, tell me."

Harry shut his eyes and shook his head. "There's nothing. There's nothing."

Hermione pulled herself closer, touched his arm lightly, and pleaded again, "Tell me."

"There's nothing, Hermione."

"Stop lying. Tell me. Tell, me, Harry," she whispered.

Harry shook his head. "No," he said.

She bit her lip and held her breath and waited. She could feel him trembling ever so slightly under her fingertips. She looked up and saw his lower lip quiver, she saw him screw his eyes shut tighter than they were before, she saw him shake his head.

Hermione exhaled. "It's all right. You can tell me."

He shook his head, side to side, repeatedly. "No. There's nothing."

"Tell me, Harry. Just tell me and I'll leave if you would like. Oh please just tell me, please, please, please tell me! Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me," she whispered.

For a long moment neither of them said anything. Hermione was gearing up to try again but Harry spoke softly.

"She was evil," he mumbled. "She was evil."

Hermione looked up at him and tried to understand. This wasn't new information, but Harry was telling her, he was letting her in. It was important to him for her to know.

"Yes she was," Hermione said. "But she's gone now. She can't hurt you anymore."

Harry opened his bloodshot eyes and looked down upon her. "No," Harry said, shaking his head again. "But she was the only one."

"The only one? I don't understand."

Harry's eyes glossed over as he stared at a spot behind Hermione. "She was the only one. Everything was okay when I was with her. Whatever I did it was okay. It was okay," he whispered. "It didn't change anything. But she was wrong, she was evil, she wasn't right."

Hermione tried to put it together.

"I was so happy with her but she was completely wrong."

"Wrong? You mean she was false?"

Harry shook his head again. "No, I knew she was wrong. I had a feeling all along and I ignored it because I wanted... I wanted what I'd been searching for and I didn't care that she was wrong."

"Wrong. You mean she wasn't what she led you to believe?"
"I suppose," Harry said, but Hermione knew by the way he said it that that's not what he meant. "But they were all wrong. Every one of them. Something was so... so wrong in each of them. They were all corrupt in some new way."

"Who?" Hermione asked. "Who, Harry?"

"Maybe it's not them. Maybe I'm the one who's wrong," he breathed.

And suddenly the pieces slid into place.

Hermione smiled because she knew it wasn't true, not at all. "Harry, that's not it at all."

"Audrey was evil."

Hermione nearly laughed from relief. To her it seemed ridiculous, but to Harry it was serious and heart-wrenching. There was something corrupt in each of them, but it didn't mean Harry was wrong. "Harry, why are you so afraid that you'll turn?" she asked with seriousness.

He looked away from his spot on the wall and back down to her.

"Harry, you have no idea how good you are. You really don't know do you?" she asked, grinning but weeping all at once. "You're filled with it. I'm sorry you can't see it like I do. You're filled with love. You'll never become like them, you'll never turn away from who you are. You were just searching so desperately that Audrey preyed on you because she knew. She knew how much love you had to give and she knew how desperately you wanted to give it. Even after all the pain those other women, Voldemort, and the Dursleys caused, she knew you could never stop loving people. You can never stop, Harry. You're too good."

Harry frowned, but not from anger. Never stop loving people, he heard Sirius say, over and over again. He'd almost forgotten his godfather's advice given nearly a year ago. It didn't make sense at the time it was given, it didn't make sense months ago, but it was clearer now. A knot around his chest loosened and he let out a sigh.

Hermione grinned and laughed a little. "You'll never be like Voldemort, Harry," she said locking his eyes in hers. It was important that he know, that he really understood. "You'll never be like Malfoy, or the Lestranges, or the Death Eater who killed Mrs. Weasley, and you'll never be like Leucosia. You won't be because you don't want to be like them. Remember Harry, you're the hero, not the villain. Audrey tricked you, but you turned her down. Don't you know what that means? Harry you refused you're greatest temptation. You said she made you happy but you refused her."

"But I was tempted. I wanted to be with her," he said.

"Right. You wanted to be with her, you didn't want to be like her," she said softly. "Yet you still turned her down because you knew it was wrong to be like her. Harry you couldn't be evil if you tried. And it's not just wicked women who are attracted to you, and you know that. You picked the wrong ones for all the wrong reasons. That's a normal thing. You'll grow out of that one."

Harry frowned at her and was displeased when he saw her smiling up at him. "I didn't say that was a problem," Harry mumbled.

"No, but you were thinking it," she replied.

"You don't know that."

Hermione bit her lip to conceal her smile, then suddenly frowned pensively. "How long have you been---have you always been so worried about it? Somehow becoming evil?" she asked.

Harry swallowed. "I can't get away from it."

"You can't be. I know you can't. You're fundamentally good. You're right. Harry, after everything you've been through you're still a good person."

Harry chuffed. "No I'm not."

Hermione shook her head as she looked up at him. "Why do you say that?" she asked, pained.

Harry pulled away from her, turned his head and shrugged. "I dunno."

"Don't you?" she asked. "Harry, no one's perfect."

"I know that," Harry snapped.

"Then why do you insist that something's wrong with you?"

Harry paced around his flat, as if searching for something. Hermione knew he simply didn't want to answer her.

"You," Harry started, but paused. He shook his head, then threw his shoulders back and spoke again. "This is bullshit," he said. "Everything you just said is complete bullshit. You didn't trust me. You weren't confident I would turn her down the second time so you had to kill her. And I understand that so don't get all defensive again. But I know you're lying to me. You don't trust me. You thought you were losing me to her. You thought if I stayed with Audrey... well, you didn't know what I was capable of." He smiled sinisterly at her and shrugged. "So you see the dilemma, right? You can't have me both ways, Hermione. Either I'm too good that it would be impossible for me to turn, or I can't be trusted to do the right thing. Hell, God only knows what I would've done with that woman, right?" he asked.

Hermione's bottom lip quivered and she crossed her arms. "That's not fair," she whispered, her eyes glistening.

"What?" Harry asked, frowning. "That I can hear what you think? That's not fair? Or it's not fair that I know the truth about you?"

Hermione didn't answer.

"Ah. That's what I thought." He strolled casually into his kitchen and started making coffee. "But I want you to know I appreciate your...lack of confidence and then confidence in me. I'm capable of dark magic... then I'm not! Capable...not. Evil...good! Can't seem to make up your mind, can you?"

Hermione cleared her throat as she wiped at her eyes. "I thought..." she held her breath. "I thought you would go with her not because you were a dark wizard, Harry," she said softly.

Harry laughed a little. "No?"

Hermione shook her head and walked toward him. "No. Sometimes when people want something so badly...they'll do anything to have it. I didn't understand," she whispered, closing the distance between them. "I didn't see what was so special about her. She was ordinary. She was beautiful, yes, but so ordinary. Nothing about her was special. But I'm not you."

"Really going for the obvious, eh?" Harry said.

"Shut up," Hermione said with a slight frown. "Just shut up. Reading minds doesn't mean you know everything." She bit her lip as she glared at him. Harry was no longer smirking. "Audrey sailed in at just the right time, with the perfect offer, with all the trimmings a man like you could ask for. A woman who was perfectly willing to do what you asked. There were no risks. She was older than you, had more experience, had felt the pain of death and abandonment, was willing to have you, willing to put up with you, trusted you, predicted what you would think and feel, gave you a home, introduced you to a child, lived in secret for you, bent over backwards to accommodate you and make you happy... Harry, what wasn't to love? If someone was willing to do that for me... I'd want to be with them too," she said. She sighed and shook her head. "Harry that's not love. I mean," she said strongly, "I think you really loved her, but she wasn't very real. She was too perfect to be real."

Harry stared.

"She was too good to be true. You knew that." Hermione pulled out a stool and sat on it as she watched Harry watch her. "I've never been you. I don't know what it's like and frankly I don't want to know. I can't fathom the pain you've lived through," she said, her lip wobbling. "I'll never understand what it's like. If the only option for peace is death..." she trailed off.

Harry remained silent, his drink untouched. He wondered if he should say anything or if he should leave the pounding silence alone.

"I can't judge you," she continued. "All I knew is that you'd gone for years, you're whole life, without knowing what it was like. You'd had tastes of it, but the moment you found someone who cared for you they died. I can't imagine how that must feel, so I can see why you would ignore that feeling that something was wrong with Audrey's perfection. To hell with it. She seemed so safe, didn't she? What could possibly go wrong with her? A housewife and a mother... what could happen?" she said, her eyes moist with tears. "So while I don't really know, I can see how choosing between her and this," she said, waving her hands around the flat, "might not be such a hard choice."

Now Harry held his breath.

"Ron and I had no idea how alone you really were," she said. "I'm sorry I didn't check in on you and I'm sure he is too. You should've never had to be alone when you had us. But I thought you were fine. You never told me anything. You lied to me and said everything was fine. How was I to know?"

"I'm not blaming you," Harry finally said.

"Not now, but you did earlier. You came back--you lived instead of dying--for Ron and me. And then we went on with our lives. You said that, remember? You didn't want us to feel sorry for you, isn't that right? You hate that. Everyone always feels so sorry for little orphan Harry and you got tired of it. But it's not my fault, or Ron's, that you didn't say anything."

Harry moistened his lips as he watched her. "I don't blame you," he said. "I just wish I hadn't been so naïve to think everything would be the same after Hogwarts. I didn't like the idea of things being different."

Hermione nodded. "So, what you're saying is, you still regret that choice? You still wish you would've gone on?" she asked with a sad smile.

Harry looked away from her to blink his eyes. "I dunno," he said as he shrugged. "Right now things are okay. I have Dana, I have a job, Ron and I are on good terms again, no one's trying to kill me or Dana... But right now is the best it's been in seven years. All those times I thought I was happy I was with her. And she..." Harry picked up his glass and drank. "Is this how it'll be forever? Whenever I think I'm really happy, I'm not? Don't misunderstand me," he said as he looked at her again. "I love Dana so much." His eyes were moistening but he tried to cover it. He sniffed and spoke slowly. "But one day she's going to leave me... One day I won't be that important to her and she'll see me less and less. She'll go off to Hogwarts, then she'll move out, get married... And I'll be alone again," he said heavily. "Oh sure, I'll be welcome anytime, but it's not the same. When I had Audrey I knew I had someone. I had a companion in life, someone I could grow old with," he whispered hoarsely, his eyes glossing with tears.

"See," he began, "unlike you I do think something's wrong with me. I can't help how I am and how I turned out. It doesn't take a genius to realize I'm... I'm fucked up. I know I am. I don't need Marc Simon or that Narayan woman or any other academic telling me something's wrong. I can see it for myself. So you're right. Audrey was too wonderful to be turned down. She accepted me no questions asked. She wasn't cross with me when I was horrible to her. I could treat her so bad but she still kept me. Whenever I was around her I wanted to be a better man. I wanted to give her what she deserved from me and I usually failed. But she was always there.

"And it wasn't real," he mouthed, his voice failing him. "She was the only one who would take all of me and she wasn't real. She was... she was just... wrong."

Hermione stared at him, unaware that she too was crying.

"That's--that's not true," she mumbled. She cleared her throat and wiped her face. "Harry that's not true at all," she cried, wiping constantly as the tears cascaded down her cheeks. "Did you really never know? Did you never see how I looked at you?"

Harry glanced down at his drink. "I knew."

Hermione attempted a laugh but it came out like a sob. "Then why?"

"I told you. Hermione," he said clearly and almost with urgency, "I am seriously fucked up. When you took a little trip through my mind you only saw part of it. I am irrevocably screwed up and there is nothing, nothing I can do about it. You don't know," he said, crying again. He bit his bottom lip and dabbed at his eyes again. "You can't be with me and be happy. Audrey... well she only put up with me because she wanted my power. But you..." he said. "You don't know me. You don't know what I've done or what I can do. I mean," he diverted his eyes, "we could be together for a short while. Maybe a few years, even. But you would leave me, even Audrey left me for a while. I was too much for her, even, to deal with. I can't hurt you anymore and I can't feel that way again. As hard as it is to live alone, it's better to choose that life than be left alone. And I can't lose you as a friend. If we got married I would hurt you over and over again. You think you love me but... Hermione you'd hate me. You'd leave me forever and I... I wouldn't be able to deal." He pushed his glass aside and sighed.

"I think you're exaggerating this," Hermione said. "I don't think you're 'irrevocably screwed up' at all. Sure, being locked up in a cupboard for ten years has left a mark, but to say you're doomed is a bit much. Harry you're the way you are because of your past. I know I only saw splices of it, but I'm sure," she said, leaning forward, "that's why you think you're fu-screwed up. But you're not. You're a human being and none of us are perfect. Plenty of children are abused, many worse than you, but that doesn't mean they're hopeless cases."

Harry frowned. "You can actually sit there and think I'm normal?" he asked.

"You're nowhere near normal, but what is normal?" Hermione asked. "But we'll save that clichéd conversation for another day. I don't know why you hate yourself so much, but you have a lot to be proud of and you're ignoring those qualities. Harry you simply need to get all of this out of you. You can't bury your past and expect it to stay there. You were not the one who was wrong; it was those people Dumbledore put you with. Just because they weren't capable of loving you doesn't mean others aren't. You've ignored Sirius, Molly, Remus, Ron's siblings, Arthur, me, Dumbledore, and Dana from this equation. Yeah you have some faults, and perhaps you think they're uglier than how I see them, but it doesn't make you a bad person."

"I slay four men with a knife that Audrey handed to me. I was covered in their blood. I ripped at them like an animal when I could've done it by magic. I chose to kill them with my hands, to hear their screams of pain. What kind of justification do you give that?" he asked, pounding his fist on the counter.

Hermione shut her eyes and sighed. "Harry, I don't know," she breathed. "They attacked you and you fought back. You'd had your heart ripped out, literally and figuratively, by Leucosia. The Black Order be damned. I still don't think you're evil." Hermione waited for him to look into her eyes before smiling.

He chewed his bottom lip, watching her smile sadly at him.

"You're still my best friend," she said. "You came and saved me, Harry. You and Ron came and saved me. I think that's a pretty redeeming quality, even if you don't."

Harry picked at a spot on the counter and without looking at her said, "I can't help it."

"I know you can't."

He glanced up at her and saw her smiling still and he couldn't stop himself but smiling back. "So that's it then, right?"

Hermione sighed. "Yeah that was pretty heavy."

Harry nodded and smirked. "Yeah."

"I'm going to use the loo, all right?" Hermione asked. "I'm a little blotchy." She pulled a few tissues from her pocket and wiped her face.

"Use mine. Dana's bathroom's a complete pig sty."

Hermione took her leave and the moment she'd walked around the corner Harry withdrew a pack of cigarettes from a drawer and lit up. He had only a few windows of opportunity to smoke. He never did it around Dana and he knew Hermione hated it. But he felt a huge migraine coming and he was going to stop it. He took a nice long drag and sighed. That's better. He figured he had about five minutes before Hermione came back.

He jumped up and sat on his counter as he thought of everything Hermione had said. Maybe she was right. He hoped she was. Living would be much easier if she were right.

He started on his second cigarette when Hermione returned, looking still pensive. Harry took a long drag when she looked at him.

"You know smoking is so bad for you."

Harry nodded. "Sing me a new tune."

"All right," she said, looking very serious. "Did you know that excessive tobacco use may cause erectile dysfunction?"

Harry spit out the cigarette and it flew halfway across the kitchen.

Hermione held in her laugh for only a few seconds but not much longer than that. First it started out as a nervous giggle but when Harry turned around to give her a frightened and intimidating look, the giggles transformed into a raucous laughter.

"That's a joke right?" Harry asked. "You just did that to break the tension, yes?" he asked, coughing now.

Hermione, tears in her eyes, still laughing, shook her head.

"It's not a joke?" he asked, his eyes bulging.

Hermione's laughter, if possible, grew louder. She clutched her stomach and bent over from her mirth.

"I don't see what's so funny," Harry said no humor in his voice. "That's not funny at all. No one told me that."

She stood up straight, her face red but happy, and tried to calm down. "I can see what's really important to you," she giggled.

"Yeah, well... I'm going to have to find something else. Stop laughing," he said, but that only made her burst into the giggles again. "That's a serious problem you're laughing about. You're a woman and can't possibly understand how serious that can be."

Hermione cleared her throat and tried looking proper, keeping a straight face.

"I mean what if... what if Jakey-poo had that problem? Would you be laughing then?" Harry asked.

Hermione snorted but turned it into a cough. She held her hand on her chest as she finished her fake cough. "Jake doesn't smoke. He's very healthy."

"How sweet," Harry replied. "He sounds perfect for you. Sure he's a horrible lawyer who can't defend an innocent man and keep him from going to prison for three months, but at least he's healthy."

"That," Hermione said, shaking her finger at Harry, "wasn't his fault. You dug your own hole then lay in it, Harry. You didn't tell Jake the whole story. I'm going to side with him this time."

"You're still dating him," Harry said sourly. "Hell, you started seeing that loser like a week after you came back from Ithaca. How--I mean did he just stroll up to you're house and ask you out? When did he happen?"

Hermione cleared her throat. "Well, he found me attractive when we were practicing my testimony for your trial. He just didn't want to say anything because I was your friend, it was a bad time, and I was under a lot of stress. So when he heard I was alive and had returned safe and sound, he came to see me. He's a very bright man, he's kind, he has a sense of humor, which I can't say for Luke Broadmoor, and he's handsome."

"He looks fourteen," Harry replied.

"No he doesn't."

"Yeah he does. Ron and I agree."

"Oh, if you and Ron agree then that settles it," she said. "I think he's handsome. I don't need you or Ron to think he's good looking."

"He reminds me of that guy from those movies," Harry said thoughtfully.

Hermione scowled. "Who and what movies?"
"You know," Harry said with a confused face. "Those really long movies. They're newer movies, with all the different guys all doing different things at the same time. And Jake, he looks like the guy with the really long blonde Veela hair."

Hermione shook her head and shrugged.

"You've seen them. Yeah, Jake looks just like that guy with the Veela hair, with the bow and arrows. That guy in those movies always states the obvious in fancy way, like Leucosia or Narayan. You know those movies, right?"

"Well, not the way you're describing them."

"Yeah you do. There are wizards, and there's this big spider, and that little creepy guy who looks like an over-grown house elf, a bunch of tiny people, and those freaky men dressed in black riding on screaming horses."

"OH!" Hermione said, pointing at him. "Lord of the Rings!"

Harry snapped his fingers together. "Yeah, that's it. Jake looks like that guy with the hair."

"Legolas? Huh. You know I think you're right. But Jake's hair is brown and much shorter than that."

"He looks twelve," Harry told her.

Hermione sighed. "Jake's thirty-one, not twelve. It just means he's going to age very well."

"Whatever, he still looks twelve. And he's not even very smart. He lost my case, Hermione, and I was innocent. He lost and now you're dating him."

"How many times must we go over this? Harry you lost because you didn't tell Jake all the information he needed. Telepathy, remember?"

"Yeah, telepathy..." he trailed off. He sighed and stared at his counter again. "Whose idea was it to link you to my mind with Starling?" Harry asked. He'd been wondering this for a while but never thought to ask Ron.

"Narayan. We were all sitting in here, and by 'we' I mean Ron, Doctor Simon, Clarice, and me, trying to figure out a way to wake you up. Then I fell asleep, had that strange dream with you in it, then like a badly written play, Narayan storms in here with her usual dramatic entrance and has all the answers."

Harry was silent for a moment then he said, "That prick Simon was in my home? I hate that man."

"I know. He wasn't much help anyway. So she had the idea and she stayed with us while I was searching for you in your own head, then she left."

"That's it? She just left?" Harry asked.

"Yeah. Has she come back to see you?" Hermione asked him with a questioning look.

"No. I hope she doesn't."

"She's not that bad," Hermione said. "She's just not so good with people and she's a little long winded."

"Very long winded. She loves to hear herself talk. She sounds like a villain from a really bad sci-fi movie. It's really kind of sad."

Hermione giggled.

"Don't start that again. I'm afraid you'll wake Dana," Harry said, though he was laughing because she was. "How did she know you'd had that dream anyway?"

Hermione shrugged. "I think she had surveillance of the flat. You know how proud she is of being a spy."

Harry was about to respond when a tiny voice came from the other side of the room.

"Daddy?" Dana squeaked, rubbing her eyes as she shuffled into the living room.

Harry walked out of the kitchen to see her.

"What is it?" he asked her in a very gentle voice. "Did you have another bad dream?"

Dana shuffled over to him and raised her arms so he could pick her up, which she did. She rest her head against his chest and shut her eyes. "Wead me a stowry," she groaned, slightly grumpily. She nuzzled her head into his chest and Harry wrapped her in his strong arms.

Hermione's cheeks flushed pink momentarily but Harry didn't notice. She smiled and got to her feet. It was late and Harry had to take care of Dana.

Harry gave her a look of inquiry when she stood.

"I should get going so you can take care of the littlest Potter."

Dana opened her eyes and turned her head to see whose voice she was hearing. Then she beamed. "Hewrminee!" she squealed, slipped out of Harry's arms, and scuttled over to Hermione.

Hermione kneeled down so Dana could give her a hug. Harry watched as his daughter embraced Hermione and kissed her and Hermione returned the gesture. Dana giggled then ran back to Harry.

"Why don't you pick out a short story and I'll be there in a minute?" Harry said to her. Dana agreed and scurried back to her room. Harry watched her slip a little on the slick floor, but she didn't fall; she kept running.

Hermione was standing by the door with a friendly smile splashed on her face. He walked over to her.

"She have a favorite story?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, I have it memorized."

Hermione chuckled. "Happy reading to you."

"Thanks," he said with a smile. "I'll see you later, yes?"

"I'd like that. We'll do lunch," she said.

"All right," Harry said.

"Great. Good luck with your kids next year. They're always harder to deal with after Christmas. And you work with Snape now, don't you? We'll have to talk about that over lunch."

"I hate him," Harry said. "Any advice for dealing with the prick?"

"Other than watch your back? No, no advice. Neville says it's entertaining watching you and Snape have a row."

"Watch my back," Harry repeated. "That is good common advice. Thanks."

Hermione took a deep breath and sighed as she grinned. "You're welcome Harry. Try not to let Snape get to you."

"Fat chance," he mumbled.

Hermione ambled over to him then wound her arms around his waist and looked up into his eyes. "I love you, Harry Potter," she said.

Harry smiled a little. "You have to use my surname? Is there another Harry around here that I can't see?"
Hermione blushed then kissed his cheek.

"I love you too, Hermione Granger." He slid his fingers through her hair then kissed her forehead and left cheek. "Jake's a lucky man, even though he looks like a ten year old."

"And an elf, apparently."

"Yeah."

Hermione grinned. "I'll see you later. Maybe in a few days, have some kind of holiday get-together?"

"Sure."

Hermione unwound her arms from his waist then walked toward the door. Harry opened it and watched her leave.

"Oh," she said, looking surprised, "I almost forgot." She stuck her hand in her pocket and withdrew her closed fist. "I found this on your bedroom floor, but it was broken." Hermione opened her hand and Harry saw his glass cross in one piece laying in her palm. Harry had shattered it when it had been delivered to him from Vincula. Hermione had magically put it back together again.

Harry looked from the cross to her face. She wasn't smiling, nor was she frowning.

"You do have a family Harry. You got what you wanted," she said. Then she reached out for his hand, opened it, placed the cross within it, and closed his fingers around it. "Merry Christmas, Harry."

She smiled once more and with a pop she was gone.

Harry grasped the cross in his closed hand and shut the door.

She was gone. There wasn't a slight trace of her left in this flat except of her memory in Harry's mind. Her smell still lingered in the air occasionally. Sometimes he saw her in Dana's smile. Sometimes he felt as if she was watching him, but he knew she was gone. Audrey only existed in Harry's memory. Hermione was right. She could no longer bring him pain or happiness. She existed now only in Harry's memory.

He sighed. She was gone.

Harry stepped confidently to Dana's room. He thought perhaps she'd fallen asleep while waiting for Harry, but he was wrong. Dana was sitting cross-legged on her pink bed with a fairytale in her lap.

"I love you," Harry said to her.

"I love you too, Daddy. Wead dis!" she said, showing him the story.

Harry walked in the room and sat on the floor beside the bed. Dana lay her head down on her pillow and handed Harry the book. From her angle she could see the pictures.

Before Harry opened the story book he reflected on his recent past. It wasn't like the story in his hands and he knew it never would be a fairytale with a perfect ending. There would be trials and suffering still to come. Tranquility never lasted long and he didn't expect it to. Danger would rise again but it would also recede.

Harry rubbed his thumb on the cross in his right hand. In this room sat not one but two orphans who, in each other, had found a family. They were not alone in the world and never would be.

Harry didn't know what to expect from the future. He didn't know what the future would give to him or take away. He only knew that he was glad to have his precious girl with him, glad that he'd made amends with both Ron and Hermione, glad for Dana's health and happiness, glad even for Snape.

Well no, not really. If Snape keeled over and died tomorrow Harry wouldn't mind.

He laughed to himself at the thought. The human condition was a strange and funny thing. Each person was so dynamically different from another, but each shared common needs, common goals and strivings. Complexities of the mind are not so easily simplified. Survival was important, but it wasn't what Harry wanted from life. Harry would not fight for his own survival, but for Dana's, for Ron's, for Hermione's.

Leucosia was wrong. She was right about a variety of things, but she was fundamentally flawed. Humanity has its darkness but even the tiniest sliver of light defeats it.

Harry smiled ruefully as he thought of Hermione.

Dana rapped Harry's head. "Wead, Daddy!" she commanded.

With Hermione's laugh ringing pleasantly in his ears, with Dana beside him her hand on his head, Harry opened the fairytale and began.

"Once upon a time..."